He is Faithful

This past Sunday I led worship with my nica sister in a barrio here called Limonal, one of the more dangerous barrios we have the opportunity to do ministry with. Osvaldo had approached me the week before and told me I'd be leading some songs, so it wasn't a complete shock the day before when Rossy asked me how practicing was going. What was a shock however, was when context clues led me to discover they were intending for me to lead in English, AND Spanish. It was one of the most nerve wracking things I've ever agreed to do (even though it was kind of unknowingly, and I didn't really have a choice), but I heard once that faith was spelt RISK- and if this was anything for me it was risky, and therefore, a huge step in that direction. So Montse and I began to practice, learn, and write out lyrics together into the night.

There was a refreshing breeze through the dry heat of that Sunday morning, as over 100 people gathered there with us in Limonal to worship and praise the lord together. Everything went smoothly and wonderfully after Montse and I pulled up to the dirt pavilion just in time. Introduced literally as we stepped out of the Shaddai van, Montse and I sang and harmonized together, switching from Spanish to English, and back again, to the rhythm of the holy spirit in that place. During the lesson, Osvaldo talked about Romans 10:15, and how beautiful are the feet of those who bring the good news. I looked down at my feet, covered in dirt and dust- not unlike every other day since I've been here- dusty, dirty, and anything but beautiful. I look at the feet of the pastor, the people, the children, and back down at my own: all them covered with dust. And yet all of them covered with the blood of Jesus. A friend of mine brought another scripture to mind recently- God makes beauty out of dust. 

I think about the children I want so badly to serve, their jubilant faces smiling up at me through the dust in the barrios. I think about the clouds of dust that billow up behind the dozens of little feet chasing our van as we leave. I think about the dust that completely covers all of us by the end of the day- our feet covered by the work we do day by day. I think about when Jesus washed the disciples dirty, dusty feet, and how he is using this awesome experience to wash mine. As I live life here in this new place, learning how to serve, learning humility, living what Shay Claiborne describes as the church coming alive, as the body of Christ, and not in some figurative sense, but literally the flesh and blood of Jesus here to do his work on earth- His hands, His feet. The same dusty feet that walk through the streets of Chinandega, of Limonal, of Nazareth, of Clemson, of Johns Island. And so as I walk these streets, as I walk with Jesus, and continue striving to learn what it means to be brought out of the dust, to be made beautiful, a true servant- I can feel my earthly perspective shifting. I can embrace the gospel I am living here, and walk on this holy ground, into the gospel of grace.

Overflowing

"For out of overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks."- Matthew 12:34 

I pray more of Him, less of me. Every day I pray that He would empty me completely & allow me to lose myself, to find and be filled entirely by Him. His love fills my heart and overflows into my life, allowing me to love like Jesus. 
As I walk down the streets here my heart is full, I want to reach, to touch, to heal, to be faithful in every way He has called me to be. All kinds of people surround me as I pass from one home to another- the poor, the rich, the joyful, the hopeless- all living here side by side; a sparkling gated mansion next to a rickety tin hut- the smiling right alongside the painfully sad. I walk and pray and wonder which of them, if any, know Jesus. And then I hear Jesus' response, barely audible over the chaos of my own thoughts and opinions jumping into my mind, saying, "This is what is important: I know them and I love them. All of them- of every status, every sentiment, and every circumstance; no one more than the next.  No ground less holy than the other." And in that moment, even through the heat and sweat dripping from my forehead, I felt chills run down my spine causing goose bumps to raise all over my sun-cooked skin... And I began to see it: the Lord's beautiful heart for his people in Nicaragua- just a glimpse of the powerful love that can surpass social status, circumstance, and all knowledge. 
I am never happier than when I am down in the barrios, eating and playing and kneeling in the dirt and dust with the people and the children there, the poorest of the poor. They have a joy that in their situations and circumstances is literally unexplainable. They have nothing besides the clothes on their backs and the shoes on their feet, but what they do have goes far beyond anything of this world. They don't have plasma flat screen TV's, nice cars, and sometimes not even a roof over their heads- but oh they have Jesus. And simply that, is enough for them. They are full, overflowing. And their joy, their love, is contagious. They have the aroma of Jesus.
I am blessed as I walk through the streets of Chinandega. I am blessed as I wave back to the giggling children on every street corner.  I am blessed as I take part in this awesome journey with Jesus, in pace with the beat of his heart, with every step he moves my feet to take on this hard, dusty, holy ground- every breath he gives me to praise his precious name- every opportunity he gives me to share it with his people- every moment, every blessing that brings me continually to my knees, over and over again. 
And there is no place I'd rather be.

