God's perfect timing...

Timing. “What perfect timing!”, “Is the timing right?”, “My timing was off…”, “good timing”, “the art of timing…”, “not the best timing…”, “a sense of timing”. We abound with catch-phrases about timing. We’re a bit time-obsessed ourselves right now. We fly back to family, friends, FBC, air-conditioning, water-on-demand and Sonic Diet Cokes with LOTS of crushed ice in 10 days! Are we ready???? You bet!!!

We can’t get there fast enough to see our family, including the newest member who just couldn’t wait for our arrival to make his own…our sweet, precious little (6 lbs 4 oz, 20” long), Nathaniel Jack who was born Monday, May 25th at 5:26 p.m. Of course, we’ve seen pictures of him (he looks so much like Jeremiah did when he was born) and we were thrilled to get them. E-mail has been a wonderful blessing for us this year!

But as great as those pics are, nothing can replace the unique and spell-binding moment for this Grandma of holding the most magnificent miracle of new life wrapped in velvet flesh for the very first time. There is something that occurs and touches me like nothing else I’ve experienced in life when I get to caress, hold close and stare deep in to slate-blue eyes of a minutes-old grandbaby. Maybe it’s looking at a blank page future…maybe it’s the curiosity of looking at life so new there is not yet a past, maybe it’s the awesome beholding at the revealing of God’s latest, most-treasured creation. I think that must be what it is…a moment so precious, so rare and so intimate, a moment reserved only for a Grandma full of fiercely strong “Grandma-love” to be shared with and showered upon a long-awaited grandchild full of secrets yet to be shared.

I love my grandchildren more than I can express and I have been privileged enough to have been there for the births of each and every one of them. Every experience unique in its own right and yet every experience tied together with the common thread of that moment of magic when I first met my newest heart-throb whose life was still being measured in minutes. I have missed that with Nathaniel and on Monday, my heart broke over that. Still, I refuse to allow that to diminish the joy of this special grandbaby. And I refuse to be robbed of that special moment that God has gifted specifically to Grandmas like me.

Just because the logistics of geography, little Nate’s creative calendar and the “bad-timing” of airline tickets with a June departure date have delayed our “love-at-first-sight” moment, in no way do I think that won’t happen. Instead, the anticipation grows knowing that Nate and I have a lot to catch up on when we finally get to share our long-awaited alone-time…when we can have our Ear Time.

Unless you’re a Grandma who is absolutely silly over every single grandbaby, you might not know Ear Time. In my case, it’s going to be when this Grandma finally gets to whisper the first of a life-time of her praises reserved only for Nathaniel’s tiny, sweet ears and little Nate blinks back the promise of his someday-secrets saved for only Grandma’s ears. Magic moments so rich that Kodak could only dream of capturing them…God-blessed, God-created moments. I can hardly bear the wait until I get to meet my precious little Nate. I know it will happen just as his birth did…in God’s perfect timing.

Just another day in paradise...

Had to share this with you but will also caution you that the subject matter isn’t the most delicate of topics…bird poop and nose whoofing! I know you must be thinking that “this place” has sucked all the dignity right out of me…truth is, I’ve never been long on dignity although I strongly believe in it for others and will defend with great ferocity their right to maintain it. Actually, I think “this place” has just made me, more me. Hence this blog about bird poop and nose whoofing.

Some of you have wanted to know what we do on days we’re not out at the school or with Miguel…those days are usually filled with other things. Today it was laundry. It’s the first day I’ve had to do laundry since last Monday. That doesn’t sound like a big deal but imagine damp, sweaty clothes sitting in a laundry basket for 5 days…believe me, they’re not pleasant.

Thankfully, the mildew problem hasn’t started yet as the rains we’ve had have just been sporadic to date. And even though it’s humid right now, it’s going to get a lot worse. It won’t be long though before we’ll be battling more than just sour-smelling dirty clothes…we’ll be fighting mold on them, as well. Damp Rid is the best thing we’ve managed to find here and it actually does a pretty good job of keeping the mildew problem in the closets to a minimum.

Anyway, today was laundry day. My washer isn’t one of the great big ones so I often have to divide loads in to more manageable sizes. Pixie got on our bed this morning so in addition to the rest of the laundry, I had to wash the “clean” sheets I had just put on yesterday. That made two sets of sheets plus the other loads. A full day’s worth of laundry when the water is just dribbling in…

I knew the two loads I had already put out on the line ought to be about dry and was planning on going out to get them in a bit when Jim told me that I would have to rewash one of the sheets. It seems a bird evidently thought it would be great fun to try to hit a moving target like the sheet blowing on the line and scored a nasty, messy bulls-eye! Yuk!!!

Jim went out with me to bring the loads in. The sun was a scorcher and all breezes had seemed to stop. It wasn’t just hot, it was really hot. I looked at the sheet and saw that the bird must have chosen that particular opportunity in time to evacuate every single thing from his little bird intestines (do they even have intestines???) in one fell swoop. It was a terrible mess.

I began looking for a stick to scrape off the majority of the bird poop, which had seemed to bake on to the sheet. Because it was so hot, I wasn’t exactly doing that at a leisurely pace. I could feel the back of my neck getting damp as I was pacing back and forth under the row of platano trees frantically looking for a stick. Not only was I hot and beginning to sweat, I was irritated I was going to have to rewash a freshly washed sheet that I had just put on the bed the day before using the precious reserve of water we had in the tank. There was not a stick to be found! Our gardener Freddy, who is very good at his job, had left our yard stick-free.

I finally settled on a small rock I saw between a platano tree and the wall. I hated going by the wall as I am always afraid I’ll find a scorpion or tarantula lurking there…I never have but for some reason, it just looks like a place they would like to hang out. The rock wasn’t huge but I figured it would be big enough to scrape off the offending glob on my otherwise clean sheet. Just as I got ready to do the scraping, with lots of verbal expressions of disgust, a slight breeze came up, flapping the sheet towards me. I stepped back, down in to a small hole in our yard and gasping a bit, the next thing I knew, a bug had flown up my nose! There I stood, trying to whoof out the invading insect from my nose as ladylike as possible while trying to avoid the uncontrolled bird poop flapping dangerously close to my person and keep from tripping myself as I tried to get back up on level ground!

Note: I'm not sure how to define "nose whoofing" other than it's rapidly exhaling through the nose with little short forceful bursts...short of blowing one's nose...it's my own word to the best of my knowledge, so I suppose I can define it as I experience it. It's not one of my favorite things to do but will resort to it when a bug chooses to violate my nasal spaces.

Did I get any assistance from my beloved husband? Are you kidding me? He was too busy laughing at the whole situation. Not smiling, not chuckling but laughing! And I suppose it was funny as long as it wasn’t your own nasal passages being assaulted by an unidentified little winged trespasser and you weren’t the one in danger of coming in contact with a giant glob of bird poop!

