Update on Kenet...

I have an update on Kenet...he's home for 15 days to rest and try to get his strength built back up a little bit. The doctors added radiation to his chemotherapy treatments as a last resort effort to try to stop the advancement of cancer. They have said this is all that can be done. He's so thin and very weak but Miguel said he's glad to be home. His tumor has shrunk some but he's been in a lot of pain and while in the hospital, they were giving him injections of morphine to try to control it. I asked Miguel about a shunt but he wasn't familiar with it, saying that Kenet had to have a shot every time for his pain. Just the thought of a child having to have morphine makes my stomach turn. It is so hard knowing this little guy is suffering like he is. He is a sweet, precious child. Please continue to keep him in your prayers. We may be in a country where the medical technology isn't as refined as it is in the States, but that means nothing to our God. He is the great Physician and nothing is too difficult for Him. Thank you for your faithfulness to pray.

My Nicaraguan Ninevah...

I have a question…do you think God has a sense of humor? Or do you think that sometimes the things God puts before us to do seem to be the very things we said we would never do? Like going to a Spanish speaking country or working with children? I want to share this with you. I took 2 years of Spanish in Junior High…didn’t care for it. It seemed such a waste. So, I switched my language study to 4 years of French and continued on with it in college. It was such a beautiful language and I just knew that someday I would live the romantic life of a Paris bohemian writer, wandering the streets along the Seine, eating crusty bread for breakfast and haunting the art museums. Didn’t work out that way.

Some years back, after our first Global Impact Conference in our church, Jim and I had an opportunity to go on a mission trip to Mexico with a group from our church. I remember as clearly as though it just came out of my mouth, that I told Jim I didn’t want to go. When he asked me why, I told him it was because they spoke Spanish there and I just wasn’t interested in going to a Spanish speaking country. Always a good reason to not go on a mission trip. The trip was cancelled and we went to the inner city of Chicago instead. No problem.

Later, an opportunity came up for me to go to Peru. A lady in our church told me she would pay for my trip if I would go, because she felt strongly that God wanted me to go. I appreciated the offer but turned down the opportunity…they spoke Spanish there. So where am I today? In the heart of Latin America where they speak what???

I will start this off by saying my grandchildren are totally exempt from this next part…and if you know my grandchildren, I’m sure you’ll agree with me for they’re as close to perfect as children can be. And if you don’t know them, you are missing out on one of the greatest delights in life! They’re brilliant, beautiful and should be the standard for all other children…okay, maybe that’s a bit thick, but the point is I love them with every fiber of my being and miss them more than I can put in to words.

That being said, for years, I’ve said I’m not a “kid-person”. Ask our Children’s Minister, Jeanna...there’s no doubt she’ll vouch for the veracity of that statement. As a matter of fact, anyone who knows me even slightly, would probably also attest to that fact. Now, don’t run wild with that. I don’t hate kids…I just prefer to spend the majority of my time with adults versus children. I don’t work with children. I don’t know how to relate to them. I expect them to be polite, well-behaved and respectful. I expect Stepford children. My father lived by the adage that children should be seen and not heard and I think that saying went to the grave with him because it’s certainly not in practice today. The problem is, (with the exception of my perfect grandkids, of course), I find most children aren’t like that. So, the way I have always dealt with that is not to. I avoid kids and I avoid working with kids. It’s a simple plan that has been very effective. Until now. Until God said, “Guess what? Missions for you right now is more than just going to a Spanish speaking country, Lynne, it’s working with kids.” Is He kidding me??? Nope.
So, Jim and I began our work out at the school at Los Cedros. If I’ve learned anything at all about God, it’s that when He makes His word clear in our lives, we better not just be listening but also, “doing”. So, currently, Los Cedros is consuming much of our time and many of our conversations. Although we’re at the school just two days a week, it takes a lot of time to prepare our lessons…first in English for ourselves and then in Spanish for clarification for the students. Our Spanish-English dictionaries are never far from our reach. We often discuss what the best way is to handle whatever the child-challenge of the moment happens to be.

