Nicaragua: July 2006
This trip was what I like to call a "relationship building while doing construction and team building" trip. I'm not sure of the official name, but that is what I call it. We were painting, fixing plumbing issues, electrical issues, etc.
I was on the painting team.
According to Hottie, that was the only team I barely qualified for.
Whatever.
I can paint.
And, I did!
A lot.
I hung out with a few local ladies, painting alongside them.
We spoke some Spanish.
We spoke no English.
I learned a lot!
Of Spanish.
Francie was Francella's mom.
We painted and tried to share stories of our girls.
While we didn't live in the same type houses, drive the same kind of cars, have the same type of kitchen appliances (or plumbing for that matter), we still shared a love for our daughters. We had similar stories.
Similar hopes.
Similar dreams.
And
the same kind of LOVE for them.
As moms, our hearts connected, breaking through language barriers, cultural barriers and material barriers.
We had daughters.
I made a friend that trip.
One that will always remind me that no matter where I am in the world, God made other moms with the same love for their child as I have for mine.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Notes from Nicaragua: Part 1
Nicaragua: July 2006
It was an amazing trip.
The team we went with was great!
(One of the team members was on their first mission trip and is now an international missionary with his family on the other side of the world! Hi, Matt!)
The first day there our 4 1/2 year old daughter met a Nica girl the same age named Francella. Francella didn't speak a lick of English and our Punka didn't speak a lick of Spanish. I followed them around for a day or so before I realized that Punka was safe.
Actually, I didn't realize that.
Our interpreter pointed it out to me.
The church (like most other buildings and homes in the city) was surrounded by a 6 foot tall cinder block wall. There were gates/doors on either end of the front wall. One entrance was locked at all times. At the other gate sat 2 older men with machetes. When the school kids, church visitors or delivery men would need entrance, these guys would open the gates for them to enter. At one point, Punka and Francella went to the "playground" (a swing set with the grass up to their chins!) and one of the gatekeepers followed them over. He started cutting the grass near them.
I commented on it.
I can't remember exactly what I said.
Something to the effect of, "Oh, he's cutting the grass!"
The interpreted said, "No, he's looking for snakes."
"Oh." Keep calm? No.
I was headed over to tell Punka to come out of the area when the interpreter told me the church employs a guard around the clock.
A guard.
One at a time.
They usually trade off days and nights.
"Why are they both here?"
"Because your daughter is here. Don't worry. She is safe."
O.K.
Don't
Worry
She
Is
Safe.
Repeat.
Repeat again!
Breath.
Basically, it came down to this: One guard followed the girls around all day, keeping his distance, but close enough to keep an eye on them. The other guard was at the gate that was to be used for the day. They were safe.
And Punka had the time of her life that week.
And, Mommy relaxed to watch God move and grow a little closer to Him.
A lot of people asked us what a 4 year old could learn on a mission trip.
My answer: A LOT!
God showed me that he can work through any one with a willing heart to love others as He loves them.
Punka and Francella swung on the swings.
They helped paint the inside of the church offices.
They kept the guards busy.
I'm sure they lost a few pounds.
They colored in coloring books and played "barbies".
They laughed.
They shared secrets.
It was good.
One day about mid-week, I walked up to them as they were playing in the main area. Francella said something (in Spanish) to Punka. Punka looked at her and said, "tokie shutaki naner boo nosie. blah, blah, blah." They both laughed and took off running to the swings. I was left there wondering what had just happened.
Francella doesn't speak English.
Punka doesn't speak Spanish.
But, they understood each other.
They had another language they spoke.
It was the language of the heart, laughter.
You see, even though we may not speak the same language, we feel the same things.
And love ties us together.
It was an amazing trip.
The team we went with was great!
(One of the team members was on their first mission trip and is now an international missionary with his family on the other side of the world! Hi, Matt!)
The first day there our 4 1/2 year old daughter met a Nica girl the same age named Francella. Francella didn't speak a lick of English and our Punka didn't speak a lick of Spanish. I followed them around for a day or so before I realized that Punka was safe.
Actually, I didn't realize that.
Our interpreter pointed it out to me.
The church (like most other buildings and homes in the city) was surrounded by a 6 foot tall cinder block wall. There were gates/doors on either end of the front wall. One entrance was locked at all times. At the other gate sat 2 older men with machetes. When the school kids, church visitors or delivery men would need entrance, these guys would open the gates for them to enter. At one point, Punka and Francella went to the "playground" (a swing set with the grass up to their chins!) and one of the gatekeepers followed them over. He started cutting the grass near them.
