Meet Mismar...and his dimples

It's been a couple of days since we first arrived in Rivas, however it only took Mismar one morning to steal my heart. Huge brown eyes + dimples that would make anyone smile= I'm a goner! This sweet 6 year old has become by far one of the highlights of my days here. Tickling him could easily become one of my favorite pass times. We play endless games of hide and seek, or rather Mismar runs around the clinic and I chase him until I catch him, throw him into the air and we start the game over. He loves to be spun in circles, loves watermelon (which I quietly sneak him my piece everyday during our lunch breaks), and has the best giggle I've heard in a long time. The best moment yet with him took place today after lunch. The church worship band played Open the Eyes of My Heart for us, and as we all worshiped together, my eyes were drawn to the cutest little Nicaraguan who was joyful smiling, dimples in full force, and clapping along to the music. I can already tell on only day 3 of the clinic that I am going to miss this boy when we leave. A LOT. Heart get ready.

A.W.E.S.O.M.E.

Today started off shaky. I didn’t feel well on the bus ride to the clinic. Felt shaky, light headed, incredibly anxious for some reason and as we lined up for our morning prayer, tears began to come like it or not. As the awesome leader he is, Nathan, our full time Nica leader, noticed and quietly pulled me out of the circle to breathe, grab some Gatorade, and gather myself. I am not sure if everything was taking a toll on my body or if my new station in the clinic of “eye glasses” was freaking me out subconsciously.

I had wanted to be willing to go where I was needed and gladly accepted the request to serve in glasses this morning, but on the inside I was terrified. I know nothing about glasses. Have never worn them and definitely had never tried to fit someone for them. On top of that, we would not have a translator in our station, which meant speaking in Spanish about glasses. Awesome. With a few prayers, okay a LOT of prayers, and Mary and Amber’s patience and help, Rachel and I mastered just enough Spanish to be able to say to our patients in Spanish: “please stand here, can you read this line? How about this line? Is it clear or blurry? Is the problem reading or distance? Too strong or do you need stronger?” Whew. Here goes nothing!

(Fast forward 8 hours) As I lay in my bed after surviving the day, I am realizing that I’ve learned more Spanish in 8 hours than I did in 6 years of classes! Not to mention, I was able to give 20 people glasses!! AWESOME. I, me, little ole me, was able to help renew someone’s sight right before my very eyes! I can assure you that I have never felt anything better than what I felt when you can see sight, clear sight, come back to someone after years of blurred vision. My arm hair stood on end every single time and I had to fight back tears, after all, I was the professional (or so they thought). Praise God for donated, 1987ish glasses. I also learned that Nicaraguans care just as much about how glasses look as we do. We had to talk a few women into choosing the glasses that they actually read better with versus the smaller, more fashionable ones. Too cute. It made me laugh that even in a poverty stricken country, fashion is still important to women everywhere.

Day 2...Clinic Opens

Today we kicked off the clinic with a bang, or actually with a beach ball and a microphone if you want specifics. After praying as a united team, both Cheles and Nicarguan church members, we were all given our marching orders for the day and headed our separate ways. With children's ministry being an area that I had not experienced much last year, I headed to my area without really knowing what to expect and equally taunted by fear and excitement. My 1st day in children's ministry definitely allowed me the opportunity to hone in on my strengths and weaknesses. 

Strengths~ who knew I would come all the way to Nica and learn home to make a perrito chimboomba (balloon animal puppy)?! Who knew I could make a scraped leg better on an 8 year old boy with only  2 words ("dolor?" does it hurt and "Aqui" here), 1 rickety old chair, and a make shift band aid, aka...a monkey sticker?

Weaknesses~who knew how exhausted I'd be and out of creativity in aprox. 1.5 hours of the clinic opening its doors? What do we do for the next 6 hours? Who knew we'd have 35+ kids to entertain all afternoon? Maybe I'm not as great with kids as I thought.

Somehow, by the grace of God, we made it through the day with broken Spanish, broken toys, a blow-up microphone and beach ball serving as our only athletic equipment (duh...baseball). Only one child bleed, and another needed 3 stitches (thank God we are hosting a medical clinic), but I guess it could've been worse, right?

Can't wait to see what tomorrow holds!

Waking up in Nicaragua

Today we woke at 5:45am, not because I had to per say but because the sun was shining through the window above my bunk and the roosters were telling us it was time to stir. With our morning orientation behind us and our mission in clear sight ahead of us, we boarded our trusty bus and drove 2 hours through some of the most beautiful hills I've ever seen. Rivas, Nicaragua will be our new "home" for the next 6 days and I am excited to meet the city and its people. It feels wonderful to be back and yet it also feels as though I never left.

