The trash lay astrew, some knotted on the ground, glass glimmering as it catches the sunlight. And the children are everywhere, running from hidden homes. There is food on that bus. They frantically line up, knowing something that we don't: not everyone will get some. Frowns seemingly engraved on their dirt smeared faces. I gather my team, and we present our gospel drama. After, we are just as dirty as they are. And then we give them sandwiches. One after another, they take them. They scamper off to the sides eating their sandwiches, somehow grateful for this tiny act of kindness. Our Nicaragua friend tells us "they live on less than $20 a week."
$2 a day. For one family.
But here, what constitutes as a family? Is it the 10 year old girl holding her toddler sisters hands? They hang onto her like a mother.
Or is it the many women without a man in sight with 6 kids in tow.
I tell my team, "go, play with them. Love on them." We have 2 short hours.
The little one with dirt under her nose and sad eyes is mine. I sit in the dirt, broken glass, trash and God knows what else lays around me. And I reach for her hand, she hides behind her 10 year old sister/mother. She gives a faint smile, but she doesn't know how much I want to give her love. Her sister says to me with broken eyes, "when will you come back?" How can I tell her this is our only time? She has probably seen it before, people come in for just a few hours and they leave. How can she know all we want to do is bring her home?
After some prodding, a little friend comes to sit on my lap, in the trash covered dump. A language barrier isn't much in these moments. I speak my broken Spanish and she giggles as she teaches me words and I forget them all too quickly. Silly faces for a camera brings them a joy I hadn't seen before. They are so trusting. Physically, they are so impoverished. Food needs to be rationed and clothes are picked up from the mounds of trash. But, they have so much. They have one another, and now, for the first time, they know love.
Lies whisper, "they will forget soon." But those children won't forget. It is something so different, so foreign it will forever be etched on their hearts. Because this kind of love is fierce. Thia kind of love is relentless. This kind of love is fearless.
This is brave love.
I watched this week as my team of 4 teens, 1 youth group leader, 2 co-staff and myself, an inexperienced leader, felt God's love just a little bit deeper, inspired to live more fully.
It has been so fulfilling to give Bibles to people who have never owned one., to find hope amidst piles of trash and to disciple my team to grow.
At the end of this week, I am overwhelmed by God's affection.
He took me, an inexperienced 19 year old girl to lead a team of teenagers from America to Nicaragua. And the fruit is amazing.
I've seen a girl who used to be paralyzed to speak in front of others share her testimony, a girl with terribly high walls tear them down and let people in for the first time. Teens have led people to the lord. I heard the words, "I want to be a missionary."
The joy of discipleship is something I love to be a part of. lives changed and hearts mended inspires me.
I am learning that God is so big and strong that he can use even me to accomplish his plans. I am the clay and he is the potter. And as my dad always says, "God don't make junk."
I've been in Nicaragua for almost 2 weeks. And I am so hungry to keep falling in love with the Lord, I am so hungry to give him to others.
Here I am. Send me.
