The Road to Signal

As I look back on about two full weeks in Nicaragua, I've already seen some astonishing things. I understand why some call it "developing" and am beginning to seeing why some just call it "home."

My adventures this week have included a trip back to the school in Chimborazo I mentioned in an earlier post. While there, the need to use the phone arose. This is when I decided I had met the definition of developing country smack in the face. "No reception here. You have to go over there." said Miguel, my interpreter.  I walked about 50 paces and saw that "No Signal" still registered on my borrowed cell phone. "Sigue mis hijos," (follow my sons) directed one of the locals.

That's when it began.

I watched as the young men almost hurdled a barbed-wire fence, knowing that my attempt would be neither graceful nor quick, but took comfort in the fact that I'd had a tetanus shot recently enough to throw caution to the wind and follow. The two teens led me down a muddy pass--through water that had certainly just passed through the urinary tract of the bovines that greeted me as I entered their pasture. As the mystery mud oozed between my toes and over the ankle tops of my socks I tried not to think about its contents. At the bottom of the downside of the trail I realized what had to come next - its slicker, slimier upside. I climbed--grasping branches, thick grass and rocks in hopes that when I inevitably face-planted in the mud that perhaps I'd be spared the nastier of the diseases known to take harbor in cattle bladders.

Finally reaching the peak of the slippery slope, (and incredibly winded as you would expect an overweight, out-of-shape, asthmatic with bad knees to be) I paused expecting vistas of grandeur and cellular bliss.

But I was wrong.

Ahead of me: two acres of potatoes and my teenage guides already half-way across. Wondering what other obstacles lay between me and this mythical land of "Signal"--I wheezed my way across the crops in hopes that the boys would stay far enough in front of me not to see me drop to my knees just prior to certain death, or at least long enough for me to catch my breath. I watched as they continued to walk, and walk. And walk. They got smaller as they crossed a small fence and continued their trek. Finally, they stopped walking.

Half an acre behind them, (beans this time), I realized one of the boys was pointing up into the sky. As I got closer I realized he was holding his phone, searching for "Signal." Arriving in the small clearing where they were standing I began fiddling with the phone in an official-looking manner,(while actually just trying to allow time for my breath to catch up to me), I realized I still had no signal.

Had all of this been for nothing? Oh, spare me the injustice!

"What?" I thought to myself as the older of the two animatedly pointed at a rock, then finally stepped up on it and held his phone as if to say, "Like this you dumb gringo!" Following his example, I hopped up on the rock and held my phone high as if to say, "Signal, don't fail me now."

And it didn't. I was immediately connected with the city-folk in Jinotega and was left marveling at this scrap of a very modern world hidden on a rock, nestled in the high mountains of Nicaragua. I  had survived the road to "Signal." 

Week 1

Hello, all!

To say I have been busier than a one-armed paperhanger in a room full of rocking chairs would be an understatement. I have hit the ground running. This is a busy place and I am getting to know those with whom I am working and what it is they do. The people are amazing and I am blessed that God has sent me here.

I have been pleasantly surprised at the size of our apartment, especially the kitchen. We have a range (it doesn't heat) and a refrigerator (it doesn't cool) and some day soon we hope they will serve their designated purposes. 

My Spanish, although showing some improvement, remains "for entertainment purposes only." 

Yesterday I did what we Texans would call off-roading and mudding in an area of the state called Chimborazo. The locals call it "driving to Chimborazo." We are building a school there. School begins here Monday and it looks like we will miss the deadline. So goes construction. We have the roof to complete. We have had rain everyday since I have been here which is unusual as this is the dry season. I will send pictures as soon as missing elements of technology being shipped catch up to me and as soon as I figure out what in the world I am doing here! :-) 

I miss you, look forward to a brief visit in April and am hopeless at counting how blessed I am to have your support, whether it is through encouragement of kind words, financial and/or, most importantly, prayer.

God bless you all,

Jonathan

All my bags are packed

What a whirlwind these last days have been! Between Jonathan's 'farewell concert tour'--the medical mission conference in Dallas--and general 'taking care of last minute business'--there hasn't been a minute to do the laundry that needs to be packed in the suitcase. That was remedied tonight. I sat packing his bag trying to get the reality of this move to sink in. But it hasn't.

The last few weeks have been exciting, precious, exhausting, memorable, endless, too quick---you see where I'm going.