As we drove from Managua to Rivas, the city of mangoes, it was still surreal to see the life differences between my home and their home. Rocks hold their roofs in place and dirt takes the places of carpet. And although the condition of the animals here is getting easier to see, my eyes are still drawn to them. I know in my heart that I need to get over it, after all how can they justify feeding dogs when they are struggling to feed their families? But again it just opens my eyes to how incredibly blessed we are in the states. We have such a plethora of resources that even our animals are well fed and sometimes over fed, and can even be dressed to the nines in doggie couture if the owner sees fit. The bottom line is that even a small difference such as the animals here make me feel incredibly blessed.

With less than 24 hours in, I can already tell that the Lord is at work in my heart and mind. Preparing yourself to have your life turned inside out with questioning what really matters, asking yourself if you're really, truly thankful for your blessings and what you're going to do with those blessings, and finally being stripped of almost all of your comforts even down to clean clothes is never going to be an easy way to spend a week. Yet as we stepped off of the bus in El Rosario and I saw the first 2 women who were there to greet us at the church where we'd hold our clinic, I knew in my heart that I was in the exact place I needed to be. Clean clothes or not.

Hola y Buenas Tardes

Thank you to everyone who has welcomed me back via hug, text, calls, etc… Your thoughts and prayers have made my return an easier one. As we’ve spoken, I’ve been using the term “back in one piece” but started to realize last night that might not be the most truthful statement to use. How do you come back from a trip like that and not be missing pieces of yourself? The short answer is that you don’t. Pieces of me and my heart are still in Managua and Rivas, another piece of me is with a little boy named Mismar and a beautiful 10 year old names Liwiska “Gabriella”, and more pieces of me are with my teammates, both near and far” and most likely will be forever.

A few of you have asked if I have blogged yet or if am going to blog again about the journey. I will. It’s now my responsibility to tell my friends and family of the amazing people that I’ve met and about the wonderful trip that so many of you helped me finance and in turn experience. I wanted to start writing yesterday but honestly wasn’t ready. It’s still too fresh and I’m still trying to sort through everything. Tomorrow I’ll pull out my journal from the trip and begin to tell the story of our team, which is in turn their story (my new Nicaraguan friends).

Thank you again for your support, prayers, love, etc… I couldn’t have done it without you. I’m so glad to be back in pieces, but back none the less.

Dios le bendigas!

Diva, Apparently

Apparently I am a Diva. I knew I was in some instances but was completely blindsided to realize that I might very well be the “team Diva” on my Nicaragua trip that’s about to launch in less than T minus 5 days. When you’re headed out of the country for 10 days and in close proximity with 15 strangers, the last thing you want to do is come across like Heidi and Spencer Pratt on “I’m a Celebrity, Get Me out of Here”!

But seriously, is no one else stressed out that all of our toiletries have to fit into a small Ziploc baggie?! Not a freezer, one gallon bag, but a small, here's your sandwhich bag. And not a few of the toiletries, but ALL of them. And enough to keep me clean and non-smelly for 10 days, not a weekend, and sans air conditioning anywhere in sight! My head starts to swirl when I make a mental list of everything that must fit in the small bag and 16 OZ liquid limit (i.e. face wash, body wash, face lotion, body lotion, deodorant, toothpaste, sunscreen, bug spray, mascara (okay, maybe I am a Diva), chapstick, stuff to keep my hair from distracting/scaring small children at the clinic, hand sanitizer, etc…I could fill one whole baggie up with just sanitizer!!).

I asked about the baggie in question and felt a room of blank looks shift in my direction. Lord, please keep us safe, please bring us the patients and allow us to care for and love on the patients, and please Lord let all of my toiletries fit in the sad little baggie below. Amen.

A Story. Not My Own, But So Much More Important.

I've had a bit of blogger's block over the last week or so. That was until just 2 minutes ago thanks to Facebook. After perusing the "photos" section, I stumbled across an album from a friend's recent mission trip to Kenya. To say I was humbled by their photos would be putting it lightly. Awestruck seems more appropriate.

When I used to debate with my Christian friends on why I was fine having my "private" relationship with the Lord, why I was fully justified in not attending church because I didn't need an establishment to serve God, etc...I would usually end by letting them know I didn't want to become the kind of Christian they were partly because I loved the U.S. You see growing up I never wanted to leave the states and seeing the world just didn't do it for me. I told them that I didn't want to become a missionary one day and had no desire to travel to Africa and help people there. I was fine here and I knew if I did what they were asking of me, if I gave my life to the Lord, surely God would send me to Africa. Ugh.

Fast-forward 9 years. I've still never been forced to go to Africa. I've never been forced to go anywhere I didn't want to go for that matter. God has changed my heart. God did lead me to Nicaragua. It wasn't as bad as I thought 9 years ago. I hope one day He leads me to Africa. I'm not ready yet for the desert. One day I hope to be.

Their story is below. I'm not going to attach my words, as it wasn't my trip and I don't have a first hand glimpse into what it was like. I think his photos tell the story. I simply wanted to share with you the faces of the people that were touched. The lives that were changed. And the land that was blessed. You'll see faces, people, prayers, desperation, love, drought, faith, and rain. The land hadn't seen rain in 3 years. These men were desperate. Prayer can change things and it did. Rain drops on a dirty grey t-shirt have never looked so good.

