The first sign makes perfect sense: No drinking on the premises. The second, a bit bolder: No drugs. The last, a favorite. One we can use every day: No fighting on the premises.

That about sums it up. With all those in tact, all would go along quite smoothly.

Downtown San Jose, Costa Rica is not one of the most dazzling cities around. It can take a lot of imagination to see the interesting and the beautiful. I often look up. That’s where the blue sky drops a great looking back drop to many of the struggling buildings in the concrete capital.

This church stood out as I crawled around traffic to find my way out of a long line of construction. One look up, and it saved me for a few more blocks.

In every town, in every land there is a man who waits. His turn is yet to come. With a trusty paper at his side, he shall be the next in line to get a trim. A little off the top if you please.

And it’s a pleasure to wait, I can tell. For he gets a few minutes to shake off the rain; elude the boss; put off that extra errand needed to be run before the day’s end. The small, corner barber shop - a treasure of every country small and wide.

Preparing my son to leave for school is an act in precision and cooperation. And generally, it goes surprisingly well. When the mini-bus toots its horn, we’re usually just a walk away from loading up. But with a five year old, there are exceptions.

When the bus arrived today, it was fifteen minutes early. I figured I could put Addison’s shoes and socks, clothes on and brush his teeth in two. Coco ran up and down the steps trying to help. When I approached the child with the aforementioned items, he was sitting in a pile of, well you know, unpleasant smelly poo. Smeary stuff too.

So that is exactly why I put the butterfly picture here. Butterflies really come out in August in the Central Valley of Costa Rica.  I’m amazed at how they find flowers among the muck and goo. When I put Addison on the bus, he was barefoot and screaming with delight at the wildness of the morning. I handed the assistant the shoes and socks and asked if she could help.

The door slammed shut and my butterflies flew off in their mini-bus, pretty clear of the muck but definitely full of color.

There is something about the fifth. Addison turned five, and I felt this breath release. Those first years of parenting are more than most bargain for, whatever the mix: Traditional family of mom and dad and kids; single parents; big family; one child; adopted; special needs…..we’ve all been given a gift to unwrap and make more than the best of.

Happy Birthday Addison, you’re such a big boy now.

A five minute film is now available for free viewing of The Coffee Dance. Seeds of Empowerment is a specially crafted film for the View Change Online film contest.

The film contest is posting powerful five-minute films that tell stories of progress in developing countries. What are people doing to help end poverty, disease, hunger, conflict, inequality, and illiteracy? Show us the progress being made towards achieving the United Nations Millennium Development Goals (MDGs).

In a few weeks voting will begin. For now, please take a look at Seeds of Empowerment and all the other films working out there to make the world a better place to live.

Music reaches millions through it’s song. When the singer is a miracle in itself, it makes the message more powerful than we can imagine. I sang this song to my children when we walked the floors during many sleepless nights; through tough moments; and in times of deep moments of humility where I realized I knew so little yet have been empowered to do so much. This song reconnects me to the understanding that I can never do it alone.

My songs didn’t sound anything like this, but I have a feeling, with heart these words can make us all stars.

We’re soaked. The rain has decided to take it’s job seriously this year in the Central Valley of Costa Rica. Our glimpses of sunny mornings have shortened and sometimes disappear all together. We’ve become intimate with our umbrellas, a stash waiting to be called at the doorstep.

There are a few moments in between. Those moments when we can escape the chilly rain and run free. The umbrella becomes a toy for a moment, a part of a song.

Then, the rain will start again, and the boy will look for his umbrella once again.

I followed this man with avocadoees on his head for a quite a while. I couldn’t help but notice that his sweat and his deep breaths to keep up his step added a sense of beauty that took me by surprise.

There are parts of San José, that if broken down ascetically, are what a critic could call unsightly or down right ugly. Yet in each snapshot of life, there is something beautiful to behold.His efforts could make the harshest of critics take note.

Plus, five avodaoes - and they were a pretty good size - for 1000 colones (about $2.00) was a very good price.

A child wandered in front of my car holding a yellow balloon. I could see his mother in the distance. He raced ahead of her to get to their car. I stayed parked and waited for the mother to arrive. The child had slipped behind the car, and I didn’t want to take the chance he’d pop up somewhere as I backed up.

Addison and I just finished a round of x rays. In Costa Rica, x ray “locations” can be found scattered throughout the city. With a prescription in hand, one will get the x rays and take them back to the doctor. What I thought would be one x ray (since I can’t read doctor’s writings in English or Spanish) turned out to be four. As Addison nears his fifth birthday, doctor drama is much less. He happily held his head here and there for the “photo.” We were told to come back in a few days as the doctor only comes in on Wednesday to read them. Addison and I walked around the back. He walked down the steps, commanding me to leave him alone so he could do it on his own.

The boy with the yellow balloon stayed hidden behind the car until his mother appeared. Once she was near the car, I shifted into reverse. The, she gave me this strange look. For a second I thought her son had dashed out behind me. Then, she looked in the back seat. Her face crumpled. Then, she smiled. I rolled down my window.

“I have one,” she said, pointing to Addison. That’s how the sentence translates literally; however, it’s nothing to take offence at. It just means: I have a son with Down Syndrome. In the next five minutes we bonded quickly. She told me about her son’s ear tubes; removing his glands; what school her son goes too; how he just doesn’t can’t swallow well; and his name was Santiago and he’d be five in a few months. I shared a few things about Addison. We both had to go.

I looked to see her other son with yellow balloon climb into the backseat. I shifted back into reveres. Coincidence? Are there any? I may never know why we shared those five minutes, but to meet as we did is loaded with more than I will ever know.