A picture is worth a 1000 raisins...

Well, we’ve been here a month now and I wish I could tell you about each and every moment of our days…but not only is that not feasible, it’s not possible. There aren’t words enough to describe some of the things we’ve seen or experienced this first month. There is so much for us to learn and we can quickly become overwhelmed with that reality…but we can also chalk up a few items in the “Lessons Learned” column. As I reflect on our first month here, I want to share some of those things with you.

One of the first lessons we learned early on, or rather I should say Jim learned, is that “ron con pasas” ice cream is NOT chocolate chip…even if the picture on the carton resembles what chocolate chip ice cream should look like…at least what Jim thought it should look like. No, it’s actually rum with raisins ice cream…made with real rum and at least a 1000 raisins! It has a very strong and distinctive flavor…which does not improve even when doused with chocolate syrup! I think that was Jim’s first lesson in the necessity of learning the language and not relying just on pictures and charades! Grocery shopping is always good entertainment for us.

The other day, Jim and I had to go do an errand and as we were stopped in traffic, I happened to look out my window and saw a man who had only one leg sitting outside his street-side shack. He was cooking over his little open fire and was sitting in his home-made wheelchair. It was a broken plastic chair (like the millions of cheap plastic chairs seen all over the city) that had a frame attached to two bicycle tires. I couldn’t help but be saddened by the condition of this man but also marvel at the ingenuity of his mode of transportation. I learned that my best pictures are the ones I don’t take.

Further down the street, we saw two children playing. Both were barefoot, wearing mismatched clothing, playing in their all-dirt front “yard”. One, who looked to be about 8 or 9 years old was running as fast as he could, pulling behind him, a red crate (like the kind our milk comes to the stores in) with a rope tied on it. Inside the crate, holding on for dear life, was a cute little guy, maybe 3 or 4 years of age. The wide arc the crate made as the older boy turned around made the few skinny chickens in the yard scatter with what looked to be, great annoyance. Wings were flapping and even a few feathers drifted up in to the air. Inside our car, with the windows rolled up and the a/c cranked on high, we couldn’t hear a sound from them but their faces were ecstatic and their laughter was contagious. In the middle of what most would consider abject poverty, I saw two of the richest people I’ve seen to date - for on their faces, I saw joy unspeakable! Did I mention that I’ve learned my best pictures are the ones I don’t take?

Oh, yeah…here’s a good one…I’ve learned that iguanas don’t squeak. Remember I told you we had iguanas living up in our roof? I made that assumption because Susanna has iguanas that live up in her roof so when we first moved in and we heard the noises up above our ceiling, I assumed we, too, had iguanas. Well, the scurrying noises we hear up and down the walls and all along the ceiling are often accompanied with loud squeaking…and no tail dragging. As exotic and tropical as it sounds to have iguanas living in one’s roof, I’ve had to admit, we’re not exotic and tropical. Nope, we’re hosts to rats and bats and who knows what other “squeaky” things may lurk in the space which should be reserved for exotic and tropical iguanas. Naturally, I was alarmed at that realization…I was alone in that. Again, this seems to be fairly common, due to the types of roofs and their construction, and so I’m becoming used to the noisy neighbors “upstairs”. I’ve not gone so far as to have turned in to a “Willard” (anyone old enough to remember that movie?), but I am getting more sleep now than I was.

We’ve learned that in a culture that still seems to hold somewhat to a separation of social and financial classes that it pays great rewards to ignore those divisions. Each morning we greet Orlando, the 75 year old caretaker who spends his days fighting unseen foes (or I should say we can’t see them – at least not yet). About once a week, I try to make sure I have something to share with Orlando, a piece of fruit, a triangle of pika bread or a mango roll. He usually will sit down under our mango tree, on some concrete blocks he has covered with a scrap of rug, eat his bounty and rub his arthritic knee and pained back, and always, brings forth a smile that brightens even the grayest morning. He keeps the fallen palm branches and mango leaves hauled off, he guards my kitchen door from his invisible tormentors and his face lights up when he sees us. I’ve learned those are dividends that beat anything Merrill Lynch pays out.

We’ve learned that a few bags of groceries to a struggling family doesn’t impact what’s on our pantry shelves but it does theirs. We’ve also learned that it doesn’t really matter in the big picture as to whether we might be taken advantage of or not…it does matter that we are obedient to God’s Word. James 2:14-17 says, “What good is it, my brothers, if a man claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save him? Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, "Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed," but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.” We have learned we don’t want to risk having “dead faith” in exchange for wise giving. We would much rather let God be the one to judge whether our decisions to minister, to give, to feed were the right ones or not.

Those are just a few of the lessons learned and we have oh, so many more ahead of us. We pray that we are quick learners with thick skins, tender hearts, searching eyes, obedient spirits and with a ready sense of humor…we would hate to miss out on the fun each day brings. There is something to be said about being removed from all that is familiar…it makes one so much more appreciative of the presence of God…it also makes us realize God was the creator of laughter…our holy, majestic, almighty God has to enjoy hearing His children laugh…at the absurdities of life and at themselves…and oftentimes, we are qualifying for both at the same time as we adjust to life here in Nicaragua.