I finally got the sheet off the line, carried it over and unceremoniously dumped it in to the pila, grabbed a corner of the sheet and blew my nose, as the whoofing technique obviously wasn't working. No bug. Okay…now I had more things to worry about than rewashing a bird-poopy sheet. I had an MIA bug somewhere in the corridors of my anatomy! More whoofing, more nose blowing…nada. Where could it have gone? It couldn’t have been inhaled all the way to my lungs, could it? I gave a tentative cough, just in case. Nothing. Jim was no help…he was still out in the hot sun, laughing. In order to preserve our marriage, I’m going to attribute his lack of concern and compassion to a mild heat stroke.

I never did see or feel the bug exiting of its own volition or with my help. But in order to maintain some peace of mind, I chose to believe that perhaps, it had been expelled without my knowledge...or was laying dead somewhere in an interior body crevice. That wasn't a pleasant thought so I decided to focus on the first line of thinking.

I guess that’s an example of what a day is like for us when we’re not teaching at Los Cedros or tutoring Miguel. Nothing special but never uneventful. And just so you know…I washed the sheet again – twice. It is now hung up in the basement, drying. It also bears a faint stain from the bird. Whatever he had eaten prior to his little bombing expedition is probably being used in permanent markers.

There still has yet to be any sign of the bug. Periodically, throughout the day, I would whoof as discreetly as possible, hoping to escort it out of my person with a gentle blow…just in case it was perched on the precipice of a sinus cavity. Tonight, I’m continuing to believe that it flew out as quickly as it flew in. And as for Jim, he’s managed to make a remarkable recovery from his mini episode of mania today and he can almost manage to look at me without bursting into fits of uncontrollable laughter again. So that’s it…just another day in paradise.

Celebrating Elizabeth's birthday...

It’s hard for me to believe it’s Saturday already. I don’t know where the week has gone. Last Monday, we had Miguel and Elizabeth spend the day with us. They took the bus from Tipitapa to the church where Miguel works here in Managua and Jim met them there with the car to bring them on to our house. It was Elizabeth’s 23rd birthday. Birthdays should be fun when you’re that age but for Elizabeth, every holiday is a reminder that she is without her mother, who died 12 years ago. Elizabeth has never moved on from intense grieving and it has a stranglehold on her. In so many ways, she has remained very childlike.

Birthdays here are a big deal for children as the mortality rate for little ones is high. Once the kids are older, the day is recognized but the poorer people just don’t have the means to do much in the way of celebrating. We wanted to make Elizabeth’s day special plus having she and Miguel visit we hoped would give us an opportunity to speak some to them about marriage and communication. They are presently doing much better but we want them to realize that marriage takes full blown commitment and lots of work from both parties.

When they arrived at the house, I was busy in the kitchen finishing up lunch preparations. Jim and Miguel were talking out on the carport and Elizabeth wouldn’t come in to the house without being invited. I decided lunch could be a little bit later and went out to get her. We did the usual greeting of a kiss on the cheek and an embrace but then I got an extra hug that was a bit tighter and a bit longer. She whispered “Gracias” in my ear. I introduced her to Freddy as one of my friends. They spoke the typical greeting to one another. I smiled at Elizabeth and patted her arm which she promptly linked through mine and that’s how we “toured” the house, arm in arm. It’s a good thing she’s as skinny as she is ‘cause if she were a normal sized person, we would never have made it through the doorways, side by side.

Miguel and Elizabeth were so fun to watch as we entered each room. They are both so expressive – Miguel with his face and Elizabeth with her eyes. Miguel’s voice would get louder with each new “discovery” and Elizabeth’s voice would soften with wonder. They acted as though this was the nicest place they had ever been. Later I wondered if perhaps that were true and it made me see my own house with eyes that were colored with a new sense of appreciation.

After the short grand tour, with lots of oohing and aahing over our view (which is one of my favorite parts of this house), Miguel spied our giant Spanish-English dictionary, parked himself in one of the rockers in the front room and lost himself in the wonder of words. Elizabeth didn’t know quite what to do with herself as she was totally unfamiliar with working in an American-style kitchen. I decided it would be a good time to go ahead and give her presents to her.

As I handed her the gift bags, her expression was priceless! She was stunned that she would have gifts from us and that there would be so many. There weren’t that many and they certainly weren’t expensive, but it was more than she had ever had for a birthday before. Again, something I have pondered many times since…how little most of the world has and how much we just assume is expected. We have come from the Land of Excess to live in the Land of Need and the awareness of the disparity between the two continues to grow.

Again, lunch was delayed as I didn’t want to miss watching Elizabeth open her gifts. Even Miguel’s curiosity got the best of him and he came in to the living room to hover right over Elizabeth’s shoulder, not wanting to miss out on a single thing, touching every single package with her as she opened them, teasing her that the gifts were really his. Later, realizing they were all “girly” gifts, he decided she could keep them for herself!

Elizabeth’s hands were shaking as she tried to figure out how to untie the ribbons I had tied around her package wrapped in tissue paper. I got her a pair of scissors and she asked if it was okay to cut the ribbon. I told her it was and that it was okay to tear the paper. She wasn’t quite so sure about that and carefully tried to pull the tape away from the paper. Finally, she unwrapped a bronze-colored handbag…which I must say, I just loved and would have been tempted to get one just like it for myself! Luckily for our budget, the store had only one! From the look on Elizabeth’s face, she liked the purse as much as I did! And although by American standards, the purse was far from expensive, costing less than $13.00, that was more than ½ a weeks’ pay for Miguel…so it was something she would never have dreamt of having for herself.

The truth is many women here don’t carry a purse for one of two reasons – either they’re afraid someone will steal it or they don’t have anything to put in it. Knowing that Elizabeth rarely comes in to Managua, I chose to go ahead and take the chance of getting her the purse and also bought just a few little things for her to put inside…a brush, decorative hair pins, a small mirror, etc.…purse-type things. She slowly and carefully examined each item, running her fingers over the shapes. I was mesmerized watching her. It was as though she was trying to commit to memory every single item.

Her next gift was a turquoise pull-over top. I had guessed at the size by just looking at it and thankfully, it was perfect. She was thrilled. Miguel said he had given her a skirt which they had stopped to buy at the Oriental Market on the way to meet Jim. Miguel said the top would match perfectly. Later, she changed in to both…I don’t necessarily agree about the matching thing so much, but I was happy she was happy. And she looked beautiful in both the skirt and the top.

