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The event for today for us is moving day; we have been packing up our things for the past few days. A group of about 15 men made sure we were up early, ready to get a good start on the day.

At 3:30 AM they started with the skyrockets, and brass and drum band. It is now 4:32 AM and so far I have counted 64 explosions! (Thank you, Dad, for that skill )…make that 67. As long as I do not let myself get frustrated by the early call, it is kind of interesting to see the fervor that people have for this holiday, not celebrating our moving day, but actually La Purisima.

The whole country gets the day off, and what started this morning in our neighborhood with band and fireworks, will culminate back in our neighborhood today with a life-size figure of Mary being carried in from the main church to a stage where she is honored with ceremony, singing, lots of people, singing, street food, of course music and more fireworks.

I wish I could drop you into the celebration tonight…72. It would be one of those things that is a trademark of the country- God and his name are invited into so many things. The Holy Spirit pharmacy, the Baby Jesus clinic, the Thank you, God taxi, 76, the King of Kings bus; and while often these are used more as good luck charms, God has been invited in.

One of the phrases that I hear often is Gracias a Dios (Thank you, God), after a statement of good health, or family going well, or the blessing of a job. It rolls off their tongue to be thankful. What a blessing to be reminded to be thankful for everything. I need that reminder on a daily basis as life often takes over thankfulness.

It is now 4:46, and I think we wrapped up the morning with 76 explosions- not bad for a mornings work!

It is the evening of Thanksgiving, and if I were in the US, I would likely be looking at the ads for weekend shopping or making a turkey sandwich, but instead I am sitting in my house listening to loud booms of fireworks and hearing the distant sound of oompa music.

For those of you who have been with me more than a year, La Purisima will sound familiar, but for other let me just say that the Purity refers to Mary, and the next week and a half is filled with celebration of her.

I just found myself in a very surreal situation, although most of what I experienced is very common in this culture. Still to find myself in the midst of a religious celebration in a foreign country is pretty amazing in its commonness and complexity at the same time.

Until we move into our new place, the nightly ritual is to take the car every night to park in the paid for “lot”. I use the word lot loosely because really it is a driveway that opens to a wide spot behind a gate where all the extended family of Larry live. In order for us to park each night, they have to move their business, a hot dog stand, five feet to the left.

Tonight I got to park the car, and by the sound of the music and fireworks, I knew I was in a race to get the car in before the procession hit. When I went outside I saw the distant life size figure of Mary swaying back and forth on the shoulders of eight men, and I knew I had a few minutes to park the car before I would once again need to practice patience.

I made it in time, and as I walked out, I ran into the neighborhood homeless man from Cuba who speaks a little bit of English and sounds like a Latin American version of the Swedish Chef. He is kind enough to help me with the gate most times I pick up or drop off the car, and in appreciation I usually give him a few cords to buy cigarettes. I am not pro cigarettes, but it is something he enjoys in this stuff-less life.

I stand next to Ramon as the procession of about 100 people walk at a quarter pace, mostly heads down. Of course when they see me in the midst they usually do a double take, but I am getting used to it. In this reverence for Mary, you have the float preceded by a little pick up with two 4 foot tall speaks blasting religious music in a falsetto voice, and a few ninas dressed up in angel costumes. The float is followed by a band of six; tuba, trumpet, drums, cymbals, trombone, and something else I can’t remember. They are playing equally as loud oompa music. Then about 50 feet back, three teenage boys have the job coveted by every boy and man in the world. They get to set off an explosive at 25 feet intervals.

What I hope you catch in this is that this is reverent to them. All of this is honoring something very important. In the next week they will add food, lights, decorated houses and trees, singers, games, banners and more fireworks  to round out this time of celebration and it will culminate the our last night in this house. I think I am going to miss all this!

With Thanksgiving just a few days away, food seems to be an appropriate topic. I have been thinking about this blog for a while, but here it takes on a special twist (as do most things).

So when I think about planning a meal here-especially a special one. I use the same tools you do- cookbooks, cooking websites, previous experience, etc. The difference comes in availability!

Let me use a cooking magazine as an example. The front of the magazine has a wonderful looking deep-dish pizza, dripping with cheese; I start to drool because it has been a long time since I have a pizza like that. The front cover says stuff like “The Best Snacks to Buy Now”, “Simple and Satisfying…” and Make in 20 minutes”. I get my hopes up that maybe with a trip to the grocery store and a little bit of time we will have partake in some of these delicacies.

