Highs and lows...

This has been a month of highs and lows. I suppose that statement alone should tell me that indicates I’ve probably not done a very good job of keeping my eyes on the Lord, huh? When I fail to allow the Holy Spirit to be in control of my emotions and actions, I know I can easily react to my circumstances instead of responding to them which allows a potential high to sometimes become a low. I wish I could say that even so, my reactions were always godly…honestly, they’re not.

Low…We fly back to the states 7 weeks from today…the mirror, along with other obvious signs, tells me I’m not ready. I worked very hard for 9 months to lose weight in order to meet the IMB’s standards but when Jim and I knew that we were to come here instead of Budapest, well, my work quit. Why, oh, why did I ever think that it wouldn’t take hard work to keep the weight off? I love the food here and it loves me! Without a doubt, it’s a carb-lover’s paradise. Add that to the fact that I'm an emotional eater and this has been a year of tremendous emotions...the weight gain is no surprise. There is no doubt I've reacted instead of responded.

In order for me to lose weight and to maintain that weight loss, I need daily exercise and a much higher ratio of protein and fresh veggies to carbs…not happening. I can use the excuses of we don't feel comfortable walking in our neighborhood without dogs, and the cost of protein and the work of getting fresh veggies safe to eat for us is just too much…but excuses they are, although each excuse is nicely draped in a thin coat of reality. I love our local bakery, I love tejadas and gallo pinto – especially with crema acida drizzled over the top. I love the way they fix the rice here…fry it first and then boil it – so good! I love their chicken – of course, it’s fried.

Why is it that the women here can eat the same diet and be so stinkin’ skinny? Oh, yeah…I remember. They scrub their clothes on a pila…I throw mine in the washer. They sweep their dirt floors, I have Margarita mop my tile ones. They walk 5 kilometers to the market every day, I walk out to the car. They chase children from morning until night…I chase dreams. They walk to the river to haul a filled 5 gallon bucket home on their head, I ask Jim to go turn on the pump to the water tank. They chase a chicken in order to butcher it, I pull one already butchered out of the fridge. They stand and stir their beans over an open fire, I throw a package of popcorn in the microwave ‘cause it’s too hot to cook. They carry an armload of firewood home after cutting it down with a machete, I turn on my gas stove. They make another trip to the river to bathe, I walk to the bathroom to shower. They entertain themselves by walking arm and arm to the pulperia to buy some masa to make their tortillas, I plop down in front of the television, wasted by the heat. Yeah, I remember why. Low.

High. We had a great week with the kids at school this past week. Every single class on both days went well and the kids were so much fun. They were all in good spirits for the most part and were very interactive. We had good conversations broken by bouts of laughter and teasing. We took lots of pictures of the kids with most of them assuming their favorite poses and their favorite expressions. We played games and struggled to learn the parts of the face and pronouns, adjectives and articles…the games were much more popular. We gave a ton of hugs and received at least that many back. I even got several gifts…one of the girls brought me a much-prized mango from the tree in her yard while one of the fifth-grade boys who lives in the orphanage, gave me a drawing that he made of the guardabarranco, the national bird of Nicaragua. I had someone tell me that we were making a difference at the school…such sorely needed words to hear at the time. We told some of the kids we would be returning to the States in June for a month and they groaned. High.

Low. As great as this past week was, I have to say it followed a couple of very difficult weeks at school. My frustration level with the sixth grade had peaked and I actually left the class early one day, totally exasperated and in tears, wondering how in the world I was ever going to reach those kids. There were 19 children, ages 11-17, in that class who absolutely refused to listen or to obey. Even with Jim trying to settle the kids down, it was a nightmare…the class was crazy. And Luis, the 6th grade teacher, was nowhere in sight. At that moment, I think I might have had a shred of understanding of how Captain Bligh of the 1789 British ship, the Bounty, must have felt when he realized mutiny had broken out…but I doubt if he cried. I did.

One of the students had been blatant in his show of disrespect for me and for the fact he was in a classroom. His behavior was the pits and of course, he fueled the others. He is a hard kid and yet, can be so personable. He’s one of those kids you can’t help but love but there are times that love does not come naturally due to his actions and attitude. There is no doubt, he’s a ringleader and his ambition in life is to cheat, charm and connive his way through it…anything other than putting in work and effort. Why has God planted that boy so firmly in my heart? And why has He made it so difficult to love him?