Her next package held 4 little scented candles in the sweetest little white bowls. I had found these at one of my favorite stores at the mall and was thrilled they weren’t expensive. Again, I loved watching Elizabeth’s face as she sniffed the candles and examined each one of the little bowls…all identical but that was irrelevant…there were four little candles and each was considered a gift worthy of inspection. Again, another gift I really liked and wouldn’t have minded seeing perched on my own hall table. I know my girls know exactly what I’m talking about here…I usually tend to give gifts to my friends and family that I like myself and so actually parting with them can sometimes be an act of the will! With Elizabeth, it wasn’t much of a struggle.

Her last gift may seem strange to you and though it was more of a serviceable gift in our eyes, it was also was a bit of luxury to Elizabeth. I filled a small plastic tub with personal care items just for her, like sweet scented soap, a fluffy white net scrubbie puff, a soap dish, a pretty pink hand towel, a tube of lightly scented hand cream, a glass nail file, a cute box of tissues and a tiny little package of Hershey’s Kisses I found at the grocery store. She was ecstatic! It was such a fun time.

Finally, I was able to get lunch served. Knowing that beef is a real rarity for them as it is so costly, and after much thought, I fixed some medallions of beef in the pressure cooker with potatoes, onions and carrots. Miguel had asked for an American meal when we first talked of having them come for lunch one day. In one of our recent conversations, he mentioned that Elizabeth didn’t know how to use a dinner knife at Kenet’s birthday party and that she was embarrassed we might have noticed that he had to cut her meat up for her. We didn't as there was so much activity going on that kept our attention elsewhere. When I asked why Elizabeth wouldn’t know how to use a knife, he told me that knives are used only by “people of position” and that many of the poor don’t have them as they are not necessary for beans and rice.

That made sense so although I wanted to fix beef for them, I wanted to fix something that would be so tender that a knife wouldn’t be necessary. I was glad that Miguel had shared that with me as it helped me decide what to fix for lunch. Enter the use of my invaluable pressure cooker! It works magic on the tough cuts of beef here. Cooking that with the veggies, cream of mushroom soup, dried onion soup, some herbs, a few good shakes of Worcestershire sauce, a little beef base and some chopped up garlic, the pressure cooker makes culinary miracles happen and the meat comes out so tender it is easily cut with a fork.

I served the main dish with a great little braided cheese roll that the bakery near our home makes. The cheese flavor is so delicate in it that it is barely detectable and serves more so to make a nice tender roll. It is one of our favorite breads from there and each roll is large enough to make two servings so one package fed us all. Miguel and Elizabeth loved the bread but what was an even bigger hit was the tub of light Country Crock margarine that we had. Neither had ever had anything like that before and they loved it! Miguel thought it was one of the tastiest things he had ever had and kept telling me it was very “rich”. And I had bought it because it was familiar...

I had considered making potato salad but instead, decided upon a bit more economical carrot, raisin and apple salad. I say that but upon reflection, the only cheap ingredients in that salad were the carrots! Apples are over $1 each and the raisins were almost $3…but they were well worth the money considering how much Miguel liked it. Elizabeth ate all the apples out of her salad and asked for a second helping of only the apples. Thank goodness, Jim and I like the salad as we’ve eaten on it all week and finally finished it up last night.

One more thing I want to share re: the salad…when I was packing up the leftovers for them to take home with them (which I had planned quite a bit extra with that in mind), I asked Miguel if his mother had a small refrigerator in her house. He told me no and wanted to know why. When I told him that the carrot salad had mayo in it and that it would need to be refrigerated, he said that he would take it anyway. I told him he could get really sick off of it because of the heat turning the mayo “bad”. He told me he would eat it all that night and promised he wouldn’t get sick. It was with great trepidation that I sent some home with them. Great news...no one died from my carrot salad. Good news...no one even got sick.

For dessert, I decided to make my Grandma Mann’s wonderful banana bread plus a couple of loaves of mango bread, using a recipe I learned last year. Both are excellent. It doesn’t hurt that right now, the mangoes are in season and are unbelievably sweet and juicy. As a matter of fact, I used the fresh mangoes that Miguel and Kenet had picked for me the week before. I had contemplated fixing a regular birthday cake for Elizabeth, but they are not fond of how sweet our sweets are so I opted for the quick breads. Both were a great hit and later, I sent home the other uncut loaf of mango bread with them.

When we actually sat down to lunch, I noticed that Elizabeth looked at how the table was set. We don’t have china but we do have plastic dishes we use for most of our meals and then a nice set of regular dishes we use with company…unless you’re Tom, Nora or Jackie and then you get served on the plastic dishes, as well! Only people here with some money have tables and chairs. Most meals are eaten off mismatched dishes held on laps while sitting in plastic chairs or on rough hewn wooden benches. A table set with a tablecloth, dishes and silverware must have seemed intimidating to her.

Miguel spoke right up and said he wanted to watch us so he would know how he was to eat his food. I asked if he wanted to serve himself or if he wanted me to fill the plates. He asked if I would do it. So, we fixed plates and began, with Elizabeth and Miguel mimicking our initial moves, tasting each new food with some trepidation. I laughed and told Miguel he didn’t need to be scared that it wasn’t like I was serving him pelibuey for the first time! He laughed and said he now understood how I must have felt, not knowing how the flavor was going to be. I think they were nervous to try our food and I was nervous they wouldn’t like it. With Miguel, it wasn’t a problem. He ate second and third helpings of everything. With Elizabeth, I wasn’t sure as she ate very little and was very quiet. I found out today from Miguel that she was afraid she would make a mistake and that when they got home, she ate the leftovers non-stop! So, I guess the lunch was a success.

Afterwards, Jim and I cleaned up the table and I washed the dishes while he dried. We sent Miguel and Elizabeth out on the back deck to sit and relax. We could hear them talking and it wasn’t long their voices relaxed and we could hear laughter and teasing back and forth. A bit later, they moved out to the front porch where it was cooler. They sat in the rockers and dreamed the dreams all young married couples dream. It was encouraging to hear them speak of a future.

When we finished the kitchen duties, we took two more rockers out on the front porch and joined them. I don’t even know how but God directed our conversation toward the importance of having time to relax and enjoy the company of our spouses; of how important it is to be able to communicate ideas and opinions without the threat of being met negatively and how God created us to honor Him by honoring one another. Miguel was quick to agree. Elizabeth listened but without comment.

It was getting late and Jim and I had already decided we would drive the kids back to Tipitapa so they wouldn’t have to juggle their food and Elizabeth’s gifts on the bus. When we told them we would take them home, Miguel was speechless. He couldn’t believe we would drive them all the way back home. I told him that riding the bus once that day was all that was necessary since it was Elizabeth’s birthday. She smiled and gave me another hug.

Each time I glanced in the back seat as we made the hour’s drive to Tipitapa, I was encouraged to see Miguel and Elizabeth, relaxed and holding hands. It was the first time I had seen that show of affection since we first met them. When we finally arrived at Miguel’s mother’s house, we helped them carry their things to their little house out back. I spent a few minutes with Miguel’s mother but we didn’t stay as we wanted to get back to Managua before it got too dark.