I open the magazine, and with the first three recipes, I start having some doubts-Peanut Butter Cup Blondies- Yum, but the other day I saw a 2 pack of Peanut Butter Cups for $1.75, not really an option on a missionary budget, Strawberry and Rhubarb Lemonade- the last strawberries I saw which were being sold door-to-door were $3 a pint for my Nica neighbors and $5 a pint for me ( I get the “Gringo Discount”), and they looked like they had been brought in my burro from Mexico. And lastly Halibut and Peach Salad- anyone who know me knows that fish is not on my menu, and although I have not seen peaches down here, I figured that a mango might be a good substitute. Three strikes, but hey it is a magazine full of recipes, this is only the beginning.

I come across a recipe for Smoky Pork Stir-fry. It looks delicious and will likely pass the Stephen test (If it is healthy, it still as to taste really good). Of the 15 ingredients, I have two of them at the house- garlic and sugar, six I could find in the grocery store, four could be improvised with something similar, and four are likely not to be found in the city. It is not looking good; it is time to move onto the “Simple and Satisfying…”

4 Edamame Salads- I love edamame, but the only place I have seen then is at our Costco like store in Managua for $8 for about two cups. Keep moving!

I see ads for cereal, hormone replacement, pasta with special protein added, and a beautiful young model wearing Depends undergarments. All of these items are displayed like it is the answer to all of your needs.

I find the section, with the Fast Weeknight Menus. I am sure there will be something in there. Every recipe I am missing something significant. Whether it is due to cost, availability, or quality, we don’t have Uncle Ben’s Brown Rice, EVOO, sirloin steak, basil, Greek yogurt, quinoa, kale, Dijon mustard or sweet chili sauce.

So what do I do? A lot of improvising, a lot of very simple meals, and my Wycliffe cookbook and Allrecipe.com are my go- tos. Wycliffe will show me how to cook a squirrel and give me the substitution for cream of tartar, and Allrecipes.com allows me to put the ingredients that I have in and it lets me know what I can cook.

We are not starving by any means, but we are learning. Learning that it is possible to go without or use something else, and when we can find something special in the store, we are really likely to buy it!

In this country were ex-pats come and they lose weight due to the heat and food choices, frustratingly, I have gained weight. I won’t bore you with my theory on the “why?”, but my goal since returning from the USA is to increase my exercise in an attempt to slow the process.

So, this week, after being asked for about six months, I joined my friend in a Zumba class. I had been putting her off for about five months since the class started at 8 PM, and I am getting ready for bed at that time. But they now have a 6 PM class and I could not think of any other excuse!

So, last Tuesday night, with some anxiousness and questioning, I donned my yoga pants and tank top and arrived promptly at Junior’s Gym at 6 PM. The first thing I noticed was that my friend had a towel and a 2 liter bottle of water. The second thing I noticed was that the room was 12 x 20 feet, and there were about 25 ladies there. The third thing I noticed was that every wall had a mirror on it. I do not see myself in a full length mirror on a weekly basis. Now was going to get to see myself “dance” in tight clothing. Hmmmm!

We started out with a warm up which consisted of more vigorous exercise than I had done in a while, and then moved into dance. Did I mention that this is all taking place in an un-air conditioned gym in the humid season in Nicaragua- 90 degrees with 100% humidity at the time. I understood the towel and water that my friend had.

When the dancing started, I realized that I was in over my head. Not only was this the first time that I was exposed to most of these moves, but to put it bluntly, I have a serious lack of rhythm. I looked around and saw all these bodies that were made for salsa, Zumba, etc. They moved their hips, waist, arms and legs with amazing rhythm to the music. Even with the close quarters, they moved in unison. I was the big, awkward, white girl, and I got to see it all in the mirror. J

The truth though is that I tried it, and I liked it, and I want to get better, and I feel better when I do it.

So, this week I spent $5 that were very well spent. The first was on an electrician that fixed the very low pressure in my shower that I have been dealing with for 6 months- yes, $4 for an electrician to come to our house and fix something. The second was the $1 I spent on Zumba- Fun! Great exercise! And I look forward to going back!

I wrote the blog below last Saturday, but today has a similar feel to it in many ways…

I once read a poem that described the weather being so heavy that it was a burden being carried around on the backs of the people. At the time it seemed like a hyperbole (deliberate exaggeration). I am not so sure of the exaggeration part anymore.

