by Martha June

Nicaragua has been on my mind.

I haven’t lived there in over two years, yet it feels like the experience was both yesterday and another life ago.

So much changed in me during that short trip. Physically, and mentally, and so much changed when I returned home. On a previous short trip to the country, I was told by Ann, a missionary there “We always have 20/20 vision from behind”.

My own vision hasn’t been 20/20 since second grade, but my heart’s vision has finally focused enough for my perspective to sharpen.

My fellow interns and I were scheduled to go on an “extreme trip” to a remote Nicaraguan village in July of 2017.

This was about 1.5 months into my 2.5 month stay.

The trip was to last a couple of days and required an hour plane ride inland, a five hour “bus ride,” and a 15-30 minute boat ride to reach a people group known as the Miskitu. They are a nomadic people group living and working alongside the river. They speak their own language and they experience (and continue to experience) a tension between themselves and the native Nicaraguans.

The ministry where I worked is Harvest Initiative, and their goal is to spread the gospel of Jesus Christ while focusing on education and community development. The purpose of this “extreme trip” was to share the Jesus Film with the Miskitu people in their own language.

By extreme, I mean one change of clothes, little or no possibility of showering, and a small amount of our own food and toilet paper…just in case you can’t find any anywhere else. Honestly, it’s what books are made of, people!

The night before we were to take a boat to the village, I got sick.

(Much later, after I returned home, we found out I had gotten a parasite).

That night was pretty painful. Stomach pain kept me up most of the night.

The next morning we shoved off in the boat up the river and I felt that stomach pain again.

Not five minutes later, I was laying on my side in pain on the bottom of that wood boat.

Let’s just say that once we got to the village, I was placed in a hammock, and slept for most of the day. That is, if I could stay out of their outhouse long enough.

The Miskitu’s houses are on stilts due to their proximity to the river, and at the time we were there, the river was at flood stage.

I do not know if Pedro, our driver, knew what was going on with me, or if he just saw a need and met it, but he gave me his rubber boots to wear as I went to and from the outhouse, so my feet would not get all muddy.

Kindness does not need to have a common language. I will be grateful to him for that kindness always.

Side note: his feet are WAY bigger than mine. But it was fine.

Because of how I felt, the trip barely lasted 12 hours. Our leader Marcus showed the Jesus Film, and soon after that, we left.

Upon returning to Tipitapa, the interns and I went to stay about two hours away with Marcus and his family in the mountains. My first night there I had a 103 degree fever, and had covered myself in blankets to try to stay warm and control my chills.

The sickness effected my appitite, my motivation, my emotional stability, and almost everything else. I was alert enough to communicate, but looking back, the whole week feels like a blur.

As the week drew to a close, I recovered enough to go “back” to Tipitapa. School would be starting within the next couple of days, and I had been asked to teach English to second and third graders.

I was so nervous for school to start. The only “teaching” experience I had ever had was being a Sunday school leader for children. (With a lesson plan that was given to me!)

I did not feel 100 % yet, and I had no idea where to even start preparation.

I prayed that God would just take over, because this was definitely not a strength of mine. Spanish was coming in little spurts, but there was no “click” for me with that language.

My first night back in TIpitapa, I spent an evening face-timing my dad.

I remember telling him how nervous I was, and all of the fear that I was letting control my thoughts.

We had a conversation I will never forget.

He told me this story.

“Marguerite Higgins won a Pulitzer prize for reporting her conversation with an army sergeant in Korea during the Korean conflict. Fifteen thousand of our soldiers had been dug in for several weeks, facing more than one hundred thousand Chinese Communist soldiers on the other side of the mountain.

They had been shooting at each other for weeks. The temperature had gotten down at times to 43 degrees below 0. For weeks they had been living on frozen K rations, unable to bathe, unable to shave. They just sat there day after day, freezing and miserable, thinking that today might be their day to die.

Marguerite Higgins climbed to the top of the hill with her notebook and pencil to interview the soldiers. She went from one to another until she came to this tough old army sergeant. She posed the question to him, ‘If I were God, and if I could give you anything you wanted, what would you ask for?”

That army sergeant replied, “I’d ask for tomorrow”.

(Here is the link for that story)

My dad paused a moment, letting that response sink in.

He told me to do the same, reminding me that God is my strength.

“I lift my eyes up to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.” Psalm 121

Often I look to my own strength, what is in my power to accomplish. Something in me, call it pride or stubbornness (or both) wants to prove “I can do it!” The thing is, I can only “do” so much before I make a mistake. Shocker, I cannot do it all. Not even close.

Up until the point of being sick, I had relied on what I could “do”.

After listening to that story, I was convicted.

After all, wasn’t it God who allowed me to come to Nicaragua, and wasn’t it him who provided for every need I had and then some?

Whether I was sick or healthy, I could trust Him.

Whether I was fluent in Spanish or not, I could trust Him.

Whether I was struggling with insecurity or was confident in my ability, I could trust Him.

I could trust Him.

He would give me strength for tomorrow.

And He did.

And He continues to.

With God’s help I taught that English class.

I met some precious, precious children.

Those sweet kids taught me more in those few shorts weeks than I have words for in English or Spanish (haha).

They helped me find my footing and taught me Spanish!

God gave me 26 friends between the ages of 7 and 8, and they were so much fun!

I also met some incredible teachers who always greeted me with a smile and a hug.

(They also laughed at me a lot, because, again, I would say the wrong thing. I once asked the principle “Where is yesterday?” That conversation was hilarious later. Haha.)

Those friends introduced me to their friends, parents, siblings, and children.

All of a sudden, something beautiful began to happen when I trusted God to be the Big Picture Man.

I began to see the joy in stepping out of my comfort zone and releasing whatever control I thought I had on my life to God’s hands.

I realized I did not have to conjure up strength on my own. That was God’s job and I could rest in his strength.

That is a lesson I do not want to forget.

The reality is, I still need to be reminded to look to God for strength in any and every moment.

Every. Single. Day.

I am still asking for tomorrow.

Trust is not a one time lesson, but a continual choice to surrender what I think is best to God’s best.

In the end I am thankful for the lesson I learned while being sick.

I also learned that parasites are not a joke. I got home from Nicaragua and spent a couple of months in and out of doctors’ offices getting blood work done. I also lost 20 + pounds. Eventually, the bug died.

I want to be clear, though, I would not change any of it. God used it all.

Sincerely,

MJKT

P.S. When I got home I did not want to talk about being sick, I thought somehow it would degrade what happened while I was there. Since coming home, I have had a perspective change with that sickness. It was the greatest opportunity I had to just trust God. While that might be underwhelming for the “clincher” of that trip. I needed to learn to let go.