This is going to be a weird post. A lot of
emotions, and not my typical happy go lucky Costa Rica post.
Nicaragua.
10/15/12 - Bus Ride There.
Eight hour car rides provoke a lot of thinking in
my life. As I looked out the window at the luscious blue sky, I started to
wonder what got me here. But for me, that isn't a difficult question to answer.
No, I remember the turning point, the moment, the person that is indirectly
responsible for bringing me here.
It started with a boy. Hah, doesn't it always? 9th
grade. Best friend. Spencer Taylor.
There are people in your life that challenge you.
People that make you see things at more than face value and people that help
you to see life in a new and beautiful way.
I can't imagine the thought process of knowing you
are dying. Fighting it. Struggling with it. Trying to change it. -all the while
knowing that little by little there was something inside you. Killing you
slowly.
I don't know how you did it. I don't know how every
day you got out of bed and fought to live a normal life.
My biggest regret in life is that I didn't share
Jesus with you. Oftentimes people claim to live a life with no regrets, but how
can you not regret not sharing your Savior with your dying best friend? I
couldn't have saved you. This I know. It's still however, a regret I will never
live without.
After you died I hated myself and I hated God.
Nobody knew what to say to me and so nobody did or said anything at all. It was
the biggest time of hurt that I have experienced and I can still recall those
feelings with ease.
I still think about you today. I still cry and
remember. But as I look back, I'm amazed at how you changed my life. How in the
midst of a tragic and painful death, God used you to change the course of my
life in a way I never imagined.
Because of you, I see the urgency of the gospel in
a way most people cannot. I see life as more than just school and work, but as
an opportunity to love a soul for a time that's short and sweet.
So Spence, as I lie in bed on my first night in
Nicaragua, my heart aches knowing you will never know how you changed my life.
I wish just for one more day we could be best friends. I have something beautiful
and holy to share with you. His name is Jesus. I miss you Spencer. You're death
brought me life. RIP.
10/17/12 - Trash dump in Nicaragua. Home to
hundreds.
Fact. There are people who literally live in a
trash dumb and recycle trash to sell for a living. It's a hard, burdening fact
to know. It's hard to imagine and hard to picture what that would look like.
So what happens when you stop at one and get out to
really see how these people live? How are you supposed to feel? How are you
supposed to eat or buy anything after you hug children starving slowly? How do
you leave such a place, a people, children in the exact same state in which you
found them in and not walk away broken hearted? I don't think it's possible to
see the things I saw today and not be changed.
10/20/12
I'm journaling right now because I'm not quite sure
what I'm supposed to be doing. That idea has definitely been one of the themes
so far on this Nicaraguan family stay. I woke up monday morning at 5:30am to
begin my journey here. Four buses and almost 9 hours later I found myself in
the Teotecacinte Pueblo just a 10 minute walk from the Honduran border. I live
in a house with my mom Juanita, her son Miguel, his wife Kenía, their 2 month
old precious baby Karen, and my 20 year old cousin Diana.
It's absolutely beautiful out here. I'm talking
about one of the most breathtaking views I have ever seen. There are mountains
outlining both the sunrise and the sunset and the weather is gorgeous. It's
Sunday morning and I'm sitting outside on a hammock listening to my sister in
law and mom argue about the probability of this Nicaraguan boy Katriel and I
working out... They just asked me if I had a phone number in Costa Rica...
Yesterday morning I went to learn to milk cows with my cousin and him.
Apparently he has 30 cows and milks them every morning. I was absolutely
horrible at it and it gave me hand cramps.. haha. but then I tried some of the
milk with some sort of corn grain in it... There's nothing quite like warm cow
milk...
Anyways, I can't quite figure out who this boy is
and why he knows my family so well, but he comes around every day for a
couple of hours and I try to be culturally appropriate and make small talk with
him. He almost never asks questions-only answers them, sooooo I thought he
hated me... I suppose that was a culture mistake on my part. Apparently I was
very wrong. I'm not quite sure, but I think yesterday he asked me to come to
his house... My program professors also stopped by to check on me yesterday and
there was definitely talk of my "novio"... That was sure news to me!
haha Nicaraguan love... oh gracious.
So, on another note, we have church every
night from 6-8 and on Sundays in the morning as well. It consists of an hour
and a half-or more, of singing and instrument playing as well as a bit of
preaching. It's the most horribly sounding and beautiful worship ever. Last
night in the middle of church we had the electricity go off. The congregation
of about 40 people didn't skip a beat, but kept on loudly singing praises to
God. Talk about priorities and authentic faith. I absolutely love these people.
10/26/12
Nicaragua. Gosh. I'm not quite sure how to express
my trip in words. I didn't want to come back to Costa Rica. I laid in bed the
night before for hours trying to think of ways to stay. I cried when I left. A
lot.
When it comes down to it, I prefer the outhouse to
the western toilet, the tarp shower to the tile one, plucking feathers out of a
chicken I just saw die to buying frozen chicken breasts, milking cows to
drinking store-bought milk, and sitting around all day to running around
accomplishing everything. See, the Nicaraguan people taught me relationships.
They taught me that it isn't about going and doing, but being and loving. They
taught me that Jesus is truly all you need and that things of this world often
make faith more difficult. They taught me how to truly live in the world and
not of it.
While Nicaragua is everything the States is not, I
think I prefer it. Though it seems at first that they have nothing, in reality
they have everything. They didn't just talk and sing about their faith, they
were living, breathing examples of Jesus Christ-and I strive to be like them.
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