I commented on it.
I can't remember exactly what I said.
Something to the effect of, "Oh, he's cutting the grass!"
The interpreted said, "No, he's looking for snakes."
"Oh." Keep calm? No.
I was headed over to tell Punka to come out of the area when the interpreter told me the church employs a guard around the clock.
A guard.
One at a time.
They usually trade off days and nights.
"Why are they both here?"
"Because your daughter is here. Don't worry. She is safe."
O.K.
Don't
Worry
She
Is
Safe.
Repeat.
Repeat again!
Breath.
Basically, it came down to this: One guard followed the girls around all day, keeping his distance, but close enough to keep an eye on them. The other guard was at the gate that was to be used for the day. They were safe.
And Punka had the time of her life that week.
And, Mommy relaxed to watch God move and grow a little closer to Him.
A lot of people asked us what a 4 year old could learn on a mission trip.
My answer: A LOT!
God showed me that he can work through any one with a willing heart to love others as He loves them.
Punka and Francella swung on the swings.
They helped paint the inside of the church offices.
They kept the guards busy.
I'm sure they lost a few pounds.
They colored in coloring books and played "barbies".
They laughed.
They shared secrets.
It was good.
One day about mid-week, I walked up to them as they were playing in the main area. Francella said something (in Spanish) to Punka. Punka looked at her and said, "tokie shutaki naner boo nosie. blah, blah, blah." They both laughed and took off running to the swings. I was left there wondering what had just happened.
Francella doesn't speak English.
Punka doesn't speak Spanish.
But, they understood each other.
They had another language they spoke.
It was the language of the heart, laughter.
You see, even though we may not speak the same language, we feel the same things.
And love ties us together.
A Change of Heart
We were sitting at the kitchen table.
It was during the Christmas holidays in 2005.
Hottie had been saying he was not going on another mission trip.
It was an odd conversation every time he mentioned it.
It got to where I just let him talk and then I would pray.
I knew his heart. I knew his fears. I knew our God would win this battle Hottie seemed to be having with himself.
I told him at the table that Christmas that I would go with him to Nicaragua in the summer. I talked about the people there that he loved. I asked him about the church. I wanted him to describe the city - sight, sound and smell. I wanted him to go back in his mind so his heart would long to go back. I knew God had not closed the door for Hottie and his passion for missions.
It worked.
He got excited.
He called the missions pastor and committed to lead another trip to Nicaragua.
And, in July 2006, Hottie, Punka and I went to Nicaragua on a mission trip.
It was during the Christmas holidays in 2005.
Hottie had been saying he was not going on another mission trip.
It was an odd conversation every time he mentioned it.
It got to where I just let him talk and then I would pray.
I knew his heart. I knew his fears. I knew our God would win this battle Hottie seemed to be having with himself.
I told him at the table that Christmas that I would go with him to Nicaragua in the summer. I talked about the people there that he loved. I asked him about the church. I wanted him to describe the city - sight, sound and smell. I wanted him to go back in his mind so his heart would long to go back. I knew God had not closed the door for Hottie and his passion for missions.
It worked.
He got excited.
He called the missions pastor and committed to lead another trip to Nicaragua.
And, in July 2006, Hottie, Punka and I went to Nicaragua on a mission trip.
The Beginning...Sort Of
This part is going to be really quick. Like a movie in fast forward. OK. Here we go.
Hottie and I were married in 1997.
We changed churches in 1999.
I wanted to go on a mission trip to Greece in 2000. I didn't go. The trip was full.
I wanted to go on a mission trip to Greece in 2001. I didn't go. I was pregnant with Punka.
Hottie went on a mission trip to Nicaragua in the summer of 2002. I didn't.
I was really not excited but knew this was what God wanted...for Hottie.
He came back and all was well. Hottie owned a business. It supported our family and we had no huge worries.
The next year (2003) Hottie co-led the trip. There were a few that came back from Nicaragua sick. Parasites. They'll get you every time...if you drink the water or eat the ice made with unpurified water.
In 2004, same thing. Hottie led the trip to Nicaragua. I was pregnant with Goldilocks.