A Calm in the Storm

So things have taken a turn for the tranquil lately. I get to spend a lot of time with the family, praying and worshipping with them, and watching Biggest Loser (it’s an emotional season- Americans and Nicaraguans alike). With less directed work to do and less things to keep me occupied, I am forced to look inward (which I’m sure was the plan), and face difficulties that were easily avoided in the midst of all the craziness and chaos in a typical, wonderful day here in this place. After being here almost a month, the loneliness I’d pushed to the back of my mind is beginning to re-surface. It’s easy to be overwhelmed here- literally everything has potential to override my mental, emotional, and physical balance, and become an instantaneous overload. With time I’ve realized the things that can immediately help me return to that place of peace the Lord created me for. I’m a quality time person, in my down time, I have to recharge- I have to go to and spend time with the one and only source of peace and joy and consistency that’s overflowing.  (Or blare my totally secular American music- I don’t know what it is about Beyonce and Chris Brown, but they always seem to just bring me back… Don’t worry Jesus is always my go to, I promise. …But there’s just something about good LOUD music, and trust me my new Nicaraguan friends definitely understand me on that one- they take blaring music to a whole new level. Especially the Catholics next door- they love Beyonce). I usually go up stairs during these times of necessary renewal. They have this room upstairs, always kept clean and in its utmost condition, that they call the Tabernacle: it’s a 24/7 prayer room, and literally has a gold tabernacle in the center of it. It’s awesome- always having at least 3 lizards on the ceiling, and a cool Nicaraguan breeze welcomed into the heat of the un-air-conditioned room through a perpetually open window. It’s a wonderful place to find and return to peace when I get caught up in the busyness, in doing things, in serving; I turn my focus to all of my lesser goals, and I take my eyes off of the one most important overarching one. That’s when the doubt, the insecurity, and the loneliness find their way into my day to day; and I function as if I am alone, as Jesus fades into the background of all I am trying to do for Him, waiting for me to put Him back in the center, and let Him carry me again, because we both know I can’t do this alone. It’s been harder lately, but I think this is one of those times I have to remember that sometimes God chooses to use difficult times, rather than change them- because my heart is his first and foremost priority.

I’ve been told many times that I am not going to be the same person when I come back from Nicaragua. That people are going to wonder what happened to me over here. I suppose if it’s supposed to happen it will; I don’t know what that would look like or what that means for me right now, but I have to admit, I’m pretty excited at the prospect.

Faith

Then the disciples asked, “Why couldn’t we drive out the demon?”

Jesus replied, “Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.

If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given to you. This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.

I tell you the truth; anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these... And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.

Is any one of you in trouble? He should pray. Is anyone happy? Let him sing songs of praise. Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. And a prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned he will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayers of a righteous man are effective.

In my name they will drive out demons; they will speak in new tongues; they will pick up snakes with their hands; and when they drink deadly poison, it will not hurt them at all; they will place their hands on sick people, and they will get well.”

Then the disciples went out… and the Lord worked with them and confirmed his word by the signs that accompanied it.

Matthew 17:20-21, John 15:7-8, 14:12-14, James 5:13-16, Mark 16:17-18, Mark 16:20

A Normal Day

So I've been learning how to be a pharmacist going to the clinic for 4 or 5 days of the week, and learning about prescription drugs and prescribing medicines in the pharmacy. Yesterday was the first day I actually put it to use: I consulted my first patients at the medical brigade in Watel Arata- completely in Spanish- and under the watchful eyes of my assistants of course- Cindy, Ishmayline or Ishma for short, and Cristel (all 8 and 9 years old). I administered their medication, explaining what it was and why it was prescribed, and explained the dosage. We had almost 150 patients (including an old man named Freddy and a 13 year old named Larry, which was a nice change from all the Marias, Pedros, and Angelas we'd been seeing all day long), which is huge compared to the usual 30 or 40 at most. It took literally all day- 9 to 5.  I realized then though that after only 2 weeks I can already talk and play with kids and have slow to medium speed conversations, even consulting medical patients. Even more people have started refusing to speak English to me now, but I cant really complain.. I guess it's helping. 
It looks stormy a lot here, especially in the barrios closer to the volcano because of the ash and dust- but it keeps it cooler, and I've always liked stormy weather so I don't mind, we just wear our masks if it starts to settle. But somehow, the sun still manages to blaze through the dark sky making us all nearly sweat to death at the tables we're stationed at; I can only imagine the heat the people outside the consultation tent must be feeling every sweltering hour that passes waiting in line.

