Walking in the Spirit

As I was walking into a grocery store in our town, Santa Rosa de Pocosol in Costa Rica, I noticed a beautiful lady and her little boy sitting on the corner entrance selling lollipops. As I walked through the store, I grabbed some fruit and nuts to share with them on my way out. Though I was afraid they would only want money, they received the snacks with smiles. I must have been in a rush because I didn’t ask their names. But the Lord wasn’t done with this little encounter.

Several weeks later, as I was walking down the street, I saw a beautiful woman’s face with her young boys, selling socks outside a shop. Since I had extra bread in my bag I offered some to her. She gratefully received it, and this time we started talking. It was only then that I realized I had met her before. It was almost like the disciples recognizing Jesus in the breaking of the bread.

Mileidy (pronounced “me-lady”) is one year older than me, 28, with two sons Yoelvis (10) and Cristian (3). She, her boyfriend, and her boys fled their home country of Venezuela to seek freedom in the US, landing in Costa Rica after a treacherous journey, I later learned. As we were standing there, they were delighted to learn that my mom was from Venezuela. We started talking about our favorite Venezuelan dishes. And then, jumping up and down with excitement, Yoelvis asked, “Can we invite her for dinner and make arepas?”

Mileidy and I were both shocked at the offer. But she immediately welcomed the idea. I was so humbled. Here they were, working to make ends meet, yet inviting me for one of my favorite Venezuelan dishes, her son ready to offer me a whole chicken! It was a gift from heaven.

She described where I could find her house and I ran home to share the invitation with my teammate, Madeleine. The next day I set out to find her, praying our plans would take place and for the Holy Spirit’s guidance.

Mileidy welcomed me into her humble home. We talked, laughed, and cried as she shared stories from her life for hours. Madeleine joined and we made a plan for our arepas dinner, inviting them to Mass beforehand. Since leaving Venezuela, receiving the sacraments became less frequent for Mileidy and her family, she lamented. When Yoelvis learned we were Catholic missionaries, he was eager to come to church with us. He loves his faith, so he joined us.

During Mass, I was able to describe the most beautiful mystery of our faith: Jesus’ presence in the Eucharist, coming so close we consume Him. He was mystified and in awe, asking how he could receive this Bread. His childlike faith edified my own.

After Mass, he immediately asked when he could join us again. We began inviting him to daily Mass and seeking a way for him to receive his First Communion. That evening we enjoyed the yummiest authentic arepas, we sang praises to the Lord, taught them to play my Venezuelan Cuatro, and prayed together.

In the weeks that followed, a beautiful friendship began, being touched by sacramental grace, and an unforgettable miracle.

Between picking up Yoelvis for Mass, I would encourage Mileidy about the grace waiting for her too in the sacraments. One day we were able to take both boys to Mass, a powerful and humbling experience of spiritual motherhood. At first, Little Cristian was not a fan of Mass or praying. After a series of tantrums, he eventually became enthralled with my rosary and gazed at pictures of Jesus in my missal. We left with a blessing from our priest and a blessed rosary for Yoelvis. We celebrated with pizza and ice cream at our favorite shop, which happened to be celebrating their anniversary with a festival and bouncy house.

As a mission trip with a group from the States approached, our availability became slimmer. Mileidy came down with a terrible fever. We brought food when we could. Between voice messages, I could perceive her condition was getting worse and medication was not helping.

The only thing I could offer her was Jesus Himself.

As we all sat in prayer one evening, I became convicted that the only thing I could offer her was Jesus Himself. I asked if a group of us would be able to go visit to lay hands and pray for healing. Sadly, there was no room in the schedule that evening. Accepting this, but hesitant to delay, I returned to prayer. The Holy Spirit led me straight to this passage:

“And immediately He left the synagogue and entered the house… now Simon’s mother-in-law lay sick with a fever, and immediately they told Him of her. And He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up, and the fever left her” (Mark 1:29-31).

I was so shocked, my jaw dropped. I knew Jesus was behind this. Providentially, Yoelvis joined us for Mass that evening, and for the cookie decorating party which followed. At the end of the night we would usually walk him home, but it happened to be pouring rain. We needed a ride. We hopped into the remaining van with just enough seats, and to our surprise, Father was sitting in the front seat.

When the Lord makes things crystal clear, you take a leap. As we pulled up to their home, I asked Father if he’d be willing to come in to offer Mileidy the anointing of the sick. “Let’s do it!” Everyone jumped out of the van, hopeful for the Lord’s healing.

Mileidy was in worse condition than I expected: pale, sweating, shivering, and wrapped merely with a blanket. It was day ten of her fever.

As we prayed alongside Father, Mileidy’s whole family bowed their heads and prayed fervently. As he read the prayers of anointing, tears welled up in my eyes. The words of spiritual cleansing and freedom over her were powerful. The presence of the Holy Spirit was palpable.

Gratitude overflowed as we hugged goodbyes. She and her family were so grateful for our short visit. “Jesus, you are so crazy,” I thought, “You make things work when they’re seemingly impossible.”

A few days later I reached out to Mileidy to check in. “The fever left me after you guys visited! I haven’t had a fever since!” she rejoiced. I wept. Jesus is so faithful.

“Blessed is she who believed that what had been spoken to her by the Lord would be fulfilled” (Luke 1:45).