Jim is teaching an agricultural class with the 4th through the 6th grade students. He has been teaching them the fundamentals about plants and they are now getting ready to actually start working their garden plots. Because we’re in the dry season here, the ground is as hard as concrete. Jim has been putting water on the area, but it hasn’t seemed to help much. Of course, there are no roto-tillers or garden tractors, just picks and shovels…and oxen. We found out yesterday that a team of oxen was brought to the school to break up the ground. I hate it that we weren’t there…I would have loved to have seen that. I have a thing for the oxen. There is so much power in those massive animals harnessed in their hand-hewn yokes. I remember the definition of meekness our former pastor had used…power under control. It’s hard to picture oxen as meek but they are definitely powerful creatures that respond quickly and quietly to their master’s commands…if only I would learn to do the same.

I’m supposed to be teaching English to 1st through 6th graders. I don’t think that’s happening as yet. I am not a children’s teacher. I love to lead women’s studies. I have a compassionate heart for hurting women. I love to encourage people in their marriages and to help them discover what God’s word says about the issues they are facing in their lives. I was sure that “resume” would keep me out of children’s ministry.

When I was growing up, I dreamed of being a teacher. I would have school on my front porch and I must say, I was a pretty good educator. I would give pop quizzes, bandage boo-boos, have spelling bees and quiet, peaceful story times. Naturally, I gave lots of hugs as any teacher worth her salt should...remember, those were the days when such things were not only permissible, but encouraged. Of course, my dolls and stuffed animals were all brilliant students and not a single one of them would jump up, yell, throw things, roll on the floor or do an impromptu tackle of a passing buddy. And even if the thought might have flitted through their little stuffed brains or shiny, vinyl heads, they wouldn’t have dared…my, how times have changed!

I think what I really must have wanted to do was to have an office supply store! I’m not quite sure how, but I think I must have confused straightening, organizing and color-coding reams of paper, packages of pens, mountains of colored folders, stacks of stickers and cases of spiral notebooks with fending off approximately 140 + unruly and unwilling students. Thankfully, the preschool and kindergarten do not have English class as part of their curriculum. Whatever…this isn’t exactly what I had dreamed of oh, so many years ago. I will say that as we are finishing up our first month at the school, things are getting a bit better…or else I’m getting a little quicker…not sure which. Regardless, I’m still drawing breath and I plan on returning for the next round.

The students are from a poorer community. And, I’m learning that my expectations have had to change quite a bit. The children don’t spell well in their own language and apparently, that isn’t as important as it once was when dinosaurs walked the earth. I’m finding I’m correcting spelling in two languages…one of which I don’t even have a firm grasp of yet. What a way to take a crash course in Spanish!

Typically, children’s ages are within a year or two of each other for each grade. Not so here. In my 1st grade class, I have 21 students, ages 5 through 9; 2nd grade has 19 students, ages 6 through 8; 3rd grade has 27 students, ages 7 through 13; 4th grade has 28 students, age 8 through 14; 5th grade has 28 students, ages 8 through 15 and 6th grade has 19 students, ages 10 through 17. Those are some large spans to cover in terms of dealing with egos, issues and hormones, let alone just trying to teach the basics of a language they really don’t care to learn.

Unfortunately, what I spend a great deal of time doing, although less now than a few weeks ago, is teaching basic acceptable behavior in a classroom. Here, life seems to radiate from a central point of noisy chaos. Right now, my focus is to lower the decibels a bit to a somewhat quieter level of chaos, if there is such a thing. The next step will be a little less activity and a little more attention. Ideally, by the time this year is over, we’ll have progressed to actually knowing some English and be able to demonstrate basic classroom comportment. Ideally.

