Part 1: Living in Excess.
This Thanksgiving will be one that I remember for the rest of my life. It started out normal enough, for the World Race at least. I got up and ran a 5k Turkey trot, down the dirt streets of Rivas, Nicaragua with my teammates. We jumped over holes, avoided angry dogs, and endured countless looks from the locals as 5 gringo's dressed in all black paraded through their city.
We came home and enjoyed a special treat of chocolate chip strawberry pancakes, showered for the first time in a few days, put on our most "normal" clothing and headed to the local bakery.. one of two places in town with internet, to attempt to skype our families for a quick hello on our first real holiday away from home.
After Skyping, Mary B and I continued cooking for our Thanksgiving feast while the other three cleaned and prepared for ministry. Our Menu: Chicken fajitas, my mothers famous mashed potatoes, homemade mac and cheese, garlic green beans, cinnamon carrots, fresh baked bread, lemon squares and the perfected "big cookie/big brownie" combo ( yes it is as good as it sounds).
When we finished all of the prep we headed to Bethel, the feeding center. I spent the better side of an hour and a half playing soccer with the boys in the street, stopping only for passing motorcycles, horse carriages, and occasional dump trucks.
At 4, it was time for bible study and to serve the meal. After three weeks of practice, we can now serve and clean up the meal for 80 kids in about 25 minutes and after we finished Mary B and I were casually talking in the kitchen. Without even realizing it I was scraping the burnt rice off of the bottom of the giant pan in prep for the morning clean and that is when everything changed.
Mariana, an 8 year old girl, peered over the pot and shyly said " Muy rico, Yo quiero mas".
My teammates and I are living on 3$ a day per person. We haven't even used 1/3 of our food budget this month because we have been only eating fresh fruits and veggies from the local market. On 3$ a day in this poor city we have so much left over that a Thanksgiving feast with 8 dishes hardly put a dent in our budget.
There is a family who lives in a shack behind Anita's house that we are staying in. Four of their eight children sleep on the floor in one of the bedrooms in Anita's home. The mom, Lorena, helps cook for the Bethel children and the Dad is the security guard for the Bethel property. They live off of a few dollars a month, but Lorena usually throws the burnt rice to the dog because her family has enough to eat.
Mariana asked for more food. Food that people who have nearly nothing , feed to the dogs. Food that even the poor in a third world country, deem unfit to eat. It was at that moment my heart broke. All of the compassion that has seemed to evade me the last few months came crashing back. As I served Mariana some of the burnt rice I knew that I had to do more. I took her hand and led her back to the house, I gave her my share of the fresh bread and 100C (4$). I told her that she was beautiful and watched her disappear as she walked home.
My heart ached as we returned home and I cried out to the Lord as this sweet child's story broke my heart.
