Miguel is the caretaker at the church, La Iglesia De La Luz De Las Naciones (Light of the Nations Church), where we usually take our language lessons. It is in the center of the city, about a 45 minute drive from our house and back in a neighborhood that is not one of the best. It’s not a place you would just happen on. The church has a locked and gated small area where the pastor parks his car and where we park when we go there. Miguel is responsible for the gate as well as the maintenance and janitorial aspects of the church. It isn’t a large church but it is a lot of work for one man whose equipment consists of a mop, a bucket and a rag. He lives in a town about 20 miles outside of Managua called Tipitapa, a poorer community, and rides the bus an average of 2 ½ hours a day to get to and from work. He usually arrives at work around 7:30 in the morning and works until 6:00 each evening. He does this 6 days a week with the exception of Sunday when he arrives at 9:00 and works until 5:00 p.m. He is off on Mondays. He is paid about $25 for each of his 60 hour work weeks…a little over $4 a day…$1+ goes to the bus driver each day. And he’s glad he has the job.
Miguel has a wonderful work ethic…hard to find here, I’m learning. It’s not taught, not intentionally nor seemingly, by example. When the country’s transportation system went on strike some weeks back, Miguel rode his bicycle to and from work…over 40 miles a day on roads that are filled with vehicles piloted by thoughtless, distracted, often careless drivers driving as fast as they can…scary enough to face encased in another vehicle. I can’t imagine what it’s like becoming an exposed and vulnerable target on two wheels. But Miguel had a job to do and took
his responsibility as seriously as he does his blessing in having it.
We met Miguel our first day of language lessons. We had gotten lost on the way to the church, having only been by there one time before. We arrived about 10 minutes late and was quickly reprimanded by our instructor for our tardiness. Both he and Miguel were waiting at the gate to the parking area. We apologized and tried to explain but our instructor really wasn’t interested in why we were late, only that we weren’t on time. I think he is the only Nicaraguan I have met who has a sense of punctuality and we have since learned, it’s not a trait he, himself, observes personally. Miguel smiled, greeted us and escorted us upstairs to our classroom.
As we arranged our seats to face the dry erase board and Jonathon, our instructor, got his markers and his books ready, I noticed Miguel quietly took a seat behind us. Jonathon told us that Miguel couldn’t speak English but was interested in sitting in on our Spanish classes and was hoping to pick up some English. I asked Miguel a few days later if he took English classes and he told me that he couldn’t afford to do so although he wanted to learn.
As the weeks have passed, we have gotten to know Miguel better. Somehow, we have managed to communicate with the help of our Spanish/English dictionary, hand motions and God’s grace. We have laughed and been silly and we have shared the burdens on our hearts. He knows we miss our family and friends and he knows it is difficult at times for us here. He understands our struggles with the language and our desire to learn it…and he helps however he can. He worries when we come in to that neighborhood and chastised me the day I got out of the car outside of the gate. He is in awe that we have come here to live and understands it is at God’s direction but marvels that we would actually do so…sometimes, so do we! He is amazed we have seen so much of his country and was absolutely awestruck when we responded to where we have traveled in our lives. He couldn’t even imagine it. Laughingly, he shared with us that he has been to Managua and back to Tipitapa and that’s it. Somehow it does seem odd that our eyes should have seen more of this land than his. But he has great love for his country and desires to see positive change come about…his dream is common to so many but so few act upon it. I think that must be a common malady of mankind, regardless the dream.
Miguel is a Christian and unabashedly shows his love for our Lord. He is the only one in his family who is not Catholic and he told us it is often very difficult for him because of that. His family does not understand the way he chooses to live his life or the things he has chosen to omit from it. He has taught himself how
to play the electric keyboard at the church and has blessed us with some of his favorite songs. He even wrote out the words to “Open the Eyes of My Heart, Lord” in Spanish so that we could learn to sing with him and be able to understand it when they sang it in our own church. He sings and plays with such reverence and an attitude of worship that sometimes, I feel as though we’re intruding in a special time between he and the Lord. Miguel is 37 years old and is one of 12 children. His father left all of them to go live with another woman and his mother has raised them on her own. Miguel and his wife live with her as she has some health issues and they try to help her as best they can. He has a sister who is a teacher who also helps with the little that she has. Most of the other children have moved away or have their own lives and problems with which to deal.