What has not changed from those early years of my make-believe school are the hugs. Given and received. Freely and often, unexpectedly…given and received. It’s in those moments, when I am ready to choke out-of-control Carlos, Denzel or Maria that God is faithful to close my ears and open my eyes so that I see the uncombed hair, the ripped and dirty shirt, the ill-fitted shoes and the terribly thin little arms. It’s when class has ended and I’m so ready to leave, that I get a tight hug from Carlos, Denzel and Maria…and I find myself giving it back in return.

These children have rebellious spirits. I understand that. I have one myself. They don’t like authority. I get that. They feel like they’re going to explode sometimes. I identify. Their screams and shouts are nothing more than just crying out for someone to notice them, to love them. That’s me and I would imagine, you. We all do it…we just may do it differently. They have empty places in their homes and in their hearts. I remember all too well how that feels. I think maybe that’s why God has put these children before me as my current mission field. I get it. I want them to have better. I want them to live better. I want them to learn. But most of all, I want their empty places filled. I want them to know Jesus. And thankfully, when I fear my supply of love is going to run short, God reminds me His is endless and He will do the loving…I’m just to be the flesh in which it is demonstrated. It’s a hard mission field in so many ways…much like Jim’s garden plot area. I have to quit trying to break the soil myself and just step back and trust God to prepare the soil for the seeds He calls me to plant.

A word to the wise…don’t dictate to God where you will or won’t go. Don’t tell Him what your strengths or spiritual gifts are and where you can best use them. Don’t be so arrogant as to pick and choose what your “ministry” will be. Otherwise, you’re still operating out of your own strength. I believe with all my heart, based on my own current personal experience, that God will use your dislikes, your prejudices, your fears, your weaknesses, and your ignorance to point you to your Ninevah. Most likely, it's not going to be the place and the people you want to serve. There’s no point in fighting His direction...after all, who wants to be a whale’s human hair ball?

A recap of the month...

It’s seems like much of life is either feast or famine, doesn’t it? That’s the way life has been for us recently and that’s been reflected in the blog. For awhile, I had lots of time to be able to sit and write of the daily happenings here but recently, free time tends to be a bit more “faminous”…I know that’s not a word, but it seems to be such an aptly coined word for this, that I thought I would go ahead and use it…creative license.

Since I’ve not been able to write for over 3 weeks…wow, has it really been that long?...I thought I would just do some quick summaries to get you caught up to speed with our Managua meanderings and musings. I’m not sure how it can be that we are so busy all the time but my mind goes blank when I try to detail it for you! I want to blame it on the heat, the environment, the inconsistency of services, but honestly, I don’t think that would be any different if we were State-side…

So here goes…we were privileged to Pixie-sit for almost a month for Susanna while she was tied up with various projects. It was pure joy! Pixie’s now back home with her mama and we miss her terribly. Only a “dog person” would understand this…she has such a fun personality (canine-ality, maybe???), that life’s a little less “sparkly” without her here. We’re petitioning for increased visitation rights.

Jim and I are now out at the Christian school in Los Cedros – he is teaching agriculture to the children and I am teaching English. We have the first month under our belts now and so far, there haven’t been any casualties. You can read a bit more about that in the following blog.
We have done both medical clinics this month…the one in Jinotepe was the 7th of February and the one in Rio Blanco was the 21st. These clinics always make for a tiring weekend but also a very rewarding one. The reading glasses continue to be a popular item and we thank those who sent even more down to us this month. They are such a blessing.

We had company the 13th, 14th and 15th of this month. The young man who was the leader of the team who came last June from South Carolina brought his sister for her first visit. They were working with another team who came in on the 16th. We were able to host Jay and Sherry for a few days and thoroughly enjoyed our time with them. They surprised us with lots of craft items for me to use at the school in Los Cedros, some clothes to distribute along with some reading glasses and vitamins for our clinics. It was like another Christmas!

