MY Plans? Really?!

Okay, so not in my plans for Nicaragua was participating in the women's study group (insert God's chuckle here). I avoided that part of our team meetings leading up to the trip. Not interested. I'm newer to my faith and spirituality (when is that excuse not an excuse anymore?) and helping someone with a women's group intimidates me.

Well, the woman leading that group, Jen, and I started chatting on the first night in Nic about our faith journeys and continued to do so sporadically throughout the next couple days. Tuesday, the first day of her gathering, over 50 women attended. It was astonishing. There weren't church bulletins or reminders in the weeks leading up to the day; there was just an announcement two days before at church and a couple posters on the doorways.

Jen approached me that Tuesday night, asking me if I would tell my faith story the next day. I asked if she wanted the rated G version or R. She said whatever I wanted to tell. She felt it was important to just be real with these women. Over the last year I have had the opportunity to share my story a couple times (rated G and R), and each time it brings healing. So why not? I was actually excited, no nerves – yet.

I did get scared about an hour before. I started to doubt myself – would I say the right things, what if I offended someone - the junk in my trunk that I will work on for the rest of my life. I like to write what I'm going to say because I can edit, edit, edit. Thankfully, two friends appeared and reminded me God would provide the right words, and they prayed for my nerves to disappear (insert God's patient sigh).

Participating with the women's group is what I will cherish most from this trip. After I told my story and was asked some questions, these women from Nicaragua and from my church gathered around and laid their hands on me and started praying in Spanish. So surreal. Then we were hugging and crying.

Afterward a woman approached me and said she had connected with my story, and she will be praying for me. Praying for me? I'm still processing and having trouble articulating what this means to me. With all the poverty and sexual abuse and oppression they suffer down there, I'm overwhelmed with all the love given so freely (insert God's “I told you so”). These are the faces of Jesus.

By the way, if you ever hear words coming out of my mouth that start with “my plans” and not followed up with “but I'm rolling with it,” please grab the nearest 2-by-4 and knock me over the head.

Duck, Duck, Goose

So when I signed up for this mission trip to Nicaragua, I had certain ideas/thoughts about what might happen. Don't get me wrong, I felt pretty open about it. My friend Heather and I wanted to be the vagabundas on the trip, the ones who would help where help was needed, but my intent was to play with the kids as much as possible.

One of the things I didn't anticipate was freezing up as the children came through the door the first morning. In that moment it hit me how much I depend on language, talking, to connect with my 2nd through 4th graders on Sundays. I froze. I turned to my friend Morris in a panic and told him I have no idea what my role on this trip is going to be now that it won't be with the kids. I was crushed. Two minutes later I heard the words “pato, pato, GANSO!”, duck, duck, GOOSE. I was in. I sat down on the floor and from then on I was experiencing Heaven on earth on this trip. I tear up just thinking about how much I fell in love with these kids at that moment.
And it's not that I want to bring them home with me. I met some of their moms. They love their children. It's the ache that I want to see them every Sunday like I see my boys and girls here every Sunday. I don't want to wait a year and miss how much they grow, miss the huge - and I mean huge - hugs and many kisses they eagerly and freely give no matter how soaked you are with sweat. I would gently pull away, point at myself and pinch my nose and wave my hand, saying “oooh, stinky.” The darlings would pull me back in and just squeeze me tighter.

Mariposa (butterfly) kisses were a huge hit, eliciting lots of giggles, as well as finger twirls, two girls at a time twirling like ballerinas. My heart is overwhelmed with how much I miss them already. We were only there six days, but these six days were so intense with emotion that it felt like two weeks.

There are so many more stories to share, how it surpassed my wildest dreams and imaginations, so I hope you will tune in as I process this life-changing experience I had the opportunity to participate in. I only hope my words can express an inkling of the emotion I feel in my overflowing heart.

Jealousy

Our family dynamics have shifted in the last couple years, but they seem to have been more pronounced this last school year. My son is shifting to the other side; that is, he's not hangin' with his mama so much anymore. It's all about his dad. I could always count on a snuggle, calling out to me first with some new idea he wanted to share, the ever familiar “Hey, Mom, guess what...”

An example that comes to mind is what I experience when the three of us go to the movies. As a little guy, he would turn to me when something was funny to share the laugh; or if he was scared, he would grab my hand (or even end up in my lap!). Now it's my husband he turns to first for the laugh or excitement or surprise. And this may seem pouty, but sometimes he doesn't even turn to share it with me at all.

What I am clinging to when my feelings are hurt during this period of change is that this father-son relationship is shaping my son into the man he will become. My son informed me, “Because this man will craft this man.” I do find comfort in that statement. I'm going to work on cherishing the memories of the little boy who favored his mama and be ever so grateful that he has this awesome role model in his life.