Miguel’s first wife left him and took their two children (ages 8 and 11) but because they live in the same town, he gets to see them when the mother allows. This breakup seemed to have been very painful and although he’s been remarried for a year, the failed first marriage seems to be a matter of shame for him. He became quite emotional when he spoke about it and appeared to be embarrassed to share with us that he had been married before. It broke my heart to see such pain on his face. I know too well how the past can hang like a shroud over someone’s life. I know Miguel understands salvation, I’m not sure he understands grace and forgiveness and redemp-tion. I pray God will give me the tongue to share that and grant Miguel the ears to hear it.
He has shared with us his dream. He loves being at the church but he hates his commute. He’s away from home so much and his wife is not happy. He worries about that a lot. He wants to learn English as he feels that will only benefit him in the future. I have been working with him 3-5x a week on teaching him English. He’s a bright and motivated student and we enjoy our time with him during those lessons. He’s also helping me with my Spanish in return and the only thing it’s costing either of us is our time… and our gas to get there but that’s okay. We just go early on the days we have language lessons scheduled and on the days they’re held somewhere else, we go by after lessons. We’re making it work.
Miguel dreams of being a business owner. He wants someday to be able to own a stall at the market in Tipitapa and to sell videos and cds, with a lot of them Christian music. We think that’s an admirable vocation but we are concerned as most of the videos and cds for sale on the streets are pirated copies. Miguel doesn’t know that or even what that means. We hope to be able to educate him on that and perhaps redirect his desire to another field that would be worthy of his integrity. Again, we will probably have to rely on Susanna to help us with the finer points of translation for such a conversation as that. We are praying about how much we are to be involved in this part of Miguel’s life and we are going to wait upon the Lord for a clear decision regarding that.
Miguel also has some health issues but we don’t understand well enough to know what they are or what that ultimately means. We know he gets dizzy sometimes and he doesn’t eat lunch (for financial reasons, I’m sure). He had been to a doctor once, which was very expensive (about $10), and the doctor told him he needed to have blood work done. That is beyond the most remote possibility for Miguel. He does not know this but we are taking Susanna with us to meet him tomorrow to advise and help guide us as to how best to help him seek the right kind of medical care. He is a brother who is in need.
I noticed that Miguel wore the same two outfits repeatedly, always clean but much worn. When the team that came to Rio Blanco returned to the States, they left behind some clothing to give out. I had washed up all the things and had put them in a closet in the spare room…our mission’s closet. The day Miguel had talked to us about his first marriage and was sharing some things about his family, it struck me about his clothing. I remembered those things in the mission closet and could hardly wait to get home to go through them. I picked out a handful of t-shirts and a pair of pants and a few other things, hoping the sizes wouldn’t be too far off…he’s very thin.
When we took them to him the next day, he was overcome and kept thanking us for the items. I told him the team had left them and didn’t know if he would be interested in any of them or not and that in no way was I meaning to be disrespectful or unkind and it would not hurt my feelings if he didn’t want them. I don’t even think he heard me…he looked like a child on Christmas morning, his eyes shining and his smile stretching from ear to ear. The next day, he had on one of the t-shirts and told me that I had a very good eye and that all those things fit. He still has yet to wear the jeans, but they were in such great shape that he may be saving them for good.
Jim and I both feel God has burdened our hearts for Miguel and we have been praying and asking God to guide us as to how much we are to help. He has never asked for one thing…which is unusual since I’m sure he has the same misperception about us that most Nicas do. He does not volunteer his stories, we have asked for them. We are in agreement God has brought him in to our lives for a reason and we don’t want to miss the blessing.
There are many well-intentioned missionaries here who caution us to be careful so that we’re not taken advantage of…I understand what they’re saying but I don’t think that’s our call. We’re not here to guard our pride or our pocketbooks. We’re here to be the Lord’s hands, feet and voice. It’s a weighty responsibility and not one we take flippantly or lightly. We believe that we’re to be obedient to what God lays before us and that it’s between God and the other party as to how they handle what we’ve been called to give. That’s not to say we want to be foolish or haphazard with our funds…just the opposite. We want to be good stewards. We also want to remember that these resources are really the Lord’s and we’re just the pipeline to get them to where they need to go. If we’re to error, I pray we error on the side of love and generosity.