Although our time together was short, we managed to get in a day at the beach (Pacific Ocean) where we played in the water, gathered shells and spent time with God. It was Valentine’s Day and surprisingly, the beach was almost desolate. But it made it easy for each of us to find our own little stretch of sand where our thoughts wouldn’t crash into each other. There’s something soothing about an empty beach where the only sound is the ocean’s song.

I have to tell you about my Valentine’s Day. I was really struggling that day about issues I was facing at the school. I was ready to swallow my pride and tell the school administration that I didn’t think I was the right person for that position. I am not a teacher of children. Just as soon as I was convinced that was the course of action to take, I would then waffle and wonder if it was my pride getting in the way in that I was trying to deal with something that I just couldn’t handle and I certainly didn’t want to appear as a failure. But, I’m not a quitter so I had decided I would stick it out. Of course, about that time, the pendulum would swing back the other way and I would start to wonder if it was my pride that was making me stay…because I’m not a quitter. Do you catch the theme of my struggle here? My pride?

I was really pouring my heart out to God on this. I had those who told me I was right to say that I didn’t need to subject myself to twice weekly migraines. I had others say that it would get better and that God had put me there. I didn’t know what I wanted. I wasn’t enjoying school but I didn’t believe my enjoyment was the issue. I didn’t want to stay out of stubborn pride but I knew I didn’t want to leave out of wounded pride.

The tide was coming in and with each wave washing over the sands, there was a new display of shells and rocks, which would disappear with the following wave’s ebb and flow. Because the four of us were spread out pretty far, we couldn’t hear one another so I didn’t think twice about talking out loud to God. As I walked the beach, looking for unusual shells, I poured out my frustrations, my concerns and my uncertainties. I asked my questions and God wrote His answers in the sand. Not the way Jesus did with the Pharisees and the scribes, but nevertheless, the answer was before me, as plain as day. It was spelled out in Shell-ese.

There were thousands of shells on the beach…broken, whole, simple, ornate, rough, smooth, clean and dirty. But each was unique. God had made each one of those shells I picked up, just a bit different than the other. He impressed on me that He loved creating each and every one of them and that He loved them just as they were. Just like He did with those kids. And for whatever reason, He wants me to see them as wonderfully unique and as lovingly created as those shells. And my purpose for being there really isn’t to teach English, but to teach them the same lesson He had just taught me. So, there was my answer. I was going to stay at the school. I had been playing my own version of the shell game, moving my pride from one place to the other. God called me on it and put it out there pretty plainly…it wasn’t about me.

I wanted there to be angels singing and harps playing in response to the answer put before me…there wasn’t…at least not that I heard. I still heard only the waves crashing. But as soon as I knew in the very depths of my heart that I was supposed to stay at the school and I made the commitment to myself to do so, I looked down and saw the most amazing gift from God, a reminder that He didn’t just love those kids, He loved me, too, and that He was still in control of all things. It was a small red, heart-shaped rock. No kidding. What an amazing God we serve! I am still so often overwhelmed at His love…the lengths He goes to in order to remind me of that fact. That He would be mindful of me, in spite of my “me-focus”; that He would make His “voice” heard by writing His message in the sand and that He would give me a Valentine to keep as a tangible reminder of that precious love of His. Amazing.

My little red heart sits in my dish of beautifully colored rocks and shells that I brought home that day, each one different and unique, including a lava rock encrusted with lots of little shells and fossils and a perfect sand dollar but none more special to me than my Valentine from God.

Who am I that You are mindful of me?

That You hear me when I call

Is it true that You are thinking of me?

How you Love me, it's amazing.

Jay and Sherry left the night of the 15th and the next night, another friend arrived. Jackie, who is our Mission’s Director, from our home church in Cassville, came to spend a week with us. And, she came bearing gifts! Once again, we celebrated yet another Christmas! Food, chocolate, crafts, cds, books, teaching materials, more reading glasses, vitamins, and on and on! It was unbelievable! We felt spoiled and pampered…and extremely grateful for everyone’s generosity and thoughtfulness.