It's getting cooler at night now, in the 70s, which is nice! It almost makes me want to start sleeping under a sheet again- but not quite. Many nights when we're all home we'll go to a bible study or meeting at the church/clinic which are always great and so full of the Holy Spirit, but I always leave feeling disheartened, and tired, and missing home. One of my new friends named Claudio found me after the bible study last night and asked me why I never prayed or sang during worship. I tried I tell him I definitely do at home, and I would- I just didn't know what was going on or else I definitely would be joining in.. I just feel like I can't. I feel too lost in the midst of everything that's happening around me. It's hard to sit through a 2 or 3 hour bible study and worship gathering when you only understand bits and pieces, and you feel like you literally can't grow and learn with everyone else. It's hard to feel so disconnected, like I can't really pray with them even if I really want to, because I don't know what's going on or what they're saying. It's frustrating and disheartening because I can feel Jesus so present, so thick in that place, but it just feels like my hands are tied, and I can't seem to figure out how to react, how to worship. It's hard to explain, but at least in the midst of everything, I can feel the Lord working in and through it. I'm praying and waiting and renouncing anything that works its way into my heart that's not from Him. I know the Lord isn't confined to the boundaries of language. I know His character to be the same here, there, now, and forever.

Prayers for strength and for confidence. For a spirit of wisdom and understanding to know Him better, to recognize him in any situation, and be led to complete surrender in worship- whatever that looks like. For a reckless abandonment in every aspect of my life here- because this isn't about me, and I don't want to get in the way.

La Brigada

I love it here!! I’m so busy and exhausted all the time, (especially living with a 9 month old, I feel like I’m already getting a taste of parenthood) but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love the work I am doing, the people I am with, and the heart of the family the Lord is allowing me to know intimately for the time I am here. All day Friday I was at a medical brigade at the volcano (the largest in Nicaragua, and the one that has been erupting the past couple weeks) it was beautiful, but still spiting ash so we wore masks and stayed away from the dust clouds (pulvo) as much as possible. The masks, paired with our scrubs, El Shaddai shirts, and stethoscopes made us look very official; which is probably why everyone automatically assumed I was a doctor, that and I was white. I did the charts and “logging” of the medicines and patients at first, but once Chris (my roommate/sister here) and I switched, I was free to go amongst the people and talk and pray and love them a little bit. During the second community we visited I sat next to the medical supply truck with one girl named Jessica, and began to talk to her (in my inexperienced Spanish) telling her my name, about my family and why I was there. She was shy at first, but once her friends gathered and I got them talking, they didn’t stop till was rolling up the window to the truck as the team drove away a few hours later; they even ran after us to ask for my phone number. Jessica, her mom, and her three brothers and sisters were shoeless, and their clothes, and bodies, were about the same color as the dirt they were playing in. She was 12 and her siblings were 5, 7, and 9 I think. We talked and played and I taught them magic tricks (which turned out to be a bit of a challenge with the language barrier we were encountering), and we almost got stampeded by a heard of sheep, bulls, and cows (twice) as they came running down the uneven mountain paths. One of those times a terrified and crying little boy, who couldn’t have been more than 6, couldn’t quite climb up the dirt walls on either side of the mountain pathway as the herd stampeded towards us, and so my immediate thought was to yell “Stampede!! In the gorge! Simba’s down there!!”... but quickly realizing that no one would even get that Lion King reference, I slid down the hard dirt wall of the pathway and ran to hoist him up onto the other side to which he was reaching, and grabbed a vine to pull myself up with him before the herd charged over us, in a mad dash to safety, away from the Nicaraguan herder on horseback bringing up the last of them from behind- I had seen “Australia” with Hugh Jackman, and being trampled by a herd of livestock is not pretty (it wasn’t as dramatic as the scene in the movie.. but still, it was a good story). After the herd passed and we all covered our faces with our shirts as the clouds of stirred up dust settled, I helped all the children back down and we began to talk again, and communicate as best we could about topics we could both understand. And this- as I talked with the children, and played, and laughed with them- was when my confidence began to rise. We understood each other- and love knows no language. It’s funny how when I came here I was thinking only of myself, and how I was going to be doing so many things, and helping out in so many ways- ie me, giving to them. But now I’m starting to think I’m here not only for the people here, but also for me personally. To learn, to grow, to encounter Jesus in each little child I meet smiling up at me with such love through the dirt and filth that surrounds them. I feel like here, spirituality is more raw, the love for Jesus is so real, and not covered up or complicated by materialism and pride and self preservation- Nicaragua is home to some kind of reckless abandonment that I am still trying to figure out. And my heart swells- every time I wake at 7 in the morning to go work at the clinic, every time my eyes burn as I bend over a smoky fire to cook for a hungry child in the barrios, every time I sit down in the dirt and dust next to the tin and cardboard houses, introducing myself in broken Spanish to the people living there, and every time we worship alongside each other- hands raised, in sweet praise of the only thing we have in common. Jesus is so alive here, and being such a part of it- in it- makes me never want to leave.