There have been many special and encouraging words spoken over us--the depth of many friendships acknowledged--prayers, praise, and generosity heaped upon us so heavily that (yes, I'm ashamed to say) we almost feel worn out from receiving it. There has been more than one evening lately where we fell in to bed saying, "No more talking! No more people, no more words, shhh...sleep."

I know we will need the memory of these words to sustain us in the months ahead. That this friendship feast will need to sustain us through the famine of separation, culture shock, and language frustrations to come. But at this moment, in the bloated aftermath of so much support--I think Jonathan is ready to find himself in a country where he has too little vocabulary to have an emotional conversation.
And now, that day is finally here.
Please keep praying for us.
Here we go---

God sells a cow

Wow.
When we first discussed moving to Nicaragua, Benny (Director of Mision Para Cristo) said, "If God wants it He will fund it." and another time, "God owns the cattle on a thousand hills, if He needs something done around this Earth, He can always sell a cow."

This particular view of funding spoke to us both, and we made our commitment to Nicaragua in just those terms, "God, if you want us to go do this--fund it--fill the volunteer roster--and we'll know."

Now, I imagine that you too have prayed for those "burning bush", "neon sign" types of directions from God--and you have probably had the frustration of what feels like an ambiguous response. Me too. Always.
I've so often heard people saying, "When it's right--you'll just know." Well, not me! I never "just know". I always have that little voice that sees an alternate viewpoint muddy-ing up the waters.

But today, when the phone call came that our minimum financial benchmark to actually make the move had been met--well--I just knew. When I thought of how much the work at Riverside has changed, how ready the new Christians there are to be the servers instead of the served--I knew. When I heard the planing, saw the ownership that the volunteers for some of the community outreach programs  were taking--I knew. When I realized how the random meandering of jobs and experience fit together so neatly into the duties at the Mision--I knew.

To all of you who were watching over God's cattle--thank you for facilitating the sale. Thank you for sending us the cash that will make our part in this work possible. Thank you for your gifts of time that let us leave secure that the 'baby Christians' we care so much about are protected and supported. But at this moment I am most thankful for your role in letting me hear God so clearly. Thank you for making my "neon sign" moment possible. It's so very clear to me that all of this is possible only by God's design. In a world where Satan tries to cloud our vision of God's glory with ambiguity and doubt--you've helped me see through that to the reality beyond.
Thank you!

Psalm 50

Upgrade

Today was officially 'Coach's' last Sunday at Riverside Bible Study. The Christians who meet there organized a lunch for the entire community after our worship time--to say it was very special sounds small. What a cherished clip in the video reel of memory this will always be.

As various families shared the impact 'Coach' had made in their lives I was most struck by what was not said. More powerful than the anecdotes shared was the fact that all these families were together, in one room, sharing a meal. And that we had nothing to do with it. It seems so short a time ago that this was a community full of suspicion of one another--of gossip and crime--and now it truly is a community. That a handful of women, who a year ago were not really allowed out of their homes were now going door to door assigning side dishes and making public speeches. That some of the same people who told us 18 months ago they didn't need or want any of our "Jesus talk" around here, are now Christian brothers and sisters.

I remember how it was at Riverside when this began. The amazement I felt when crowds of kids and even adults would pour out of doorways as they saw Jonathan's truck roll by. How the 1/8 mile drive to exit the property was always a 45 minute trip, because so many people would stop him. I remember our struggle to define what he did out there....(I wish I could  remember who first summed it up like this:) "He's kind of like the principal of the trailer park. When people don't know how to do something, or they have a problem with someone, they talk to 'Coach' and he settles it."

So true.

And these last months it has been so exciting to see him drive away without being stopped. Not that families don't smile and wave--but now the sense is of companions, equals, friends. It makes me so proud that so many of the 'jobs' he used to do are no longer necessary. A school liaison is no longer needed, as relationships have been built between parents and teachers. Emergency bill payment assistance is no longer due to an inability to decipher the bill paying process. Advocacy for fair treatment is not needed for clients who have found a voice to speak up for themselves. Cleaning and caring for the facility is not only a job community members do, but a job community members organize and assign. Tutors and students have relationships independent of 'Coach's' mentor-ship. Bible class teachers are studying and planning their lessons--and ones I call "baby Christians" are proclaiming their desire to be preachers of the word.

I love Jonathan--but could he accomplish all that? No way.

In that moment as people who were so recently strangers poured sodas for each other, and passed hot tortillias down the table--I was so deeply aware of God's transforming power in people's lives. I was so aware of how relationships open hearts to God's truth. How ripe this field is, and how prepared the workers are who will tend it.