Today, we surprised Miguel with a photo album we had put together of pictures we have taken over the last few months, including pictures of Elizabeth’s birthday. I told him that when he and Elizabeth were being short with one another, that I wanted him to look at those pictures of them laughing and smiling and to remember how good it felt to have that time together. I told him they needed to remember how special the other one is and to treat one another as such. He nodded very seriously.

He told us that he and Elizabeth had talked about how wonderful we had made her birthday and that she said it was a day she would never forget. He said she has looked at each one of her gifts over and over and that she used one of the little candles last night when the power went off. He said she loves using her “special soap” and that she ate almost all the mango bread by herself. He said that they both thought it was the best birthday celebration. I am so pleased they enjoyed their day here but I am waiting for the day that Elizabeth is born again…that’s the day even the angels will celebrate.

Yes, Lord...

Today’s our anniversary…we’ve been here for one year as of today. I thought I would feel a great sense of accomplishment when this day came. I don’t. I feel tired and unsure of so many things. Earlier tonight, Jim asked me what I felt about this first year. Bless his heart, he never should have asked. Actually, I feel so much more than I have words and you know me…I have a lot of words. That question has brought a lot of reflection and a flood of emotions to me this evening.

It’s been a good year and it’s been one of the most difficult years I’ve experienced. It’s been hard physically, emotionally and spiritually. It’s been frustrating and frightening. It’s been a year of unanswered questions, unrealized hopes, burst bubbles and raw realities. It’s been one of the longest and loneliest years I think I’ve ever lived through. But that being said, it’s not been without its moments of great joy and satisfaction, moments of immense privilege and moments of blessed assurance. Those have been brief. I suppose that’s to be expected as valleys are much broader than mountain tops.

There have been times we’ve both asked if we heard God correctly…maybe we should have gone to Budapest…maybe it would have been easier. I think probably, in many respects it would have. We wouldn’t have a lot of the concerns we have being “independent” missionaries but I don’t think that’s where God called us. I don’t think we would have learned in Budapest the things we’ve learned about ourselves here. They’ve not necessarily been pretty things but they have been necessary. We’re still learning.

Sometimes, I feel like I’m stumbling around in the dark with my ears plugged, my voice gone and my hands tied…and I’m scared. I want to see what’s ahead of me. I want to hear God’s voice, so clear, so loud and so God-marked that I have no doubts as to what He wants next from me. I want to cry out that I need someone to lead me by the hand in this missionary mine-field that I’ve stumbled upon.

The faith answer to that little tirade is trust God’s Truth, not my feelings. I don’t know if you have conversations with God in your head or not, but I do. His response to that last paragraph goes something like this…

“Are you really in the dark, Lynne?”

“No…but I feel like it sometimes.”

“Okay…but ARE you?”

“No.”

“And obviously, your ears aren’t plugged…you just heard Me, didn’t you? You hear Me speak to you through my Word, through your daily devotion, through your music, through others, in your head like now…you hear Me, Lynne. I know you do. Don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I hear you, too. You’ve not lost your voice.”

“Okay…it’s just that…well, it’s just that I feel so uncertain about, well, about everything.”

“That’s okay. You only have to be certain of Me. I’ll take care of the rest. As far as your hands being tied…the only thing tying your hands are those invisible cords of fear you’ve wrapped around your own wrists. They’ll fall off when you start walking again with Me in faith, I promise. Don’t worry about keeping step with anyone else…walk with Me.”

“Okay.”

“You want to know what’s ahead of you? You already know…it’s spending eternity with Me. I won’t show you what you think is the future. You’re struggling with your present. But, I will tell you that what I want you to hear from Me, clearly, loudly and without a doubt that it’s direction straight from Me and that is that I want you to love Me with every fiber of your being and if you do that, the rest will be revealed to you as you need it.”

“Okay, I hear you.”

“As far as that whole stumbling in to a missionary mine-field thing? Since you started following Me, you haven’t stumbled anywhere that I haven’t caught you, have you?”

“No.”

“Well, why would I fail you now?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Okay then. Remember that. One more thing…you didn’t stumble in to this…I brought you here. That’s enough for you to know right now. I’ve given you the ability to see the big things in the little things…don’t quit looking. I’m here. I haven’t left. You’re not alone. I love you.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“There…that’s what I’ve been waiting to hear. Now go to bed. It’s late. Rest. Rest in me.”

“Yes, Lord. Thank you…for everything. I love you, too. Good night.”

Celebrating life...

Yesterday was Kenet’s 9th birthday party and what a celebration it was! Jim and I picked Miguel up at the church he works at in Managua at 2:00 and we all headed to Tipitapa. We went to Miguel’s house so he could change out of his work clothes and so we could pick up Elizabeth. Upon our arrival, we were pleasantly surprised to see Elizabeth’s Abuelita (“little grandmother”) sitting out back talking to Miguel’s mother. We received the usual hugs and kisses and then had a seat while we waited on Miguel to change.

It was noticeably quiet in the pelibuey pen. We knew that Mama Pelibuey had been butchered for the birthday dinner. It was sad as the baby pelibuey was out loose in the back yard and Elizabeth said she had been crying all day for her mama…it looked like Elizabeth had shed a few tears herself. The pelibueys were her pets but she said they couldn’t afford to feed both of them anymore. Knowing the facts behind the decision didn’t make it any easier.

Miguel’s mother had decided not to go to the party, which was being held at Kenet’s house. Evidently, she hadn’t been feeling well all day, saying her stomach was upset and she felt dizzy from her diabetes. No one seemed too terribly concerned so I’m guessing this isn’t the first time she’s complained of those symptoms. The rest of us got in the car and Miguel directed us to Kenet’s house.

The family lives in a poorer neighborhood. We walked around to the back of the house and I was surprised to see a fairly good-sized back yard. There was already a fair gathering of people and the trees had balloons and streamers tied around them. A piñata hung from a suspended wire just begging to be whacked. The music was loud and the smoke thick from the borrowed barbecue grill that was heating up in anticipation of searing some freshly butchered pelibuey. I didn’t get to see the “firing up” process of the grill but Jim did. He said that they were using wadded up pieces of plastic to get the little chunks of charcoal started. That’s got to be good and healthy…

As soon as Kenet saw us, he came over and gave us big hugs. We handed him his present, all neatly wrapped in a great big bag. When I had asked him awhile back what he would really like to have for his birthday, he said a remote control car. Everyone had told him they were very expensive so I don’t think he expected one. Jim and I managed to find one at a reasonable price and were so excited to know that we could give this little guy what he had hoped for. Of course, Jim had to test it out at our house to make sure it worked okay…or so he said. He tormented the big kitties with it and once he elicited arched backs and venomous hisses from the three of them, he was satisfied. I had to gently remind him the car wasn’t his to play with! Thankfully, he gave it up so that Kenet was able to have his present after all.