Parental Observations

Yesterday I had the pleasure of being an on-looker as two different parents made their children’s universe a very happy place to be. Let me preface this post by saying that earlier in the week I had sat down on the couch to catch up on an Oprah episode discussing child neglect. Needless to say, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room (granted, I was the only one in the room but I swear I saw Piggy shed a tear or 2 as well). I sat on my cushy couch, with my drink and snack in hand and watched story after story of children who are raised without food, without bathing, without any love from a single human being, and sometimes even raised in cages. I was heart broken and enraged. How can you do that to an animal let alone your own child?!

As I stood in church yesterday, and as I joined in with 1,000 other people as we sang and worshiped together, I noticed a family of 3 two rows ahead who would allow me a glimpse into the exact opposite upbringing that I witnessed via Oprah. Both parents, most likely in their early 30’s, literally “fought” over who would get to hold their child during each song. I say fought, but I mean it in the sweetest sense you can imagine. They both just wanted to be in that moment, hearts singing and arms holding the one they loved more than life. As we sang “Happy Day” the young mom danced with her toddler and held him up as if he were the only person on the planet. Love was in the air, along with the sweet boy with the red curls.

Later on in the day, over grilled hot dogs and bluegrass music, I had the pleasure of watching a father dance with his precious daughter in front a stage and crowd. Oblivious to the onlookers, this child was about 6 years old, danced like she knew what she was doing with graceful arms and smile plastered on her face, and was probably one of the cutest kids I’ve ever seen. What caught my eye more than her smile was the genuine look of love on her daddy’s face. You could tell that he felt like the lucky one. As the mom snapped pictures and the rest of us watched in adoration, I knew that I was privy to a family memory that would probably last a very long time.

As one of my dear friends watched beside me, she leaned over and said “I’d give a million dollars to have a memory like that with my dad.” Again, my heart broke as I was reminded of what much of her childhood was like and again I felt bad that she’d never feel a memory like that for herself. At the same time my heart grew for the little girl dancing with her dad who would have that memory.

As adults, you never know what memories your children will hold on to, but I do know that I hope to equip my children with plenty of loving ones for them to choose from someday. No child should ever grow up willing to pay for a happy memory.

Road Trips and Weekend Getaways with Your Girls...What I Learned:

• It’s possible to consume more calories in one car trip than you can in one whole week.
  
• Fountain Cokes with vanilla syrup and popcorn ice make any 5+ hour car trip WAY cooler.
  
• Never turning the radio on during your 11 hours of travel leaves much room for chatter.
  
• “What if” and “Would you Rather” can knock out at least 2 hours.
  
• When in doubt, do not eat at a resturant where flies definitely out number customers. Gross.
  
• Having a soldier on your boat during the 4th of July makes the day a little more real and meaningful.
  
• The older you get, the cooler your friend’s parents become.
  
• 30 is a little too old for extreme tubing. You’ll hurt for DAYS after the fun ends.
  
• Never trust a friend who swears they won’t tip over the jet-ski. You’re totally going in that frigid lake water.
  
• Yelling categories out as you plunge into a lake can add hours of cheap entertainment.
  
• Signs is a game enjoyable throughout all generations.
  
• Confetti is still way more fun than bubbles in my eyes.
  
• Put 4 girls in one car and you’re bound to grow closer. Tears, laughter, and snacks can deepen any relationship.

What a Week!

Wow. What a week and what a whirlwind of devastating news. Thank the Lord it’s Friday, because quite frankly and selfishly, I cannot take any more sad news this week.

For those of you who know me or for those who just simply made the mistake in bringing up Jon and Kate this week with me in the room, you already know my heart was hurting and I was in protective mode for the Gosselins. Sure, I don’t know them, but I have fallen in love with their kids over the years alongside of half of America. To see anyone’s marriage crumble, is devastating, but to see it plastered all over the tabloids, just too much to take. And then Mark Sanford’s announcement and to know his marriage is in shambles too. Not too mention the recent announcements of college friends and sorority sisters going through painful divorces, IS THERE HOPE anymore in marriages?

And just when I felt as though I could take a deep breath, I got the text. The text that I’ll always remember where I was when I received it and how I felt. “Michael Jackson is dead. What is going on??” All I could think was “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! YOU MEAN FARRAH FAWCETT, RIGHT!!”

I’ll save my fond thoughts on this American icon in another blog, as I thoroughly believe the man stands alone and deserves his own shout-out. But seriously, I cannot remember a week, maybe aside from 9-11 and Hurricane Katrina, when everything seemed to stand still. When everyone seemed to want to gather and talk about the news. When I’ve been glued to the TV and radio in the hopes of being able to wrap my head around something. Can’t listen to his music over the last 18 hours without tearing up, but can’t not listen to it either.

This week: too much, too quickly. Emotional overload. Please make it stop.