We packed a full week in for Jackie. She spent the day with us at Los Cedros, weathering the wind, the heat and the kids! What a trooper! The next day, we took her to our language class with Miguel. He was thrilled to have another American with whom to practice his English. We stopped at Dona Blanca’s to eat and then after a little bit of shopping at one of the local markets, on to visit the Children’s Center where we dropped off diapers and wipes.

The following day, we went to Ticuantepe to visit a working pineapple and pitaya farm. It is a ministry run by some new friends of ours and they had asked us to come and visit as that was also where Jay and Sherry were working with their team so it all worked out great. It was so beautiful there…the valley is often referred to as the garden of Eden. The acidic volcanic soil is perfect for growing the pineapples and pitayas. The other unique part of that area is it leads right in to the Chocoyero National Reserve. This area is a tropical dry forest and is filled with lots of wildlife, including howler and whiteface monkeys as well as beautiful flora. The chocoya parrots roost there in the holes of the canyons. It’s a breathtakingly beautiful place.

Later that day, we met Miguel at the church and then all headed to Tipitapa for an afternoon’s visit. Miguel took us to meet some of his friends, one of whom is studying English at the University, and then we went to visit the thermal baths (no, we didn’t bathe!). These are natural hot baths (199 degrees farenheit) which are heated by the various volcanoes in the area. It’s a bit rundown but very interesting. Afterwards, we went to a little roadside place to eat quesillos which are tortillas filled with a soft, mild cheese (like mozzarella) and a creamy onion sauce. We also each tried a drink of tiste, which is a cacao and corn drink. We enjoyed our visit with Miguel’s friends and then went to his house so Jackie could meet his family.

While there, we found out that Elizabeth was really sick with an abscessed molar. When I asked her if she was going to the dentist, she just shrugged. Her eyes looked feverish, although her hands were like ice and she wouldn’t eat. Jim and I talked a bit with Miguel and after a lot of questioning, we found out that she wasn’t going due to the cost. We always try to carry a little bit of money on us just for those types of situations and thankfully, we were able to take care of that. Since then, we have found out that because of that financial help, Elizabeth was able to go to a private dentist where she received Novocain before he extracted her tooth. That was considered a luxury. We have so much…

On Friday, we left for Rio Blanco, arriving while it was still daylight so we could show Jackie the town. It didn’t take long! There was a terrible bus accident right at the entrance to our hotel. A bus from the Verbo church (the Nicaraguan church we sometimes attend in Managua) had lost its brakes coming down the mountain early that morning on its way to take a load of construction materials to Puerta Cabeza on the east coast. It flipped over, killing the driver. It was really a terrible accident and I can’t believe that there was only one fatality as it crushed the top of the bus.

There was quite a group from Managua at the clinic as Susanna had people from her church there and our friends, Roger and Rhonda were also there on their way to the RAAN…the north-eastern part of the country. I think the little hotel we stay at loves our weekends there! We had another busy clinic with an added service of a dentist this time. I’m assuming it was a blessing although from the screams of the children, I don’t know that I would swear to it! Seems like he didn’t use Novacain! It was hard to hear, believe me. Once again, the reading glasses were a hit!

Jackie, Jim and I returned to Managua that night and spent the day on Sunday, recuperating and catching up on laundry. Unfortunately, Jackie experienced first hand our daily water outages but I have to say there was never a word of complaint from her about one thing! It was so hard to let her go back home that Monday. She was an encouragement and it was such a special time to spend time with a like-minded follower of Jesus Christ. We’re still glowing inside as a result of her visit!

Tuesday, we were back at school again but only for 1 day this week as the teachers are in training today and tomorrow. So, actually, we’re getting a break! It’s been a busy month and we’re glad for a few down days to try to get caught up on things.