I know the RC car was the big gift but I also know that Kenet gets so bored just sitting around and his lack of endurance doesn’t allow him much opportunity to actually get out and play. I had asked him one day if he liked “rompecabezas” (puzzles) and he had said yes. So, I made him a book filled with dot-to-dots, mazes, color-by-numbers, word-finds (in Spanish) and some Hidden Picture pages out of the Highlights magazines. There were about 30 different puzzles. We also gave him a box of colored pencils, a little pencil case with pencils, a sharpener and a matching eraser. I had found a novelty eraser that looked like a little truck and also put in a package of stickers. Not big stuff but fun stuff.

Kenet took the bag and went to set it inside the house. We were ushered over to one of two tables set up and covered with tablecloths. The other table had Miguel's dad and some of his brothers...a patriarchal table. No one was sitting at our table...it had been reserved for us. Once again, without understanding why, we were the honored guests. That’s an uncomfortable position in which to be placed. We would have preferred to just be able to sit at the back of the crowd, but that wasn’t going to happen. After awhile, the stares weren’t quite so disconcerting and smiles were even returned.

The children were bored and restless and the smell of food cooking only made sitting still that much more torturous for the little ones. Eventually, a woman stood up and took a microphone that was hooked up to a couple of small speakers. A microphone wasn’t necessary in that small space, but I don’t think you could have pried it out of her hands. She is a member of the church that Kenet’s mother goes to. The woman basically began preaching. And she preached for a long time!

There were several songs sung and then Kenet’s mother spoke. It was so touching. She thanked God for preserving Kenet’s life and re-told the story of his illness and what the doctors said two months ago…that there really wasn’t much more they could do. She told how many people were praying for Kenet, all their friends and family and there were even people in the United States praying. She then thanked us for the help we have given them. She told that we had helped them with a stroller when Kenet was so weak he couldn’t walk, that we had helped them with food and money and that when the church could no longer afford to help them buy the Pediasure that Kenet is using as a nutritional supplement, that we stepped in and that it was just in time as they had no “milk” left. She said that we helped to buy the food for that party and that it was possible because of our help. She then asked us to stand up and be recognized...and we were met with applause. Unbelievable.

I can’t even begin to tell you how Jim and I felt at that moment. None of those things were big things to us. They were just needs that were brought before us and that we felt God wanted us to help with. We didn’t do it…folks like you who support us did that. It wasn’t our generosity, it was yours. We didn’t need to stand up…you do. And we applaud you. You are making a difference here, you really are. I wish you could feel the hugs yourselves, hear the words of appreciation and see the faces filled with gratitude. I wish you could see the sparkle of life in Kenet’s eyes again. Honestly, it is so humbling and so motivating. It makes us pray even more fervently that we not miss where it is God wants us to help next.

Back to the party…as if that speech weren’t enough, it was Kenet’s turn…of course, using the microphone! He had written his little speech and thanked everyone for coming and for their prayers and then again, thanked us. The speeches were touching…the hugs, priceless!

The pastor’s wife then prayed over Kenet and then it was the pastor’s turn to preach a while. After that, Miguel’s oldest daughter from his first marriage, Esther, sang a song. It vaguely addressed God but was much more of a secular pop song. The crowd seemed to enjoy it.

At long last, it was Piñata time!!!! The kids were so excited they could hardly stand still. Of course, Kenet got the first whacks but he quickly tired and had to sit down. Then the other children all took turns, repeatedly beating the blue bunny over and over again. I began to think they had the Energizer Bunny swinging from that pulley. Finally, the kids managed to whack it hard enough that they eventually beat it down almost to the ground. Once it burst open and the candy fell, it was a madhouse. We laughed and laughed at those kids scrambling for their sweet treats. Was it over? Nope…out came piñata #2 and the whole scenario was re-played. Finished? No…one more to go…there were 3 piñatas at this celebration! When I asked why so many piñatas, Elizabeth told me that it was such a special time…celebrating not just Kenet’s birthday but also his “strong life”. Those three piñatas were a great expense to the whole family but it was a visual expression of how grand a celebration this really was. I understood it really was a special time.

After the candy had all been snatched up, it was time for dinner. Eddy, a friend of Miguel’s and a young man we had met previously, was the official cook for the celebration. He had been cooking all day for the crowd of around fifty people. (We were introduced to each and every one of them!) Miguel and Elizabeth donated the pelibuey and we donated the rest of the food except the cake. There was grilled pelibuey, Arroz a la Valenciana (rice, chicken, hot dogs, ketchup, chilies, carrots, onion, garlic), tostones (shredded fried platano cakes), ensalada (shredded cabbage and tomatoes), salsa (tomatoes, garlic and onion) and of course, tortillas. Coca-cola was the beverage served.

Okay…I know you’re curious…you want to know how pelibuey tastes. It was actually pretty good. The first two bites I had I think were of one of the internal organs…don’t want to think about it. The taste was a bit strong and the texture reminded me of liver. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to finish it all but bite 3 and on, were good. The flavor and texture more like beef and although it was a bit tough, it was really pretty tasty. Miguel didn’t put ensalada on our plates as he knew we wouldn’t eat the untreated cabbage, but the thought never crossed his mind regarding the same for the tomatoes. As with all foods eaten at celebrations like that, Jim and I pray that God will protect us from any adverse reactions and so far, that’s been the case. We really tested Him this time as our sodas had ice made from city water…it will be awhile before we see if He covered us on that one or not. If not, we figure there’s medicine for things like that and it’s just part of living here.

It was then time for the cutting of the cake. The wind had come up a bit so the children all made a circle around the cake so that the candles would stay lit. The next battle was trying to keep the children from blowing out the candles before Kenet could! Finally, it all went as it should and the children were lined up ready for their cake. One little guy just couldn’t wait for the actual cutting and serving of it. Jim caught him with the camera pinching off a piece…the other adults weren’t so quick and he got a good little bit of it before he was ushered away.

Throughout the celebration, Kenet would come over to us periodically and just spontaneously give us hugs. At one point, I asked him if he had opened his present…I know that is something that typically is done after everyone has gone home. Of course, he shook his head “no”. I asked him if he wanted to go ahead and do it and he said that he did. I told him that it was fine with me and that I wanted him to go open his present. He raced in to the house and was gone for a bit. The next thing I knew, I was just about knocked out of my chair as he threw his arms around my neck and squeezed so tight I wondered if I was taking my last breath. “Gracias, Gracias, Gracias!” he kept saying. His joy at receiving the unexpected was off the chart! I hugged him back, kissed his forehead and told him he was welcome. I asked him if it was the right thing. He assured me it was and that he was very, very happy. So was I. Seeing him run and play with excitement like any other kid (who might be wearing a face mask) was the best thanks of all. I’m telling you this child is so special to us and it was an absolute privilege to help make his birthday a day to remember.

