In the summer of 2007 Tamalyn and Mark Tanis encouraged a few of my fellow volleyball teammates and me to participate in mission trip to Nicaragua. Never did I expect one summer to make such an impact on my life. What I experienced on this mission trip can never fully be justified by my words, but I will try my best to share with you what God has shown me.
The poverty that I encountered was entirely different from that of the United States. Nicaragua has a sad beauty emanating from everything. Managua’s grandeur is America’s worst nightmare. The city’s streets were riddled with trash. It was so chaotic that a person’s eyes meandered from building to building, not fully understanding all the commotion. The sun beat down on the jagged metal and crumbling rock. Cars zoomed through the streets, not following traffic laws. Everything had the appearance of being second-hand and aged. The tallest building was no more than few stories high. People crowded the streets, doing their best making a living by selling everything from freshly peeled mangos to umbrellas for shade. Not many natives could afford such luxuries, but the targets for the vendors were tourists.
My missions team landed in Managua, but our destination was Somotillo; a rough four hour ride on
an ancient yellow school bus. Not many people have an efficient means of transportation, so they must rely on their own dirt caked legs to carry them from place to place. God's creation was spectacular. The land was a radiant green, contrasting vividly with the deep azure sky. The sun glittered brilliantly, making heat mirages across fields speckled with scraggly trees. We passed a colossal lake that stretched for miles before my eyes. If our driver had not shared with us that it was a lake, I would have sworn that it was the ocean. A silhouette of mountains developed steadily into my line of vision. A volcano gently smoked in the distance, giving a haze to its foothills. But beneath all of this glorious landscape was a dying poverty.We were half an hour away from Casa de shelly, the compound that the team would be staying at. A little girl in a dirty, threadbare gray shirt wandered towards the bus. Her hair was badly tangled, and she was perspiring from the heat. She began to run along the side of the bus, and lost one of her flip-flops in pursuit. This by no means slowed her down rather she continued to chase us with even more vigor. The road was composed entirely of rock and dirt, which cut her foot as she ran, but she too no notice. She raised her arms and waved them back and forth, begging us for something, anything. We had nothing to give to her.
We arrived at Casa de Shelly and unpacked the bus. We had brought seven duffel bags of people's second-hand articles to "bless" the people of Somotillo Chenandega, Nicaragua with. The natives considered the articles blessings; I considered them to be old and unwanted. Two of the bags were full of stuffed animals to give to children; the other five were full of clothing.
Our team of eighteen and two translators set out on two trucks. The back of one of the trucks was large and could hold twenty people. It had bright orange benches and white metal bars across the back for its passengers to hold on to. We were completely loaded down with candy and stuffed animals and t-shirts. We were headed to a village to share the Gospel, give medical attention, and play with the children by teaching them volleyball. The journey to the village was rough, and about a half-hour drive by normal car. It took us an hour and a half. We were thrown around the back of the truck because the road conditions were terrible. We tossed candies and stuffed animals to the children and parents who lined the streets. I felt like I was a part of some twisted parade. Sweaty brown children came flocking to the trash-ridden road, just so they could get their hands on a few pieces of candy.
We arrived at the village as hundreds of faces turned towards the sounds of our trucks. I saw
hunger and sorrow etched into the faces of the adults. The children had wide eyes of curiosity. We gathered all the kids, who then took us up a steep dirt path to a small opening in the trees. It was full of cow manure and tree branches. We set up a volleyball net and played around with the kids. Meanwhile a doctor was tending to the needs of all the adults back in the village below. As we continued to play, more and more children joined the game, laughing and smiling. How was it possible for them to laugh? They had nothing to call their own except the clothing on their backs (some children were naked) and yet they still could laugh.We stopped playing and shared the Gospel. We told them the good news about Christ. Many of them had never heard of God or Jesus. We gave them information and shared our testimonies. None of them could speak a word of English, so all of this was relayed through our translators (bless them). Many of the children raised their hands to accept Christ as their Lord and Savior. I mus have said, "Bienvinidos a la familia de Jesus" a million times. It means welcome to the family of Jesus. Never has a sentence sounded as sweet to me.
We returned to the main part of the village. Don and Pam (the leaders of Because We Care Ministries) were sharing the Gospel with the adults. Many of the elders listened intently. After we told them the good news, we brought out twenty watermelons, along with two large bags of beans and rice. We gave the beans and rice to the people and told them that the food was a gift from God. Many of them fell to their knees with thanksgiving to the Lord. That simple gift would feed them for the next three weeks.
This all happened in just one day. We visited two or three villages a day for a week. Every village was extraordinarily different. Upon our arrivals in each, we received the same welcome full of eager and curious acceptance.
On the third day of the mission trip the team drove a particularly difficult two hours to a village that had a high percentage of children. When we arrived, hundreds of children were already waiting; they had heard that we were coming. The team was standing in the back of the truck when Don asked if anybody would like to share their testimony. I decided that it was time for me to tell what God had done in my life. Never had I had a more attentive audience. Hundreds of eyes were looking up at me, but I delivered to them the word of God. I was blessed that day. And i remember a face that stuck out of the crowd. A girl with the most beautiful smile timidly raised her hand to accept Christ.
Later that week my missions team followed a very narrow and twisted road into a part of the country that rarely had seen cars. For the last leg of the trip, my team had to climb out of the rusty old truck and walk over the thirsty dirt ground. Each of us carried a watermelon the size of a toddler on our backs. On the way to the village there was an old man busily filling in a pit with dirt. As we approached him I saw nothing but his milk white eyes and paper thin skin. In his blindness he was doing all that he could to aid his village. It was as though father time was hunched over on the road, busily feeling his way with his leathery brown hands. I never got his name, but he was trying to fix the road so we would be able to drive to his village. The children there were hungry and needed medical attention. My heart lurched in my chest at his honesty and strife. I took a machete and slice my watermelon in half. As I handed half of the watermelon to the old man, the sweet juice poured over his arms and he cried out in disbelief. Even in his own hunger he wrapped it tenderly in a dirty cloth to take home to his grandson.
On one of the last days that we were in Nicaragua we went to a village to baptize people. Along with a few Nicaraguans, a few of my very own team members decided it was time. A close friend of mine that had asked for counseling during the week made the choice to follow in baptism. The people from my team who each made these important decisions were Jocelyn Kellinger, Mrs. Haggen, Allyson Paone, and Faith Griffin. God did amazing works that week and is continuing through Don and Pam.
God has blessed me so much. Nicaragua was an eye opener for me, as well as every other person who journeys down there. I view my life so differently and with so much more gratitude. Each day is a blessing from God. Wee live in America, where food is not scarce and the water is not contaminated. There is so much work to be done in the United States as well as the world for His kingdom. I feel that I will serve the Lord in some capacity in the mission field. Many countries in the world are dying of poverty, physically and spiritually, and I feel that it is our responsibility to help them. My help would not be based solely on the physical and material things necessary to survival, but also the knowledge that I could give them a second chance at life in the name of God. Nicaragua helped me to realize who I was as a person, and who God wanted me to be.
It's all about Jesus
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