I’m home.
No, I’m not back in the States. I’m in Nicaragua. And after fifteen years of waiting, I’m home.
Let me back pedal a bit here.
When I was born, my parents had been missionaries in Nicaragua with World Relief, helping with various projects in poor communities. They flew back to the States for a brief couple of weeks for my birth, and then returned to Nicaragua for two more years of ministry. My first moments of life were in Nicaragua. My first words were in Nicaragua. My first steps were in Nicaragua. My love for swimming began in Nicaragua. My first home video footage was shot in Nicaragua. My mom tells me that in these two years (which I, of course, don’t remember), she would carry me around when she did ministry, because the locals would all be so entranced by the new white baby. After these two years, my parents and I served in Uganda for three months, before then settling back into the States.
In 2000, God called my family back to Nicaragua to serve with World Vision – this time with two other family members in tow. As a young kid, these two years we spent in Nicaragua gave me some of my most beloved memories. I look back fondly, remembering exploring my backyard jungle, swimming in the volcanic lake, ziplining through the cloud forest, camping out with my friends on an island, enjoying delicious pineapple and fried plantains, running barefoot just about everywhere, and befriending so many warm-hearted Nicaraguans (when I was MUCH better at Spanish). It was in these two years that I saw how missionaries live, love, and serve, in the poor communities that we would frequently visit. To this day, my family still talks about our adventures back then, remembering fondly all the little details of our life in Nicaragua.
I talk about living in Nicaragua a lot. It’s a fun fact about myself that I love to share, because I know it’s an experience that has shaped who I am today. And in sharing about these special two years in my life, I’ve longed to be able to step back into this country of memories with fresh adult eyes.
Now, fifteen years later, I’m here.
Memories are funny things. They’re not often defined by one specific thing, but by a million small, insignificant things. When my team arrived in Costa Rica, the little memories of Latin American began to trickle in one by one. Coca Cola with cane sugar. Golden sunlight on palm trees. The smell of burning garbage. Bumpy dirt roads. Rice and beans and platanos and sour cream and corn tortillas. Tin roofs and patchy painted walls. Open air houses. The smell of the dirt when it rains. The little plants that close when you touch them. Roosters crowing. Clothes hanging on the line. The humble, warm-hearted people. Little children that communicate in giggles.
Being back in Nicaragua, these memories have all come flooding back. And yet, what’s strange is that these memories don’t bring me back into the past. My experiences are still memories. And in attempting to relive the past, I started to wonder how a country that was once home to me could suddenly feel so foreign.
This past week, my team took several days in Granada to debrief our first month on the World Race. In this time, we had meetings with our leadership and coaches as teams to assess our progress and establish new goals. We also were given most of this time to recuperate before heading out into our next month of ministry. I spent a lot of this free time wandering around the colonial city alone, chatting with God and exploring Granada’s hidden treasures. While I wandered, I tried to lose myself in the old life that I used to live here. But as I walked around, I started to see details about this country that I hadn’t seen before. Details I didn’t remember. Details I perhaps never understood.
When I was last in Nicaragua, I followed my parents wherever they went. I saw what they saw, and did what they did, but I made no decisions on my own in how I chose to live. My parents did that. This was Nicaragua to me.
Now, Nicaragua is the missions field.
And there’s a lot to do.
Within the first thirty minutes I spent in Granada, children came up to me begging for money, eyes glazed over from the glue they’d just been sniffing. Homeless men attempted to sell me small trinkets, and walked away ashamed when I turned down a sale. Prostitutes wandered past our door looking for men with whom to spend a night with. Poor families sat on the street corners selling small food items, with children curled up asleep on the ground. I was quickly reminded that while Granada had a lot to offer as far as adventure went, this was not what I was here for.
For a weekend that was purposed for rest and recreation, God sure brought us into a lot of ministry.
Over the four days we spent in Granada, my squad of 43 had many opportunities to respond to ministry opportunities that we didn’t even ask for. One night, I shared a meal with three street boys (mostly because my meal was too big for me to eat), and got to spend some time getting to know them and encourage them. Squad mates invited street kids into our hostel to play games and show them love. Some teammates of mine prayed for a young prostitute, and were invited into their house to pray for her whole family. Other teammates got to pray over handicapped beggars lying in the town square and encourage them with the love of Jesus. And one of the coolest things to happen was when my squad invited a deaf and mute man into our worship session, and we all came together to pray for healing over him.
These moments of sharing Jesus with these new friends in Granada, whether they came to know Jesus or not, have now become as integral to my memories of Nicaragua as my memories from fifteen years ago.
I’m so excited to see what God has in store for us this month. As we continue our ministry in Chinandega, Nicaragua, we will get to minister to many poor communities, sharing the Gospel and praying for the sick. We will get many opportunities to preach, lead worship, encourage believers and seek out the lost. We will invite Jesus to shine light in the darkest and most hopeless of places, and watch as His Kingdom appears in some of the poorest villages in Nicaragua.
I have a lot of memories here.
But God’s not done making more.
“For there will never cease to be poor in the land. Therefore I command you, ‘You shall open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy and to the poor, in your land.'” Deuteronomy 15:11
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The market street in Granada.
The squad gathering for worship and teaching (and feet soaking!).
Our new friend Lucy, who jumped on board on our islands boat tour.
The breathtaking view from a four-hundred year-old bell tower.
My team taking the plunge at Laguna de Apoyo.
Awesome adventure day with the Squad at Laguna de Apoyo.
Shared dinner with these new friends!
Granada has the best sunsets.
Chinandega has amazing views of San Cristobal, an active volcano!
My new home for the month – Vision Nicaragua in Chinandega!