Jim’s folks are having some serious health issues, which is really hard for the entire family. His brother, Chuck, is dealing with everything by himself right now as Jim’s other brother is vacationing down in Texas for the winter. It’s difficult for Jim being so far away at this time. We knew these kinds of issues were bound to come but that doesn’t make it easier when they do. It’s hard not to be there right now. We throw the word “sacrifice” around pretty lightly until we’re called to do it and then it takes on new meaning.

Well, I think that is pretty much it in a nutshell…a big nutshell, I’ll admit, but we’ve had a lot of month to pack in to one blog. Thank you for your patience and hopefully, I can get some kind of workable schedule going on here as far as balancing school, clinics, visits, tutoring Miguel and blogging. And if I work it just right, we might even get some laundry done on occasion!

Kenet...

For those of you who have been keeping up with our lives here for awhile, you might remember Kenet...Miguel's young nephew who has cancer. He returned to the hospital this week as he was supposed to start another round of chemotherapy but cannot due to an infection. Miguel didn't have a lot of details for us today but it seems he's really quite sick. The doctors have not been able to break his fever and they've discovered another "growth" in his groin area. His little body is really being ravaged right now.

He has the best disposition and has been fighting this cancer with all he has. Cancer is obviously no respecter of persons and it's hard to see anyone battle with this insidious disease, no matter the type, but it's especially difficult to see a young child be forced to grow old so quickly because of the taxation the disease and the treatment place on his frame. Kenet should be out playing ball or complaining about having to do homework...not fighting for his life. God has really placed a burden on my heart for this special young man.

And so, I would ask that you carry this sweet young boy in to the Throne Room of the Lord and place him at His feet. You may not think your prayers mean much but I want to assure you they absolutely do. Kenet needs your hearts and your voices to stand in the gap for him right now. He needs your prayers and believe me, the family needs them as well. I want this family to know that our God is real, that He hears our petitions and that He has a plan for each one of us. So I am going to ask a special favor...if you will sincerely and faithfully lift this young man up in prayer, could you please let me know either through the comment area here or by my e-mail (curtis10061006@yahoo.com) so that I can copy those words of encouragment and pass them on to Miguel to give to Kenet and his mother? I believe God will use Kenet and his cancer to draw this family to Himself.

Thank you so much for your prayers. You will bless so many with your faithfulness in this petition, the least not being yourself as you spend a special time with the Lord.

Home sweet home...

The big day had arrived. We were going south to Costa Rica! Nicaragua allows non-residents to stay for 90 continuous days and then they must either apply for one-time extension of their visa or leave the country. We had already gone the extension route so our only alternative now was to leave the country. The law was originally written that it was to be for 72 hours but they have either changed it or they no longer seem to observe it.

The previous two weeks were spent getting all our paperwork in order so that we could take our car out of the country and bring it back in again…a lengthy and complicated process we never could have managed getting through without our friend Roger leading us by the hand. If you’re not up to speed on that saga, I wrote about it earlier and it can be found in January’s blogs. But, we were past that and at last, we had all our paperwork in order and were ready to get the deed done. It had been a long weekend as it was our Rio Blanco weekend…I also wrote about that in the previous blog.

A week ago, on Monday morning, we had planned on leaving early but since I shut off the 5:00 a.m. alarm and went back to sleep, we didn’t make it to Jinotepe to pick up Roger until almost 8:30 a.m. And though we got a late start, we seemed to do fine on our time. It helped that we didn’t have a whole lot of traffic with which to contend which made Jim happy. As for me, I was excited to see the sights as we had not traveled that far south before.

As we passed Lake Nicaragua which is often reputed to be the largest lake in Central America and the 21st largest lake in the world, we got great views of the two volcanoes, Concepcion and Maderas. They are the focal points of Ometepe Island, which is an island rich in pre-Columbian artifacts. The winds were strong coming across the lake and there were some pretty good sized whitecaps. I discovered later that the east winds blowing across the lake toward the nearby Pacific Ocean make it quite prone to sudden storms (much like the Sea of Galilee!). Just outside of Rivas, there is quite a windmill project being built to take advantage of these strong winds. These giant “propellers” look out of place in this country but if they eventually help to stabilize the electrical grid here, I think they would easily be considered functional works of art.