With that as our thinking, Jim and I went to the store, bought a plastic clothesbasket and filled it with food staples…10 # beans, 10# rice, 2 liters of cooking oil, 3 # tortilla flour, 2# sugar, a large bag of salt, ketchup, spaghetti, tomato paste, soup mixes, a prized jar of peanut butter that someone had given us (it’s high in protein), crackers and some packages of some cookies that are popular here. It was packed to the rim with food...the funny thing is the basket cost almost ¼ the entire amount we spent! Plastic here is ridiculous but it’s a sturdy basket, one they for which they will find lots of uses and one they would never buy for themselves.
Again, yet another Christmas morning came for Miguel. His eyes filled with tears and he said that we had been an answer to specific prayer…his family needed food. It was such a tender and humbling moment…what if Jim and I hadn’t responded to the “impression” God had put upon our hearts? Miguel would never have told us his family was hungry…they just would have missed another meal. And we would have missed the most amazing blessing.
These are the kinds of things your support does…I almost feel guilty that you can’t be there at the moment of giving but I know God will bless you for your giving as much as He has us for being the conduit. As a matter of fact, Miguel asked me why we would do such a thing. I explained to him we had been blessed by God through others and that we were simply passing that blessing on and that someday, he would be able to pass that blessing on to someone else. He understood and kept saying “hallelujah” and “Gracias, Jesus”. Talk about a mountaintop experience…we had it!
The next day, Miguel told us he managed to get the whole basket on the bus and although it was very heavy to carry, God gave him the strength to get it home. He said his mother and his wife and the rest of the family were so very happy. He said his wife had heard of peanut butter and that it was a “rich food” and that it was a special gift. He said she was as happy as he had seen her in a long time and that they had a good evening and talked much. I believe that made Miguel happier than the food.
As we were preparing to leave Miguel’s English lesson, he took me to a small little flower bed at the side of the church. He had transplanted and divided up one of the plants (I think it is Torenia but I won’t know until it blooms) and had potted two of the transplants in to two clay pots for us. He wanted us to have it as he knows we love flowers. (I had told him a few weeks prior that I missed all my flowers and how much I had enjoyed working in the yard when we lived in Cassville.) I was so touched that he would do such a thing. He knows we have no needs that he could meet monetarily but instead, he saw a need inside of me that only another gardener would understand…a pot of dirt with a clump of green in it to help make a house a home. Funny how we started out wanting to bless Miguel and we end up being the ones who are blessed. Isn’t God good?
some of the parents shifted from one foot to another, sometimes looking uneasily at one another…but regardless what they might have thought, none would have even dreamt to show any disrespect to this man who had just given them and those children an opportunity they would never have otherwise. So, the group listened while the rest of us prayed that God would open ears and tender hearts and that as a result, those who had come that day, would someday experience a higher Kingdom than just the animal kingdom which they had earlier observed. 
It would have been hard, back-breaking work anytime, but add about a jillion pounds of 
water to the dirt floor that was being excavated and the moving of the mud really taxed their muscles and could have taxed their moods…didn’t happen. They never stopped smiling. 
grandchildren all lived in a small house. This now meant that not only would there be more space for all of them, but there would also be more privacy. He said he felt like he was being given his life back. It was a very touching moment as he expressed his thanks with a choked up voice and very teary eyes. He wasn’t the only one who had tears in their eyes that morning. 
Later that afternoon, the team went up in to the mountains to go hiking up to a waterfall…as if they hadn’t already had their fill of water! Jim and I stayed at the hotel with two of the girls who chose not to go. One was ill and the other just didn’t have any desire to get any wetter than she already was. And although we both would have loved to have seen the waterfall, I don’t think I would have loved getting to it. The pictures of it were beautiful and maybe someday, maybe in the dry season, we’ll try visiting it.
and water went into full effect and what, moments earlier, had seemed to be yet another depressing downpour, quickly turned in to an unexpected moment of delight. That little girl found joy in the storm. I am glad I was privy to such a moment and I hope that the next time I feel inundated by my own “downpours” , I would somehow see them through fresh eyes and find the unexpected joy that might be right before me. 
We were supposed to meet in the old building…the one where the roof leaks and there’s not much ventilation…but the lady who had the keys, didn’t have the keys for the old building…only the new one.
So, we set up shop in two classrooms with the waiting room and pharmacy in one room and the doctor’s office in the other.
The kids absolutely loved their time there and the team members worked every bit as hard at their job duties as did the construction team. They did get to stay dry for the most part as the majority of their time was spent inside the church…although they did have one day that several of them took the kids to a field to play ball and while there, the heavens opened the drain plug and they were all drenched to the skin. Even so, no complaints from those folks…those team members just kept on doing what they were scheduled to do. And that was to be a blessing to those kids. They were successful whether wet or dry.
