Before mission, I will admit it…I was scared. My Spanish was rusty, my confidence was weak, and I worried that I would be unable to help the people we would be serving. But in the weeks leading up to mission, I found that the more I trusted God, and the less I relied on myself, the stronger I became. He had called me. He would give me the words to say.
And He did. He provided the grace and love I needed to be courageous, bold, loving and joyful.
I’m on the right. The reason I look like I’d been up for 24 hours is because, well, I’d been up for 24 hours. 😀
When we arrived in Nicaragua on Saturday afternoon, we were exhausted. That morning, we had loaded up the buses from campus, and left for the airport at 1am. Our flight left at 6am, and I had the pleasure of realizing I had been up for a full 24 hours! I was excited by that fact, as seen in my face here on the right.
When we landed, the warmth was the first thing that struck me. Back in Ohio, it was still snowing on occasion. Nicaragua was humid, and the temperatures were in the 90’s.
But beyond the heat, I was struck by the life. There was extreme poverty, but life was also so open. As we drove to our home base at the Ciudad de Dios retreat center, we witnessed a slice of life. There was an incredible feeling of aliveness in the city.
On our way!
I wrote in my journal that night, “Poverty hangs out like a sagging stoop. Yet it seems like life is out in the open here. Children play soccer in the busy streets, while others beg, run barefoot and peek out the front door. Mama cooks, hangs the washing, and rests in the lawn chair outside the concrete walls and tin roofs she calls home. Papa finds shade under the trees of the median line, sells fruit, t-shirts and blow-up pools on the street corners or in shacks full of grime. The streets are alive with this cacophony of humanity, melodious in its expressions of rhythm. One neighbor is having a party with raucous pop music, clapping, drums, and loud singing.
Our team at Ciudad de Dios
Mamas and Papas set the food for dinner before their youngest children, and conversations float by. Yellow birds with red-tipped wings chirp in the mango trees while smaller grey birds with blue-tipped wings chatter at the intruders (us) below. Crickets and cicadas chime in, while cars and buses honk vigorously at stray dogs crossing the street, and skinny cows meandering the roadway. Taxis and mopeds speed by horse-drawn carts on major city thoroughfares. Right next to palaces sit dingy corners filled with shanty vendors.
Lawyers and dentists set up shop in grimy, gated, un-air-conditioned buildings next to casinos and run-down pharmacies, bars, and taquerias. Huge lit-up yellow trees representing the Tree of Life sit in every round-about. This is what these kids call home.”
Waiting for Mass to begin outside
Sitting outside, I listened to all of these melodies folding together as a song of humanity. And we were able to add to this song. During Mass, our songs and prayers melded and harmonized with their lives. We had stepped into their world, but we shared their humanity, the same human song of life.
Flood The World 