It came time for us to go and after we said our good-byes to everyone, we were once again thanked by the family. His mother said they didn’t know what they would have done if we had not helped at the times we did. Although she was very grateful we helped with the food costs for the party, she was most appreciative for the Pediasure. I understand that. I can’t imagine the desperation she must have felt when the church told her they couldn’t afford to keep buying the Pediasure…and they really couldn’t. It’s very expensive by Nica-standards but that mom knows that her child’s life is worth every centavo. The medical system here is set up so that they can get free medical care but unless a doctor gives the medication themselves, then the people have to buy it. Most can’t.

She has had some hard days the last six months. Her faith has wavered, the questions have mounted, the money has run out, the family has been hungry and Kenet was given a death sentence. What we have told Miguel repeatedly and what we had him pass on to his sister is that God is faithful in all things and that He is sovereign. His mercies are new every morning. Kenet has made it to his ninth birthday and for that we celebrate. But we know God can take him through number 10 and we’ll do what we can on our end, if possible, to make that happen. Please join us in praying for God to completely heal Kenet of this cancer and rejoice with us in this moment…if you have a blue bunny…whack it!

Disclaimer for all animal rights activists…I should have said if you have a paper maché blue bunny. I am not advocating through the writing of this blog, the harming of any animal, blue or otherwise.

That should suffice...I would hate to be hit with a bunny suit! (I can hear the groans from here!)

Music hath charms...

This culture may fall short on some things, but when it comes to celebrating Mothers…they do it up right! Of course, there is a Mother’s Day but more than that, the entire month of May is dedicated to honoring Mothers. It’s a big deal, believe me.

The school is having a big celebration for their mothers the end of May and Pastora told me she wanted all the children to sing a song in English at the program. She said it was a tradition, that all the other English teachers had done it before me (at that moment, I wondered if that was one of the reasons I was teacher number 5…) and that I could choose any song I wanted. Sure. No problem. I still haven’t gotten over the shock that God has me working with children in this capacity…now I have to teach them a song in English!?!?!? Trust me when I say that’s a head-scratcher…

There are definitely problems with this whole scenario. To begin with, a dog howling at my vocals sounds better than I do when I try to sing. The closest I come to playing a musical instrument is pushing the buttons on my MP3 player and speakers. Plus, the kids are not super motivated to learn greetings in their English classes…I can’t imagine how this is going to fly. Then, there’s the logistics of trying to get all six classes to sing together when three classes attend in the morning and three in the afternoon.

God patiently listened to my whining…once again…and then told me to get with it. So, I did a lot of internet surfing trying to find the perfect song for the kids. I finally found a very simple, basic song for “M-O-M-M-Y” using the tune to the children’s song B-I-N-G-O. I thought it would be fun for the kids to sing and I thought it was simple enough that they could learn the words. The kids in first, second and third all seemed to catch on to it pretty well the first time we went through it. Now, it’s just a matter of enunciation and timing on the clapping…these kids abound with enthusiasm so they’re a little hard to restrain when it’s time to put their palms together! It’s too fun to be frustrating.

But, it’s a song for little ones…how were the bigger kids going to react to it? I decided if I was going to go insane over the next few weeks, I might as well do it in a big way. I took a vote in the 3 older grades, asking them if they wanted to sing with the younger kids or if they wanted a more grown-up song. Well, duh… So, the next vote was they had to choose between a song for their mothers or a song for God. Surprisingly enough, a song for God was the winner and the kids all seemed really excited about it. That was going to make it easier. I have Christian music on the MP3 plus several CDs that had been sent down as gifts. I was starting to be a bit encouraged…maybe this could actually happen. So, by my own doing, I’m trying to teach two different songs in a “foreign” language to these kids. Did you hear that? I thought I heard a heavenly chuckle…

One of my favorite songs is a song written by a contemporary Christian band out of Belfast, Ireland called Bluetree. The band is not that well-known, I suppose, but one of their songs is a tremendous hit, thanks to Chris Tomlin. “God of this City” is a song that touches a part of my heart that just goes raw every time I hear it. Of course, it’s a perfect “missions” song as it applies to every mission field there is. The message of the song is that God is God of “this” city, King of “these” people, Lord of “this” nation. That truth is the truth Jim and I hold on to at our darkest times here. If we didn’t believe that, we couldn’t stay here. But we do and here we are. We know that song is every missionary’s song for their people group in their nation. It’s so great that God’s Truth is big enough for us all to claim…

There are two versions to this song. Bluetree’s version is amazing and I love the complete lyrics but Chris Tomlin’s is much shorter and that is the one I have on CD. So, I thought I would play it for the kids and see what they thought. I translated the lyrics in to Spanish and printed them off in both languages for the 3 older grades. Although they have to sing the song in English, I want them to know the significance of what they’re singing.

I took the cd player and the cd with me to school on Thursday. I have to admit I was a bit apprehensive as to how the kids would receive it. My first class in the afternoon is 5th grade. There are 25 students in this class, ages 10 – 16. The kids liked it okay…and made a fair attempt at trying to sing along….all wanted to sing it in Spanish. I think they’re missing the idea that the English teacher is supposed to teach them a song to sing in English…oh, well. It wasn’t awful but it wasn’t great, either.

Usually, I have a break and then go to fourth grade but because it was Book Day, the school schedule was not as normal. As a result, as soon as I finished with fifth grade, I had to go over to the sixth grade. When I walked in, they were pretty high energy. But, Douglas, my beloved pain in the neck, saw the CD player and immediately wanted to be in charge of it. He was determined to figure it out himself and didn’t want much help. I passed out the lyrics and explained the song to the kids while keeping one eye on Douglas growling at anyone else who dared to come near the CD player. I worried about how it was going to fare and even more so, how the CD would survive. But, I was so encouraged that he wanted to be helpful that I just prayed God would protect the fragile little disk and the player. As always, God was faithful and Douglas managed to get it going without my feared catastrophe.

You know that saying, “music hath charms to soothe the savage breast” that has been revised to say, “music hath charms to soothe the savage beast”? Well, whatever bent you prefer, it’s true! Within seconds after starting the music, the kids were quiet. Some of them came up close to better hear the music. They listened carefully to the song and when it came to an end, I asked them if they liked it, yes or no. I received a resounding yes. And then, Tony, the other ringleader of the class, said softly, but firmly, that it was beautiful. My heart almost leapt out of my chest! These kids liked it…they really liked it! So, we played it again…and again…and again…and again…and again. We talked about the pronunciation of the words, the significance of the song, the beauty of the music and I was assured by that class, hands down, that they could learn it and were excited to sing it.