We are in the rainy season here in Nicaragua, and October is the height of the rainy season. We have not had rain for four days, and each day has added to the burden. This morning I looked out once again hoping that I would see rain clouds in the east, but instead I saw the brownish-blue sky that seems the consistency of soup. The air is still, and what seems to make the most sense is to stay inside until the rain comes.

That is not the plan for the day. A man in our fellowship died yesterday. In this climate the body does not last long, so burial is required within 48 hours. The wake was yesterday in the house and the funeral was today. I sat in the living room, which was turned into a funeral parlor, with the only fan in the room aimed at the dark wooden casket. It was a heavy day.

The service was followed by a horse-drawn carriage procession of the casket to the cemetery. I rode in a car, but the widow and most others walked the couple miles. I can’t and I don’t want to image the walk in the heat of the day. The widow graciously thanked us for coming, as if we had been inconvenienced by her new burden.

The weight continued. We sat under the high tin roof discussing Zacchaeus, with our Saturday friends in Pantanal, and dripping sweat. This is the kind of day that even the Nicaraguans are sweating, but now the clouds are building. I feel the tension of something coming, maybe a little like Zacchaeus as he sees his life about to change. He is believing in something new.

Our house is hot. The burden of the day is weighing down. I quietly take the steps of making dinner, but I know something is coming. A few big drops, a small breeze, and lightning in the distance. The rustle of plants, the slamming of a door, the coolness of wind blowing through our open house. The lightning is closer, four seconds ‘til the thunder, and the rain pouring down.

The coolness lifts some of my burden. I can breathe. I walk a little straighter, but the weight of the day has taken its toll; not just on me, but those around me. I am tired and ready to be renewed.

²² The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;^[a]

his mercies never come to an end; ²³

 they are new every morning;

Lamentations 3:22, 23a (ESV)

Waves

I LOVE PLAYING IN THE WAVES! Maybe this goes back to growing up in California with a mom who loves the beach and uncles who would take their four foot tall nieces into the 5-6 foot tall waves; we would cling to them, but we loved the water rushing over us.

I am not usually a beggar, but this past week when we were at the beach, I would beg Stephen to come out with me to swim in the waves. While I love the waves, I also would rather have someone with me in case of an attack. I am from the Jaws generation and I figure the odds are better with two people than just one!

When I first got out in the waves, I would see giant waves in the distance and while I did not run for the beach, I did nudge inward for fear of the unknown. My realization was, that with time what appeared to be huge and overwhelmed actually evened out into something delightful; something to ride into shore or just enjoy being tossed around a bit.

It was the waves that took me by surprise, that I was not ready for, that presented the most danger. With time though I developed some strategies for the surprises- be aware, jump up into the wave, dive below the wave, go with the wave into shore. Soon I was enjoyed the bigger waves. I knew what to do, how to handle them. I wanted more.

The big waves in the distance did not worry me because they were not big by the time they came to me, and the surprise waves that came to me did not worry me because I had tools to handle them.

I need to listen to my own advice when it comes to life security and spiritual matters. The big issues in the future are not for me to worry about because likely they will not be big when they finally get to me. The big issues that come to me will not be so daunting if I have the tools to deal with them; if I have taken the time to place my security in Jesus, if I don’t let my emotions run over the Truth that God has spoken into my life.

Here is another area that I need prayer! After a tantrum of “I hate my life” recently, it was very obvious that my perspective was not right. I was not rising above the wave, or riding them to the shore. Instead I was letting it throw me around, adding fear to the situation I was in.

God has put “Truth Teller” in my life, Stephen is one of them, and I need them to keep my focus on that Truth!