Although Douglas has challenged me in the past, for whatever reason, that day, he decided to go way past what was acceptable. I asked Jim to take him to the office. Jim was only able to get him outside and Douglas refused to go any further. Instead of things calming down in the classroom, they escalated. I had had enough. I was hot, tired and through. It was time to leave because I knew I was going to start crying. I gathered my things, told the children the class was over and I walked out. I don’t know if all of them were even aware I had left.

When I came out, carrying my school bag and purse, Douglas realized I was leaving. Even though I had my sunglasses on, he could tell I was crying. That was a bit mortifying, believe me. (It gets worse…) Douglas kept calling my name and trying to get me to stop. I finally stopped, turned to him and asked him what it was he wanted. His face was dead serious and his eyes soft and he simply said, “Disculpe. Lo Siento.” “Forgive me. I’m sorry.” My reply, “Mi tambien, Douglas.” “Me, too, Douglas.” And I walked to the car.

Jim went to the office to turn in our keys for the day. It was earlier than the time we normally do that. Jim found Luis sitting with Pastora, the director of the school, and told him that his class was “very bad”. Evidently, Jim’s tone and face made up for his lack of communication skills in Spanish. Luis immediately returned to his class and Pastora made a bee-line over to the car. I expected her to be upset that I was leaving early. Instead, she gave me a hug and began to apologize. Of course, that only made me cry all the harder. I hate sympathy when I’m trying to suck it up. I kept sniffing and told her it was okay and that I was just tired and needed to go home. She just kept talking, rubbing my arm and telling me that she was so sorry. As I looked back up at her, I realized there stood Luis and the entire 6th grade class. They had all walked silently to the car and Luis apologized for his class. The children stood and stared in silence. There. The moment of complete mortification finally had occurred. They must have been curiously drawn to the wacky gringa’s breakdown like we are when we slow down to gawk at an accident. Morbid sites…morbid fascination. I had reacted to the situation instead of responding. Yuk.

We left and Jim was furious. I was sick. I have to say I wasn’t angry but I was absolutely devastated. I kept wondering why I couldn’t seem to have a breakthrough with these kids. I have tried everything to get them to cooperate and at least try to learn English. But they don’t have any interest and they don’t care so they refuse to put out any effort. I felt like I was a train wreck and my efforts in trying to teach these kids were totally wasted. I was sure they not only hated English class, but they hated me. And I cried all the way home while Jim fumed and fussed at their insolence and lack of manners. It was a long ride from Los Cedros that night.

That was on a Tuesday. Thursday, I dreaded going to school. I had been reading my Bible and searching for answers. All I heard from God was, “Learn from Paul.” I was reminded that Paul had to deal with a bit more than hurt feelings and pummeled pride. I wondered how many times he must have thought to himself, “This just isn’t worth it”… I would wager the answer to that would be none. Back to school I went. I would have preferred to stay home and lick my wounds…it wasn’t an option. Low.

High. That morning, Pastora told me that I would only have my first class of the morning as the school was holding its elections for school president during my second and third classes. There were to be speeches, campaign promises and finally the voting. School was then going to be dismissed at lunchtime for the Semana Santa (Holy Week) holiday. I silently thanked God for the reprieve of having to deal with the 6th grade class. Woo-hoo!!

The elections were a hoot! The speeches were brief and to the point. Washington wanna-bes could learn a thing or two from these kids. Children cheered and spirits were high. Campaign posters were everywhere. The voting procedure was simple but a bit delayed as it was taking a lot more time to copy the ballots for all the children. No worry about confusing names of the candidates here…there were picture ballots so that votes could be cast with confidence…if not in confidence. The voting “booth” was the outer office of Pastora which always seemed to have a lot of kids coming and going. There was such an air of festivity about the morning. Jim even received a very quiet one word apology in passing from Douglas that morning…nothing else said, but that was enough. High.