All of a sudden, we were at the border. I don’t know what I expected, but what it is, wasn’t it. It just seemed to be a random placing of buildings, some newer and some looking pretty shabby. It wasn’t a surprise that there was some traffic congestion. Roger directed Jim where to drive and told us we would need to stop before the entry to pay the “voluntary” municipal tax of $1.00 per person. Even before Jim came to a complete stop, the car was literally surrounded by young men, all yelling and waving. They swarmed to Jim’s window. It’s not often that I get really scared, but that scared me. I was really intimidated by the number and the energy of the young men, all trying to out-yell one another, reaching their arms out towards Jim’s window. Roger, in the back seat, calmly rolled down his window and told one guy we would need three tax stamps and told the other dozen or so guys that we wouldn’t need their services. We have been so thankful Roger has helped us throughout this process, but at that moment, no more so than right then.

We then drove to a small blue building where we had to show our passports and received a big, stamped square of white paper. From there, we drove around to the back of a big building where cars and buses park. Again, there was a frenzy of motion. There were vendors set up along a covered walk area and quite a few men who wanted to be hired to help us go through the border procedure. Add to that, the people who were passengers on the buses out walking around and it was a hub of activity.

We hired one young man who took our circulation card (car identification card), the white ticket we had received, Jim’s license and our Permit to Leave and went to find a policeman and an inspector to sign off on our things. It was a little unnerving handing this kid all our documents but Roger said it was okay and that we would learn who was trustworthy and who wasn’t. I didn’t even want to think about how those lessons would be learned. It’s not necessary to hire one of these guys, but it speeds up the process considerably as they know just who to go see and because they shares a cut of their pay, the officials give those guys first priority. Thankfully, our young man was one of the good guys and he came back in short order with the approved paperwork. Later, as Jim paid him 80 cord (approx. $4.00) for his assistance, I asked him his name for future reference. Francisco assured me he would be happy to help us in the future. He liked Jim. Most folks only give a couple of dollars. I only hope that he’s still there the next time we have to make that trip as he was worth every bit of $4.00 to us!

Our next step was to go inside the building and get in the line to have vehicles approved to cross the border. We had to again show our circulation card, Jim’s license, the Permit to Leave and the white ticket we had received upon entering the complex. Once that was approved, we then moved over in to the other line which was Immigration, where we would get our passports checked and hand in our Immigration Registration forms. The cost for leaving the country was nominal - $2.00 per person.

Upon leaving there, we then drove to a free standing small blue building where we handed the man our white square ticket. What that ticket was, I don’t have a clue. I just know it was a critical piece of paper that was making the rounds. I also should say at this point that I was so focused on our procedures that I didn’t think to take any pictures…sorry…I wish you could have seen all the lines we had to stand in!

After that, we then had to drive down to another building where we had to pay $4.00 to drive through a spray to get our car fumigated before we could cross over in to Costa Rica. Once that was done, we then drove on a bit further and were actually in Costa Rica…although we still weren’t through with all the rigamaroll. I guess we were more in a no-man’s land than anywhere definite.

We parked the car in front of a large building where there was again, lots of activity. There were quite a few people going in and out of the building and a handful of moneychangers, all trying to get someone to change their currency, whether Nicaraguan cordobas or American dollars, in to Costa Rican colones. We went inside to the Immigration office, filled out our registration forms for Costa Rica and then got in yet another line. At that window, we handed them our forms and our passports to be stamped for entry.