During one of the times we played the song, I realized almost every student was on the floor, around the CD player, singing the lyrics as best they could at that moment. Jim was taking some pictures of them when all of a sudden, they were singing in perfect harmony. It was absolutely beautiful…and unbelievably stirring. My eyes filled with tears and I looked at Jim just in time to see him wiping his eyes. Tony and Douglas looked up to see us both overcome by the beauty of that amazing moment and all I could do was smile…both smiled in return. I started to say the moment was magical…it was better than that…the Holy Spirit was filling that room and we were acutely aware of His presence. The kids that have absolutely run me ragged were singing praises to our God…I don’t know of any better way to bond hearts than in worship to our Almighty Lord and Savior.

Our time in that class ended way too quickly. Wow! I never thought I would say that… It was time to go to 4th grade. As we were going in to the classroom, I realized Douglas was walking in with me and taking the CD player out of my hand. He and Tony had come with us to the 4th grade class. Tony helped me explain how the lyrics were repeated while Douglas got the CD player plugged in and ready to go. I was just in awe at the transformation of those two boys. I am not so foolish as to think that behavior is permanent, but neither am I not going to cherish those moments of cooperation and assistance. I love being on the mountain…

How quickly those mountain tops can flatten out and you find yourself feeling like Gumby down in the valley. The 4th grade class is a large class like 5th grade. The kids were excited initially but the novelty of having music in class quickly wore off. Luis, the 6th grade teacher evidently realized that Tony and Douglas were missing and he came and retrieved them for his own class. I hated to see them leave…at that moment, they were the proverbial wind beneath my own raggedy wings.

There were some in 4th grade who were interested but most preferred to play their air guitars or wail sounds at the top of their voice. Volume evidently trumps clarity. When I asked if they would prefer to do the M-O-M-M-Y song with the little kids, I got a resounding “NO!” Oh, well. We have a month and if we get to have all our classes, that means we may get 10 more opportunities to practice. We’ll see what happens. This may be the year that tradition changes.

I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion that if I can get the 19 sixth graders plus the few in the 4th and 5th grade that are really interested, to learn the song well, that maybe that will be enough to carry the others through. Besides, Moms don’t really care if little Juan Carlos or Maria José can carry a tune or remember the lyrics. They just care that it’s evident to everyone else that their child is the star performer. That’s a fact. It’s true with my grandchildren, it was true with my own girls and I’m sure it was true with my mom. That’s why Nicaragua has it right in regards to Mothers…they deserve a month of their own to be honored.

Miguel and Elizabeth...

I want to update you on the situation with Miguel and Elizabeth. Miguel is the young man I tutor in English two days a week and Elizabeth is his wife. Many of you are familiar with their story and there are three folks from Cassville who have had the privilege of meeting them. They are a very special couple to us and we recently were given the opportunity to share God’s Word with them and what it says in regards to marriage.

Like most couples here, staying together seems to be a challenge for them and trying to keep them together is certainly a challenge for us. Much like folks in the U.S., neither of them are thrilled to take responsibility for their own failures yet are quick to point their finger at the other. I love Miguel to pieces and would do anything for him. But, I’m not blind to his faults. And Elizabeth is like a little child in so many respects that my maternal instincts fairly jump to her defense…but she is not without blame for their problems.

Counseling folks who are rooted in their own beliefs that conflict with God’s Word is not always a pleasant task in my native tongue. Trying to do it in a language in which I barely manage to make myself understood at the grocery store is a real challenge. Toss in the cultural differences and this counseling thing definitely takes on an interesting bent. There are times I want to just shout, “Are you kidding me?” when I hear of so-called offenses that I deem silly yet I realize if the shoe was on the other foot, I’m sure our culture has the potential to seem just as foolish in certain practices to many others in the world. The saving grace in this, literally, is that God’s Word cuts through all that. His truth is universal and timeless. How amazing is that? I am so thankful that God’s ways are different than man’s and that His thoughts are higher. That actually has made this process go much more smoothly than anticipated.

The problems Miguel and Elizabeth have are not mine to share. Suffice to say they have had problems from the very beginning of their marriage…Miguel is a Christian, Elizabeth does not yet know Jesus Christ as her Savior. Unequally yoked. That’s explanation enough. We’re praying that we get to see her come in to that relationship with Jesus.

Even though I don’t want to make their personal issues public, I do want to tell you about our day in Tipitapa. After our little encounter with the policeman, we managed to travel problem free to Miguel’s house and safely deliver his dresser. Miguel and Elizabeth live in a house that is maybe 10’ x 12’ maximum. The floor is dirt and the only opening, save for the holes and gaps in the walls and ceiling, is the door…there is no window. To say the house is modest is an exaggeration.

Miguel and Elizabeth share a twin bed, which takes up almost ½ the house…it literally reaches from wall to wall. There is a bright pink mosquito net hanging from the ceiling which surrounds the bed. Although it looks romantic, its purpose is functional. It not only helps keep the voracious mosquitoes at bay, it also is a thin layer of protection at night from the rats that want to lay claim to Miguel’s house, incuding his bed. There is a small dresser right next to their bed which also acts as their t.v. stand. This was Elizabeth's Christmas present that Miguel bought with his year-end bonus money... an obligatory amount by law. He so desperately wants to make their little house a "home" for his wife as that's her desire...a home. The t.v. is kept covered with a towel to try to keep the dust at a minimum. I think the small t.v. might possibly have been used…it’s fairly new to Miguel and Elizabeth but doesn’t look like a new set. Miguel also uses this dresser as a place to put his books, their several towels, plus personal items. There is a small table which holds the gas stovetop we bought for them for Christmas. Is it safe in there? Nope. But neither is it safe outside as it would quickly disappear. Miguel has put some nails in the walls to hang their two pans on. The new dresser was purchased to hold their few clothes plus the few other items they have kept in two small plastic totes on the floor. Another surprise for Elizabeth...and one for which Miguel has been saving for a long time. It fit perfectly in the only place for it. Although, precious floor space was lost, the ability to store things in a dresser was well worth the trade-off.

When we arrived, Kenet, Miguel’s nephew who has cancer, was sitting out back coloring in a color book with some crayons I had sent over to him the week before. He looked great! His hair has grown back in and he’s looking stronger and filling out. His eyes were bright and he was loving and talkative, sticking close by, holding my hand, stroking my arm…white skin is such an attraction and skin as white as mine, is a real curiosity. It was so good to see him acting and looking like any other child – with the exception of wearing the ½ mask and his frequent rest breaks. He would go sit down and stay very still, as if trying to recharge his energy levels. After awhile, he would be up and around again but all too soon, another rest break would be needed. We believe that Kenet’s progress is a direct result of your prayers of intercession for his health…please don’t stop!