They made sure every child felt special and every child mattered. Each child, from the smallest toddler to the oldest ones, had an opportunity to share what they had learned, to be the center of attention in a positive way and to get lots of hugs and affirmation. It really touched my heart knowing how special that time was to so many of those children…they had a few hours where they didn’t have to worry about carrying water, carrying a little brother or sister or carrying the secret burdens buried in their hearts. For that brief time each day, the heaviest thing they had to carry were the things they had made to take home for that day. They got to be what they should be, carefree children, laughing, playing and enjoying life. The hours and the days passed by too quickly for most of them, I’m sure.
The remainder of the team members, after dropping off the VBS workers, rode the bus to the construction site. This is where we spent the majority of our time, as well. The construction projects were to consist of replacing leaky roofs on two different houses. At least, that’s what we thought when we started that Monday morning, anyway. We had a Nicaraguan carpenter with us who was the expert on the job. Fausto said little and smiled even less. We all wondered what he must have thought of this group of gringos who had come with much better intentions than skill in building Nicaraguan structures.
The first house was occupied by a grandmother, her daughter and a handful of children. The roof on the back part of her two room house was leaking terribly and so the plan was to replace only that part. When the guys got in to the demolition part of it, one of the posts which was holding up the roof over the outside kitchen broke off…it had rotted completely through. That end of the kitchen started to collapse and so the plan quickly changed. Not only was the crew going to replace the back portion of the tin roof, they were now going to have to rebuild the kitchen area.
This didn’t look too difficult at first blush…it was a nightmare!!! The bottom portion of the broken post was obviously anchored in Beijing, China. The team all took turns trying to remove that one stub of a post. They dug all around it. That only resulted in a large hole which surrounded the unmovable post. They used a wooden pole with a narrow spade-type blade on it as a fulcrum in hopes of dislodging it. The blade broke. They attacked it with various other tools – hammers, a saw, the machete, shovels and even bare hands. What started out as good-natured ribbing among the team as to why the strong guys couldn’t move the post soon turned in to an obsession of great magnitude with every one of the participants…it was no longer an issue that the post needed to be removed in order to set a new post. Nope, it turned in to a Battle Royale…Man Against Post. It wasn’t looking good for Man. 
Meanwhile, Fausto and Aaron were focusing on rebuilding the framework for the roof as well as the new kitchen. The two were perfectionists in their own right. Fausto seemed to have little patience or regard for the gringo way of construction. Aaron struggled to understand the incommunicative Nica who was not used to working with Americans…especially, fun-loving, high-spirited young adults whose enthusiasm was matched only by their attitudes of grace and their desire to serve. It was a rocky beginning for those two construction gurus. Thankfully, by the end of the week, they had all built more than a couple of structures…they had built a friendship with Fausto and a new respect was earned and granted from all sides.
There was another room similar in size on the other side of the wooden plank wall…it held a couple of hammocks, some rags or blankets, I couldn’t really tell, but they appeared to be on top of a couple of boards that was obviously a bed plus a pile of clothes. There were no extras – not that I could see. The area that had been de-roofed on the back side of these two rooms looked as though it had several rough cut wooden shelves which held a couple of mismatched dinged up pans and several plates. There was a small closed in closet-type area made of scrap wood and bamboo and it was open at the top. I’m assuming that’s where they must have kept their beans and rice and other food items…as sparse as I imagine they were. It makes sense that’s where they would be as neighborhood chickens, dogs and pigs would not be able to have easy access to them that way. As expected, the bathroom was nothing more than an outhouse with only a curtain which served as a door. It was down a path behind the house and looked as though it served several other houses in the immediate area.
It was hard to look directly in to the faces of the women who lived there…there was no man in the house. It was much easier to love on the children, to play games with them, to take their pictures. Somehow, it seemed such an intrusion for us all to be traipsing back and forth through their home – even though that was the only way to navigate from the front to the back with the team working on the kitchen area. It was painful to see such poverty and need up close. It has always bothered me, but I have always looked at it from the protection of a vehicle, the insulation of a group or from the distance of a camera lens. Sitting in it, touching it, feeling it all around me somehow made me feel very uneasy and vulnerable. I didn’t understand it.