Low. Another “house” is being constructed behind us…right behind us. Immediately, Jim and I both felt apprehension at the thought of folks being so close. And then we felt guilty for feeling that way. We are still trying to get accustomed to the other family who lives out back.
One of the reasons we rented this house was the fact it was open behind us which afforded us some quiet and a respite from our daily “noise” in the city of Managua. Now, it’s more than a sense of quiet that we no longer have, our privacy is also compromised. When someone is standing next to this new construction, they can see right in to our bedroom door that opens on to the deck. Keeping it closed is not an option as the heat would be unbearable in that room without the ventilation of the open door. Our fishbowl has become a little smaller. I knew I was starting to like this house too much. And as if to add insult to injury, we found our new guard asleep. Not a lot of security with a snoozer. Not a lot of sleep without security. Low.

High. We met the new neighbor last night. He seems like a very nice man and I know he’s a hard worker. He begins work on the house between 5:30 and 6:00 in the morning and goes until around 5:00 or so, working very hard on his construction, leveling the ground, moving stone, erecting his posts (made of trees), etc…all by hand. No equipment here.

I think I scared him half to death when I spoke to him. We were standing on our deck when he returned to his place by bicycle. I asked him if that was his house and he nodded yes, but very hesitantly. I don’t know if he expected me to say something about the house being right on the other side of our wall or what but he was very apprehensive in his manner with us. After we introduced ourselves, he eased up a bit and told us his name. He said he has two children and he was very pleasant. We felt good about our few minutes with him. So, right now, it’s okay. High.

Low. Elizabeth and Miguel are having serious marital problems. This has been going on for some time but they are now separated. I spent six hours this week counseling with Miguel. This is not a culture that seeks help for marriages. A man’s pride, image and standing among his friends is everything. Many Christians here don’t think that God’s Word really is speaking to them directly about their situation…their life is the exception…just like so many Christians in the States. I think it’s interesting how political and geographical borders don’t change man’s nature. So different and yet, exactly the same.

We are going to Tipitapa on Monday and I’m hoping to be able to visit with Elizabeth a bit. She’s not a believer so I don’t expect to get very far with her. This couple is special to us and we have built a very good relationship with Miguel. Their separation is painful for all of us. If you are a person who is a follower of Jesus Christ, please join us in praying for Miguel and Elizabeth, that their marriage would be restored and that God would receive all the glory for it. This situation is weighing heavy on both Jim and me. Low.

High. Another missionary couple is returning to the States…no, that’s not my high. But their moving sale certainly was fun! Judy is one of the first people I met when we moved here last year…she’s a very sweet individual. They are actually returning to their home in Springfield, Missouri! Talk about a small world. They live about 30 minutes away from us but we decided to go to their sale to say good-bye and to see if there was anything we just couldn’t live without. Susanna decided to go with us so we headed out around 8:30, with the sale supposed to begin at 9:00. Ha! It was packed! Better than the bargains I found was running into a friend I had met last October. We didn’t have much time to catch up but it was so good to see her and visit for the few minutes we had. It made my day!

A sale like that brings out the gringos, believe me. Everyone wants “American” items and the best place to find things like that is at an American’s sale! There’s no such thing as garage sales here…no garages, nothing to sell, no money to spend…what’s the point? But an American missionary returning home means that they will have a house full of stuff to unload. Usually, it’s at ridiculously high prices but today, Judy’s things were really reasonable. A sign of “we’re leaving and I need to get rid of all this stuff”.

My bargains for the day came to a grand total of $16…I found a small framed floral picture for

$2 which will look “divine” in our bathroom, another larger frame which holds three photos, another $2, two clotheslines which are on a reel and as of this evening, are installed in our basement, another $2, a Scrabble game in Spanish – only missing the racks (our Rummi-kub racks will work), 50 cents, a bag with three big rolls of curly ribbon (not available here), $3, several different configurations of Velcro, $1, a large roll of double stick tape, $1, 13 small plastic webbed baskets to use to organize things on the school supply shelves, $2.50, a plastic container w/lid that had bits and pieces of things, such as a drill bit, Goo-Gone (my reason for buying it), a screwdriver, key rings, chip clips, a scoop, etc., $2. I shared the items I didn’t need with Margarita. She was happy. I was happy. Judy had a bit more money in her pocket. Blessings were abounding. High.

Lots of reactions instead of responses. Highs and lows. That’s the ebb and flow of life, I suppose. And I guess what makes the lows bearable is knowing that there is a High…the best High, the most High God. I just remembered something…in the inimitable words of Bible teacher, Beth Moore who said something along the lines of…”There ain’t no high like the Most High!” Amen.