Side note: This particular mission destination was interesting (as are most of them). The team went to Managua. Into the worst parts of the city. The church is situated in the middle of a not quite slum area. Kind like the ghetto. The houses all have cinder block walls around them with broken bottles cemented into the tops or barbed wire attached. Most people don't have cars. Some people have donkeys. Usually these are the people that work as delivery people for lumber stores or sell veggies and fruit in the mornings.
Side note over.
So...Along came 2005. (The not so fast forward part.)
Hottie led the trip to Nicaragua. I had the kids at home. Punka was 3. Goldilocks was 9 months old. Hottie left on a Saturday morning. Goldilocks got sick that night. VBS started on Monday. I was rather extensively involved that particular year. (My ability to over volunteer myself was still an issue.) Monday, after being up with Goldilocks all night, I did VBS and then took my little patient to the Dr's office. Roseolla. Ugghhh! No meds. Just fever reducer and whatever I could do to make him comfortable. Great. Whatever I could do to make him comfortable was to hold him. He couldn't sleep at night unless I held him standing up bouncing and swaying. You parents know what I mean. So, I would sleep for maybe 1-2 hours before he'd wake and I'd bounce and sway the rest of the night. I probably lost weight at this point to. I did VBS in the mornings, tended to my active 3 year old while trying to keep Goldilock's fever down, and tried to get to the few hours I knew I'd be able to sleep. This went on the whole week. I was counting down the days until Hottie came home. And, then, it was the hours. And, then, the minutes. I knew his plane landed in Houston around 6 pm so, when the phone rang at 6:30, we were all excited. Punka answered. Talked for a few minutes and then passed the phone to me.
"Hey, babe!"
"You ok?"
"Yeah. Tired. Ready for you to be home. Goldilocks has been sick all week."
"Oh. Is he ok?"
"Yes. Now!"
"Good." Pause. "I might not make the flight tonight. It'll probably be the red eye in the morning."
I knew his flight didn't leave Houston for another hour and a half. What was he talking about? "Oh. Why? Everyone ok?"
"Yeah. I'm on my way to the hospital in an ambulance right now."
I wondered who broke their leg getting off the plane. Hottie, being the great leader he is (I may be a little biased, but let's go with it for the sake of this story. Ok? Thanks.), was escorting the poor invalid team member to the hospital. He was going to make sure they got great care and they would come home tomorrow. I cried. I was tired. I wanted to sleep tonight. I didn't want to spend the night bouncing and swaying again.
"What happened?"
"They think I have an unrinary tract infection. The doctor on the plane said it might be appendicitis, but I'm pretty sure it is just an UTI."
"WHAT!? You think they'd take you off the plane and drive you to the hospital for an UTI? I can't believe it!"
"Well, I'm pretty sure that is what it is. Can you meet the team at the airport and get my bags? I'll call you in the morning."
"What hospital are they taking you to? Call me when you get checked in. I want to talk to a nurse. I can't believe you think it is a UTI. If you think it is that then tell the ambulance driver to turn around and take you back to the plane. I'll take you to a doctor here. You have to come home TONIGHT. I can't survive another day without you here. I can't believe this. Seriously?" I know for certain I said the 1st 3 sentences. I'm not so sure about the rest.
"Ok. I'll call you in an hour. I love you."
"I love you, too."
Click.
My mind was reeling. Then it stopped. All I could think was, "I need to call Mom and Dad."
I dialed the number. Mom answered.
"Mom........" Crying.
"Chicki?...Chicki?...Chicki talk to me. What's wrong? Mike (my dad) get the keys."
Through tears and snot, "I'm ok."
"No you are not! What is wrong? Is it the kids? Are they ok? Mike, we need to go to Chicki's. Get your shoes on." Why was she telling him all that stuff? He was probably waiting at the door while she looked for her shoes. I wonder if she realizes that she is on the house phone and she will loose reception at the end of the driveway.
"We are ok. It's Hottie. He isn't coming home tonight."
"Why not?"
"He is in an ambulance headed to the hospital in Houston."
"What ever for? Doesn't he have a plan to catch?" I thought the same thing!
"He said he has an UTI, but it might be appenicitis so they are taking him to the hospital to figure it out. He said he would be home tomorrow."
"We are coming over. You and the kids are staying with us tonight. We will be right there."
"Ok."