La Nica Way

So 12 days here have come and gone, and I am learning a TON.

As far as Language goes, a lot of times when speaking Nicaraguan Spanish they use half of words instead of the whole word in conversation (like “porfa” instead of “por favor” for example), and they use common phrases that don’t make any sense at all, I guess kind of like we use “raining cats and dogs” in the states, and they add pues to anything and everything, like "dale pues" (which is basically esta bien) or "adios pues", and also phrases like alaviuda (It’s like voicing frustration- saying I’m angry), or me pudre (frustration- when something’s making you mad). I’m starting to get a much better idea of how to speak the language, and in just making myself try and talk all the time, I’m learning a lot. On one of our more recent long car-rides, which happen quite often, I asked about a statue that we passed of a man, only his torso and right leg visible, chiseling himself out of a mountain of bronze. It was commissioned by Ortega, and symbolized the culture of Nicaragua, and honored the working class, which is and was what Nicaragua was built on. That started a solid hour discussion about Nicaraguan history, government, politics, and Ortega. I soaked it all in, it was so interesting!

Also, there are zero traffic laws here- I heard Clair talking about traffic in Africa, and I think some of her experience and explanation is pretty much accurate for here too: there are 3 basic rules of the road-

1) the bigger car has right of way.

2) stay on your side of the street, unless you don't.

3) honk when necessary- or all the time.

It’s chaotic, but somehow I’ve gathered it’s pretty safe. I've gained a lot of respect for everyone driving around in this place, its all stick-shift and its all crazy all the time- weaving in and out of cars, dogs, horse pulled carts, triciculos (taxi bike things), normal bikers (usually 2 or 3 per bicycle, sometimes whole families- it's impressive), children, families, etc. They said I will learn to drive stick-shift here, before I leave… I’m not holding my breath.

I've also learned that Nicaraguans are jokers, which is fun, but when everything is a joke, it can definitely be tiring at times. I think that’s one reason why the culture is so laid back. They have a very loose interpretation of time and punctuality, but so does everyone else, so it works. 

I love it here! I'm definitely going to be sad to leave...

Finally!

Estoy aqui!! Finally. 

AND I found a way to access wifi! Finally. 

Leaving this past Wednesday came and went more rapidly than I could ever imagine! Its already day four of mi vida nicaraguense! The preparation and anticipation for my leaving really built as the hours became shorter and shorter; my departure on my first flight into Atlanta fast approaching. But even with the bright horizon of adventure in plain sight, leaving my family at the airport was so bittersweet. I was sad to leave knowing I’d be away for so long, and I was scared of the unknown I was walking into as I walked from my family and friends towards the terminal... And yet I can’t explain it, but I, beneath all my surface level emotions, had a complete peace- a peace that definitely surpassed my own understanding. I think it’s because I knew I was walking right into the Lord’s arms and what he had planned for me. So I left the US, and Osvaldo and his greeting party were at the airport when I arrived, picking me up from the airport in Managua at 8:30pm on the dot. That was the first time I felt doubt squeeze its way into my mind. The team that had come to pick me up barely spoke English, and all of a sudden I was too quickly very aware that life was from now on going to be very, very different. In my first few hours in Nicaragua I felt like such an outsider, sitting in the back of the van, listening to my new Nicaraguan friends yelling and laughing, hearing my name come up a few times in the blur of fast paced Spanish conversation. I could understand a least some of what they were saying and the jokes they were making, but they definitely couldn’t understand me. My confidence level was slowly dropping.