Let me start this by saying that in Oregon we do not understand humidity. We might say, “Wow! It is humid today!”, but if lotion needs to be applied to any part of the body, humidity is not a reality.
Since we arrived back, we have experienced some of the usual humidity issues. The sheets feel damp when we lay down, the clothes don’t completely dry after hanging on the line all day, we breathe in and the air feels heavy, and the salt comes out of the shaker in chunks. Anything that is made of paper is slightly damp, and everywhere I go there is a suspicious organic smell.
Here are a few new things for me about living in humidity:
Pillows: I did not know that pillows could mold. Drool marks, sweat stains, loss of feathers I can understand, but mold on the outside; that is new to me.
Mac and Cheese: It seems that it could have a very long shelf life with dried noodles and packaged cheese, but when I went to make a box the other day, instead of tearing into the box, it kind of shredded open. That should have been the first clue. The noodles looked normal, but after cooking them for the prescribed time, putting in the milk, butter, and cheese packet, it was more like cheese mush than Kraft Mac and Cheese. The good news is that it still tasted the same!
Candy Canes: I might be the only one who still has candy canes in October, but from previous experience, the worst thing that happens after this long is that they get a little gummy and stick to the wrapper. So imagine gummy canes! They look the same, but they are more flexible than Gumby! It is just weird.
Ziplock Bags: I am taking some liberty here because I am not sure how humidity would affect Ziplock bags, but the same bags that were functioning just fine before I left have been rendered ineffective now. Two days in a row as I have planned to safely seal something into a bag, the bottom has split open. The first was some beloved peanut brittle from Oregon that I was trying to protect from the humidity- I can only guess what would happen to it- the second was cauliflower, oil, and garlic! Let’s just say that makes quite a mess.
We are adjusting back to like in warm and humid Nicaragua, and we definitely do not need lotion!
So today, we sit in the house, listening to the rain outside and the rushing creek below. It is quiet! It seems that the town sleeps when the rain comes. The attendants at the grocery store were kind enough to make sure I had umbrella coverage for the trip to the car, and we are thankful that our new car is getting a wash!

We have been back in Nicaragua right around one week. In some ways if feels longer and others much shorter. When I think about the facts that we are back to paying $1.75 for a mealy apple and I know that in Oregon they are just about at perfection, I feel a long way away from the country of last week.
When I think about the fact that we may have taken one of our last required taxi rides because we bought a car this morning, it makes me feel closer to the US and what it represents. It represents people who openly cared for us over the past seven weeks. It represents answers to prayer, and conversations over coffee that helped me process the next steps. It represents gallons of Starbucks coffee and frozen yogurt choices with toppings. It represents people who listened and gave to us sacrificially. It represents God working in the hearts of people for others, and a certain fourth grade student who is willing to forego Christmas gifts so that families in Nicaragua can have clean water.
So the question we get on our return is “How was your time in the US?”. Of course words are not quite enough to explain it all, but it was wonderful in so many ways.
And people in the US ask us about how it is to be back, and of course words are not quite enough to explain it all. We were greeted with heat and a messy house, but we were also greeted with Americans and Nicaraguans who were glad to have us home. We were greeted with, “I’ve prayed for you every day you were gone, and I know this is going to be a better year for you”. We were greeted with five fellow Oregonians now in our Sunday fellowship. We were greeted with being honored guests at a piñata for some boys (think birthday party with a stick and children), and opportunities to pray and be united with fellow missionaries. And of course we were greeted with knowing that our little pool is available 24/7!
In just a few minutes, Stephen and I are going to hop into our new car (1999 Honda CRV), go buy bread, and then visit some friends! Life is Good!

September 3, 2014
We were reminded yesterday that we return to Nicaragua in three weeks- where has the time gone? I have thought about writing a blog many times, but so many wonderful things keep getting in the way- friends, food, fun, freedom!
I know I have done something like, “These are a few of my favorite things…”, but for America it would look different. Enjoying the cool sand of deserted beach, listening to Kutless on my MP3 and singing at the top of my voice… Going for a walk in the woods, smelling the firs, and enjoying a fleece jacket and cold fingers… Sitting across from _______ in Starbucks, getting to share and listen to the year’s stories unfold.
Let me tell you one of these stories.
One of the things that I knew I would need to do on returning to the US is sell my car. Every time this came up, it checked my emotions a bit. Technically it is metal and plastic, but for me it represents freedom, fun, and a physical tie to Oregon. By letting go of my car, it is the beginning of the goodbyes in Oregon, as well as, it makes what was a trial time in Nicaragua something a lot more permanent.
I feel like I am once again in that place of faith where I have to let go of one thing without seeing the next thing to grab onto. At this time that is being represented through two vehicles- one that I let go of, and one that we hope to purchase in Nicaragua. We don’t know what it is or where we will buy it, but we trust that God is going to answer those questions.
My parallel is my own faith in God’s leading; it is letting go here so that I can be there. It is something I want to do, but it is also hard to do that. I guess it is trying to find the balance of being able to be present in Nicaragua, dependent there, but still connected with the people here who are important. I am not sure how this all works.
We are so glad to be here in the US. We have been greatly blessed by so many people, and will make the most of the next three weeks!
PS: Remember that you are all invited to September 13th at 4 PM at my parent’s house or Cedar Mill Bible Church on September 14 at 12:30.