We also were welcomed like long lost friends from Miguel’s mother…hugs and kisses and stories of her own health issues. She has diabetes which she treats with oral medication when she has the money to buy it. She’s a determined woman. Although she was still in her gown when we arrived, she was up, cooking and stirring around. One of Miguel’s brothers, Isaiah, was also there with his little boy, Ezekiel. While cordial, Isaiah didn’t have much interaction with us…the novella (soap opera) on the t.v. was much more interesting than the boring gringos. Ezekiel on the other hand, while keeping his distance, followed us everywhere, watching our every move. Every now and then, I am reminded of how different we are at first glance…our skin color, our nationality, our age. I hope that the differences continue to be as obvious to non-believers the more they get to know us…

We spent about an hour at Miguel’s, playing with the kids, playing with the new puppy and kitty, visiting with the family and looking at the soon-to-be butchered mama pelibuey (a cross between a sheep and a goat). This is usually done only at Christmas or the New Year but Kenet has his ninth birthday tomorrow and it will be done in his honor. The doctors have said they’re not sure he will be here to see his 10th. We are praying differently. The family has asked us to attend Kenet’s party and we wouldn’t miss it for anything.

After visiting for awhile, I finally asked Miguel if it would be possible for us to go see Elizabeth. His face revealed every emotion he felt…shock, fear, excitement, anger, hope…and more fear. A man’s pride in this culture is everything. His first response was that he was not going to go ask his wife, who chose to leave him, to come back. I asked him only to do what God would want him to do, not what his culture expected him to do. He said he would think about it and then said he wanted us to stay for lunch. We said we would love to do so. Miguel then disappeared in to his mother’s house for a bit.

We found out later than he had left to go buy chicken so that his guests would have meat to eat. That kind of thing always gets to me. There would not have been chicken that day if we were not there. Buying chicken meant something else wouldn’t be bought. I so desperately wanted to give them the money for the chicken but I wouldn’t offend Miguel or his family for anything and to offer to pay for the lunch we had accepted an invitation to would have been an insult. I also have to be careful to make sure that the family doesn’t see Jim and me as their answer for all their needs…we want this family to depend on God. Upon his return from the market, Miguel said he wanted to take us to Elizabeth. We got in the car, prayed and headed over to her grandmother’s house.

I have tried to write this next part three different times but I can’t do it and still maintain the degree of privacy that I feel is necessary. And obviously, Kodak moments weren't appropriate. There are some things that are just too personal and private to share in such a manner as this. The specific problems and intimacies of a marriage are not meant to be discussed in a public forum. So, I apologize to you for not being able to tell all the details of that visit. Really, I think all that’s necessary to say is that Elizabeth is now back home with Miguel and they seem to be doing well. Both are beginning to recognize their own shortcomings and are working on their communication skills. Yesterday, Miguel told me they have begun reading the Bible together each night and praying together. That is a huge step.

There are moments of our visit to Elizabeth’s grandmother’s house that I do want to share with you. At one point, Jim and I were sitting in the front room of Elizabeth’s aunt’s house which is connected to the grandmother’s house. We were in the middle of a very serious discussion with the aunt and I was sharing God’s word with her on marriage when I felt something at my foot. I glanced down, momentarily distracted from my concentrating on how to translate a certain point to see a scrawny, half-grown, moth-eaten-looking black chicken with a broken string tied around its neck, pecking furiously at my shoe. It took me a few seconds to get my thoughts put back on track but I did manage to stay on task, despite the constant attack on my tennis shoe!

It was so hot in that dirt-floor house and not even a wisp of wind blew through the open door or the single window, but even so, it was hotter out in the searing sun. Sitting in the front room was definitely the better choice. Jim was sitting on a roughly made wooden bench which also served as a table and I had the honor of the one chair that wasn’t broken, a plastic chair…the other one, a rocker, had broken reeds in the seat and the aunt was rocking a crying baby about a year old. Both ends of the child were wet and I imagine he was as miserable as he looked. The room had a few photos on the wall and several pictures that would appeal to children. There was a small t.v. on a wooden table in the corner and a small home-made cage under the table…obviously the chicken’s home. There was a large pan full of dirty dishes sitting on the floor in the kitchen area…their barrio had been without water for three days. The smell of beans burning on the fire out back permeated the house. It seemed to be a Hemingway moment brought to life. Sounds so “so-what” when I try to describe it now. But the thing is, it was just so Nica-like.

Another moment that sticks out in my mind occurred a little later. It is when the grandmother asked me to come in to her house and to speak with Elizabeth. I think the older women all thought I was going to be their last hope in getting Elizabeth to decide to stay there and not to return to Miguel. After all, I was a woman and I understood and even agreed with some of the things they were protesting. Problem was, I wasn’t turning out to be their Great White Hope, after all.

The aunt was standing at the doorway to the small bedroom that Elizabeth and her grand-mother were sharing. The front room was filled with cousins and I think even a neighbor or two might have managed their way in to the group. All talking stopped as I walked through the front room. Jim stood in the front doorway, apprehensive to let me out of his sight. Nicas are very passionate people and it’s not unusual for family arguments to erupt in to some sort of violence.

As Elizabeth and I talked in the tiny room, that thought crossed my mind as the voices out back of the house were beginning to escalate. I can’t say I actually prayed to God at that moment, but I know in my mind I was hoping He would not let me die so hot and sweaty with the next-door chicken pecking at my shoe…I really do hope to have more of a gracefully- swooning-back-on-my-pillow-moment as my last earthly hurrah. God wasn’t ready for such drama from me in either case, obviously, as we all parted ways peaceably, even if not in complete agreement.

Speaking of drama, one of the other things that struck me was in the midst of this live family novella, we were consistently treated as honored guests. Welcomed, hugged, kissed, privy to family stories and family shame, truth and lies…still, I can’t help but wonder what was said as they tearfully watched the Americanos’ green 4-Runner finally leave, taking their beloved Elizabeth away. I know Elizabeth’s heart was broken by the hurtful things said to her as she walked out the door to re-join her husband. I know their hearts were broken watching her leave. I know Miguel’s heart had been broken 10 days earlier.

Love and marriage. Sometimes in Nicaland, it seems like it’s more of a human poker game and it’s all about winning. When there’s separation and division in a marriage or in a family, no one wins. It takes much longer to heal a heart than it does to break it. We’re praying for Miguel and Elizabeth but also, now, for the entire family. All their efforts and all their ploys netted them absolutely nothing. They were a lot like that scrawny little chicken…insistently scratching, pulling and pecking yet not getting a single thing of value to fill the empty space. My goodness, we need God’s wisdom and His guidance to successfully work with this family…and they need Him.