Remember how I said that Nicaraguans don’t seem to have a sense of time? Well here’s my trip home to Chinandega, the start of my adventure, in a nutshell: We drove from the airport to get food, to a drop-in for a friend of his in a nearby city, to get food again, to a pharmacy, to the gas station (we didn’t get gas), and finally to a church office in Managua. By that time it was 2am, and that was when Osvaldo decided to tell me we were going to stay the night in Managua, so that he could attend a funeral service there the following afternoon.  Oh, and we were staying the night in the parked van- all 8 of us. After the funeral service the next afternoon, we finally started heading home- leaving the cemetery, going to the grocery store, a restaurant (naturally), another gas station, a motorcycle shop, all before arriving safely at the Bonilla residence in Chinandega around 4 or 5pm. I don’t think I’ve ever been stuck in a minivan for that long in my entire life, and I’m a triplet, so we were all about minivans.

Now I have been here for about a week and I’m learning so much about myself, and the Lord, and it’s starting to feel a lot more like home. My Nicaraguan family is wonderful and I love every minute I get to spend with them, especially my roommates (Osvaldo’s daughter Christian and her son Andre). Everything that has happened since I’ve been here is a blur as I try to go back and sum it all up.. I will mention however that the first thing we did when I got here, was help Osvaldo’s other daughter Montse, who is in her last month of Med school right now, remove part of a tattoo from our friend Angie’s back- with like sterilization, scrubs, gloves, anesthesia, scalpels, the WHOLE nine yards. I didn’t help for very long, and soon opted to just hold Angie’s hand. The houses here are so cool (not literally- life without air-conditioning has in and of itself been quite the adventure). The houses here are so open, like the doors and windows are like swinging dressing room doors or something, and the walls don’t quite meet the ceiling, and the windows are open with bars on them. It’s like living outside with walls and furniture, which is awesome- but hot. Like sweating all the time hot, but at least it makes an ice cold shower with no hot water a little more enjoyable. That being said, there’s a lot of really cool wildlife here, and it’s not just the outside kind. The family has a pet parrot, named Paco, that lives in the house, and just flies and walks around with us which is awesome (except that he bites- hard). And that first night when we left the operating area in Montse’s room, and I headed to mine, there was a spider the size of Texas right next to my bed- like it definitely wouldn’t have fit in the palm of my hand. That was definitely scary, but not nearly as scary as the scorpion I found in the shower with me this morning.

Oh Nicaragua- such an adventure. 

I’ve been working in the clinic, about 8 hour days thus far. It’s great, but it can be really hard (like today), being in a room bustling with at least 6 other people, not understanding anything, not knowing what to do, and no one understanding me when I try to ask. Ergo- I’m not much help yet, just doing little chores and sorting and counting pills and such until I pick up the language a bit more. It’s happening a lot quicker than I would have thought though, partially because everyone besides Christian and Montse either refuse to speak to me in English or don’t know how to, but it’s actually helping, because yesterday in church I realized I could understand most of the sermon and even follow the scripture and songs a little bit more than usual. This experience has been very humbling. And whenever I start to get frustrated or lonely or sad, God is so faithful, and when I ask, he is always there to restore me and bring something wonderful my way. Today for example after a few tearful hours in the clinic I went back to the house to clean, and after some time in the quiet with the Lord, I got asked to go do a church-like program with Crespin (one of the pastors that lives in Osvaldo’s house with us) in one of the local barrios, which was wonderful AND we rode a motorcycle through the city- which may not seem like a big deal, but in Nicaragua.. It’s awesome. Tomorrow I think Crespin and I are going to do a medical brigade (and I’m not entirely sure what that is yet..), and Osvaldo and Rossy always say I need to be up and ready by 7:30 or 8am every morning (which I am), and then they always sleep in till 9. At least it gives me the time I definitely don’t have during the daytime to write my blogs and emails and such. When I find internet (which is SELDOM) I’m hoping I can just copy and paste and upload everything quick since the internet doesn’t have great service here and can get expensive. So if you haven’t personally heard from me yet, there it is- and Christian and I are working hard to figure out wifi, so contact and more frequent blog posts are hopefully coming!

I’m so excited to be sharing all my lessons and adventures with you all!

Stay tuned- the adventure continued… 

AND if anyone still feels called to wants to donate to my mission- you definitely still can! 100% of the money I raise goes directly to the organization, El Shaddai, and it will allow to do more while I'm there! like fund more feeding programs, barrio work, prison ministries, outreach, the clinic, the medical brigades, etc! Just contact my dad (Walt Miller) or email me at hgmille@clemson.edu

Gracias mis queridos amigos por todos las felicitaciones y apoyo para mi vuelo!
me siento muy amada, y estoy agradecido para eso.