I called the missions pastor at the church to let him know. I think I got his voice mail. I can't remember. We eventually talked that night though.
Mom and Dad came and helped me pack for a few nights...just in case. We went to their house and Hottie called.
Appendicitis.
Now, how many of you are surprised?
Really? Do they seriously rush you to the hospital running lights and siren for an UTI?
It was 10:20ish. He said they were doing surgery in the morning and he'd call me when it was over.
Did he think it was like getting a wart removed? Was he thinking he would hang out on the operating table and make small talk with the O.R. staff and he would just pick up a phone when it was over and call me?
Whatever.
I got on the red eye to Houston the next morning. I arrived in his room at 8am (after paying $20 for a taxi). He had the surgery already.
His nurse told me the O.R. nurse that took him into surgery said she was wheeling him down when we were on the phone. I was going to let him know a thing or two when he woke up.
He was surprised to see me.
He said he didn't want me to come.
He didn't want me to see him like that.
Like what?
In the hospital, not feeling well.
Oh my word.
You're killing me!
Whatever. I'm here now!
The operating doctor came in a little while later.
"You did great! We didn't remove any of your colon."
Yum...I didn't go to med school or anything, but I'm thinking that is a good thing since it was his APPENDIX!
After a look of confusion, "I'm not sure how it happened, but your appendix seemed to have ruptured. It was like it was all contained in one space."
"We know how that happened!"
Praise God! He protected Hottie...and his colon!
The doctor gave us the pictures that were taken and it was CRAZY!
We were convinced that God had a huge plan in this and we were excited to share this miracle with everyone!
Hottie and I were married in 1997.
We changed churches in 1999.
I wanted to go on a mission trip to Greece in 2000. I didn't go. The trip was full.
I wanted to go on a mission trip to Greece in 2001. I didn't go. I was pregnant with Punka.
Hottie went on a mission trip to Nicaragua in the summer of 2002. I didn't.
I was really not excited but knew this was what God wanted...for Hottie.
He came back and all was well. Hottie owned a business. It supported our family and we had no huge worries.
The next year (2003) Hottie co-led the trip. There were a few that came back from Nicaragua sick. Parasites. They'll get you every time...if you drink the water or eat the ice made with unpurified water.
In 2004, same thing. Hottie led the trip to Nicaragua. I was pregnant with Goldilocks.
Side note: This particular mission destination was interesting (as are most of them). The team went to Managua. Into the worst parts of the city. The church is situated in the middle of a not quite slum area. Kind like the ghetto. The houses all have cinder block walls around them with broken bottles cemented into the tops or barbed wire attached. Most people don't have cars. Some people have donkeys. Usually these are the people that work as delivery people for lumber stores or sell veggies and fruit in the mornings.
Side note over.
So...Along came 2005. (The not so fast forward part.)
Hottie led the trip to Nicaragua. I had the kids at home. Punka was 3. Goldilocks was 9 months old. Hottie left on a Saturday morning. Goldilocks got sick that night. VBS started on Monday. I was rather extensively involved that particular year. (My ability to over volunteer myself was still an issue.) Monday, after being up with Goldilocks all night, I did VBS and then took my little patient to the Dr's office. Roseolla. Ugghhh! No meds. Just fever reducer and whatever I could do to make him comfortable. Great. Whatever I could do to make him comfortable was to hold him. He couldn't sleep at night unless I held him standing up bouncing and swaying. You parents know what I mean. So, I would sleep for maybe 1-2 hours before he'd wake and I'd bounce and sway the rest of the night. I probably lost weight at this point to. I did VBS in the mornings, tended to my active 3 year old while trying to keep Goldilock's fever down, and tried to get to the few hours I knew I'd be able to sleep. This went on the whole week. I was counting down the days until Hottie came home. And, then, it was the hours. And, then, the minutes. I knew his plane landed in Houston around 6 pm so, when the phone rang at 6:30, we were all excited. Punka answered. Talked for a few minutes and then passed the phone to me.
"Hey, babe!"
"You ok?"
"Yeah. Tired. Ready for you to be home. Goldilocks has been sick all week."
"Oh. Is he ok?"
"Yes. Now!"
"Good." Pause. "I might not make the flight tonight. It'll probably be the red eye in the morning."
I knew his flight didn't leave Houston for another hour and a half. What was he talking about? "Oh. Why? Everyone ok?"