A five year old girl--who has taught us much patience--taught me something else today.
She said, "Coach, I am going to miss you. Who is going to be our Coach?"
Jonathan said, "Well, Haci--I think you will be in charge. You will be somebody's coach."

My mom always says our job  in life is to replace ourselves. I used to think that meant replicate ourselves. But now I understand that it means to trade ourselves in on an upgrade. I know that is what is happening at Riverside.

Doña Gabby, the first to become a Christian from Riverside said it best as our worship time concluded: "We will miss you. When you come back there will be more of us here."
AMEN

Abundance

Today was our "estate sale". We opened all the doors, cupboards, closets and invited everyone we knew to come buy our stuff. Because the "rules" were different than a typical yard sale, I noticed I had to do lots of explaining--"Yes, go in every single room. Everything is for sale. EVERY-every thing. I will sell you the milk out of the fridge if you want it. Yes-if you can see it, then it is for sale."

I admit, I felt a little bit naked to have my junk drawers and hide-y holes made so public. But mostly I was overwhelmed by an awareness of our abundance. Yeah-yeah an abundance of objects. I can watch dozens of women walk out with boxes of kitchenware and the cupboards are still not bare. And as wordy as I am, there are not enough words to adequatly describe the abundance of school books. But mainly I was thinking of the abundant generosity of people in our lives.

Friends who came early on a Saturday morning to organize and arrange; family members who hauled things from the attic; colleagues who came to add their own items to the sale, and work to get them sold; strangers who chose to look around again for something else they could use--once they knew the purpose of this sale; Christian sisters who stayed until every item was boxed up and the last leaves swept out of the living room.

As overwhelming as the task of managing all the abundance of possessions has been--the awareness of the abundance of supporters surrounding us has been even more remarkable. Imagine: a 7 hour long parade of people through your house, every one of them there to help you. That is an abundance only available in God's family.

I can't help but recall some sorrowful times when I locked myself away, crying out to God, needing the strength of presence, accusing Him of abandoning me. "But I need Your arms around me, and here I am alone."
How easily I forgot that He has planned and provided comfort for us in His family--that the church is called "His body" for a reason. I was so gratefully aware of His strong arms lifting appliances I was too weak to lift, His mouth, negotiating deals I was too tired to make, His back carrying boxes of books...what abundance.

I Corinthians 1:3-5
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, ⁴ who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. ⁵ For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ.

The Right Stuff

This morning as we prepared for worship a child was starting to tear up as she explained her disappointment in receiving a used gift for Christmas. “I was  promised a new one and they gave it to my grandfather instead, and I got the used one” she lamented as she described the techno-gizmo. I told her she is bright enough to know what Christmas is really all about. I told her that we have to remember the real meaning of all this madness and that she was focused too much on “stuff.”

It occurred to me, as I tried to explain to her, that we are covered up with too much “stuff” and that the opportunity to move to Nicaragua meant a chance to get unburdened from all the “stuff.” I recognized that God had a reason to bless us with much of the “stuff” we have and that I think we have been pretty good stewards who honor Him and serve Him by using the “stuff” to glorify Him. My discussion with her led to  reminding her that the value of “stuff,”-- when given as a gift--should not be about the value of the item, but the love that is behind the gift. She admitted knowing that there was truth in what I was saying. She was even sharp enough to be a little embarrassed by her tears over “stuff.”

Oddly enough, during worship, the same nine-year old, who was now sitting next to me, watched as scenes of Christ on the cross scrolled by. There were pictures of the bloody wrists with the large spikes centered through them and the open slashes where the cat of nine tails cut the flesh of Christ prior to hauling the cross to Golgotha. Her comment? “He must have really loved us!” It was my turn to tear up as I thought about the gravity of this innocent, in-depth analysis.

As we prepare to make the big move-- the “stuff” that is most difficult to part with are the items that mean something because of the individual who gifted the “stuff.” Given in love, the “stuff” of some cumulative 83 years of collecting, plus the exponential of parents and grandparents who have passed on leaving us their “stuff,” seems like a steep mountain to overcome. I guess it is time to heed my own advice and focus on the love that lead to the gifting and not so much the dispersing of the “stuff.” God has given us the greatest gift of all, and now He is providing us with a new way to share the love. His “stuff” is better when shared. “Love is something when you give it away…” JLH