We had to go back outside to change money so that we could buy the mandatory insurance to drive in C.R. We just had $20 changed but it seemed like we were filthy rich. In Nicaragua, the exchange rate is 19.8 cordobas to the dollar; in Costa Rica, it was 552 colones to the dollar. So, we walked away with our pockets stuffed with 11, 040 colones!!! But, easy come, easy go. The insurance for Jim to drive cost us 7,890 colones...or a little over $14. We had to then get copies of Jim’s license, the circulation card and his passport for our next stop.

Across the street, in a small building, was the customs office. Here we had to fill out another form regarding our car. It was then turned in with the copies we had just made along with our Permit to Leave. A man came and checked the back of our car, saw we had just one small suitcase and didn’t even bother to have us open it. He just waved us on.

We then drove up to the next building which was set back off the road a bit. Here we had to get in another line to get a print out which basically allowed us to enter Costa Rica. This place had quite a long line but tourists are given priority over the truck drivers. As a result, we were actually able to get in fairly quickly. Those poor truckers…I would imagine they don’t look too favorably upon others who are crossing the border just because of the preferential treatment. Jim had to show his passport, the circulation card, the form he had filled out at the customs office, the insurance receipt and the vehicle inspection approval paper. We were then given a print out which Jim had to sign.

Leaving there, we made our final stop at the border, a small yellow and green building where we relinquished our vehicle inspection form. And then, we were on our way. The process took about two hours and that was with constant forward motion and not huge lines at any one place. I think we all breathed a sigh of relief when we finally completed the last step. Then we began driving to Liberia, which is the first town of any size going in to Costa Rica. It’s about an hour’s drive south of the border. We were stopped several times at checkpoints to verify our paperwork and to have our passports checked but I have to say the Costa Rican police were very kind and cordial. A totally different attitude than is exhibited by the law enforcement here.

There were several things which immediately struck me about Costa Rica. First of all, it’s a beautiful country…but that didn’t surprise me as I had heard that many times before. What was very noticeable was how green it was. Now this is no exaggeration…the Nicaraguan side of the border was brown and dry…but we’re in the dry season and I expected that. But literally, just on the other side of the border, it’s green and beautiful. It was just weird. And there’s just a different attitude there…it’s lighter and more open, not nearly as oppressive. Then there’s the fact that there’s no trash laying around along the roads in Costa Rica. It’s clean. The “shacks” are wooden and nicer than the zinc and plastic shacks you find here. It’s just cleaner. In Liberia, there aren’t the crowds of street vendors who mob you at the stoplight like here and there seems to be more of a sense of order just in the daily life. Not quite so chaotic.

We really enjoyed our short visit…although it was only for a quick lunch at Burger King (of all places!) in Liberia. We ran in to the grocery store across the street so Roger could pick up a treat for his kids (couldn't believe how clean and attractive it was) and after a quick tour around a part of the town, we headed back to the border to come back to Nicaragua. As we entered the border area, I couldn’t believe all the semi trucks lined up waiting to get across. It’s easy to forget that the little two lane road is the Pan American Highway, the main north-south thoroughfare which travels from Mexico all the way to South America.

Although there were a few steps that were a bit different, for the most part, we just had to do the above steps in reverse. And once again, it was about a 2 hour process. The fee was a bit higher to enter the country vs. leaving it…$7.00 per person. We dropped Roger off at his home and then headed back to Managua. It had been another really long day, but regardless, we were thankful that we didn’t have to stay the required 72 hours out of country. It’s funny. We haven’t felt like we’ve really had a home for some time now but it sure felt good to pull in to our driveway that night.

I have thought a lot about our day’s visit to Costa Rica. It’s the vacation mecca of Latin America. Folks from the U.S.A. love it…and why wouldn’t they? It’s a tropical paradise, with rain forests, clear water and lovely beaches. The stores are clean and modern. It’s eco-friendly, it’s beautiful and it caters to the required pampering that we often consider essential. The people are warm and welcoming. The pace is easy and relaxed. What’s not to love? And someday, I might like to go back to spend some vacation time there. But not for awhile. For now, I’m content to be home…and right now, home is here.