"Yeah. I'm on my way to the hospital in an ambulance right now."
I wondered who broke their leg getting off the plane. Hottie, being the great leader he is (I may be a little biased, but let's go with it for the sake of this story. Ok? Thanks.), was escorting the poor invalid team member to the hospital. He was going to make sure they got great care and they would come home tomorrow. I cried. I was tired. I wanted to sleep tonight. I didn't want to spend the night bouncing and swaying again.
"What happened?"
"They think I have an unrinary tract infection. The doctor on the plane said it might be appendicitis, but I'm pretty sure it is just an UTI."
"WHAT!? You think they'd take you off the plane and drive you to the hospital for an UTI? I can't believe it!"
"Well, I'm pretty sure that is what it is. Can you meet the team at the airport and get my bags? I'll call you in the morning."
"What hospital are they taking you to? Call me when you get checked in. I want to talk to a nurse. I can't believe you think it is a UTI. If you think it is that then tell the ambulance driver to turn around and take you back to the plane. I'll take you to a doctor here. You have to come home TONIGHT. I can't survive another day without you here. I can't believe this. Seriously?" I know for certain I said the 1st 3 sentences. I'm not so sure about the rest.
"Ok. I'll call you in an hour. I love you."
"I love you, too."
Click.
My mind was reeling. Then it stopped. All I could think was, "I need to call Mom and Dad."
I dialed the number. Mom answered.
"Mom........" Crying.
"Chicki?...Chicki?...Chicki talk to me. What's wrong? Mike (my dad) get the keys."
Through tears and snot, "I'm ok."
"No you are not! What is wrong? Is it the kids? Are they ok? Mike, we need to go to Chicki's. Get your shoes on." Why was she telling him all that stuff? He was probably waiting at the door while she looked for her shoes. I wonder if she realizes that she is on the house phone and she will loose reception at the end of the driveway.
"We are ok. It's Hottie. He isn't coming home tonight."
"Why not?"
"He is in an ambulance headed to the hospital in Houston."
"What ever for? Doesn't he have a plan to catch?" I thought the same thing!
"He said he has an UTI, but it might be appenicitis so they are taking him to the hospital to figure it out. He said he would be home tomorrow."
"We are coming over. You and the kids are staying with us tonight. We will be right there."
"Ok."
I called the missions pastor at the church to let him know. I think I got his voice mail. I can't remember. We eventually talked that night though.
Mom and Dad came and helped me pack for a few nights...just in case. We went to their house and Hottie called.
Appendicitis.
Now, how many of you are surprised?
Really? Do they seriously rush you to the hospital running lights and siren for an UTI?
It was 10:20ish. He said they were doing surgery in the morning and he'd call me when it was over.
Did he think it was like getting a wart removed? Was he thinking he would hang out on the operating table and make small talk with the O.R. staff and he would just pick up a phone when it was over and call me?
Whatever.
I got on the red eye to Houston the next morning. I arrived in his room at 8am (after paying $20 for a taxi). He had the surgery already.
His nurse told me the O.R. nurse that took him into surgery said she was wheeling him down when we were on the phone. I was going to let him know a thing or two when he woke up.
He was surprised to see me.
He said he didn't want me to come.
He didn't want me to see him like that.
Like what?
In the hospital, not feeling well.
Oh my word.
You're killing me!
Whatever. I'm here now!
The operating doctor came in a little while later.
"You did great! We didn't remove any of your colon."
Yum...I didn't go to med school or anything, but I'm thinking that is a good thing since it was his APPENDIX!
After a look of confusion, "I'm not sure how it happened, but your appendix seemed to have ruptured. It was like it was all contained in one space."
"We know how that happened!"
Praise God! He protected Hottie...and his colon!
The doctor gave us the pictures that were taken and it was CRAZY!
We were convinced that God had a huge plan in this and we were excited to share this miracle with everyone!
How did we get here?
Hmmm.
I'm not sure where to start other than the beginning of our journey.
First, a little note. This blog is our story. A story God has written. A story with a great Author and willing hands and feet. We are only ordinary people living an extraordinary life. Praying you are inspired by what God is teaching us.
I'm not sure where to start other than the beginning of our journey.
First, a little note. This blog is our story. A story God has written. A story with a great Author and willing hands and feet. We are only ordinary people living an extraordinary life. Praying you are inspired by what God is teaching us.
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