Today has been, to put it mildly, a rough day. I am so excited to be in Nicaragua and with Jorge that I can barely stand it. I was wondering how to make myself not so antsy during my 2.5 hour flight from Miami to Managua. Well...
As I'm buckling up for my first flight from Orlando to Miami, I get a call from American Airlines telling me my next flight is canceled. It was just a courtesy message in which they say, "Your flight has been canceled. We apologize for any inconvenience". That's it. Then if you want to know more, you have to call back. Who doesn't want to know more? So I called and got through to a lady right before my flight took off, and she basically just said I needed to re-book once I landed. (There was a big fire here in Miami yesterday in the place where they store fuel, so there is a huge shortage, and yea... they canceled several flights.)
When I landed, I went straight to the "re-booking center", where I was in line for 3.5 hours. During this time, I went over to the little kiosk and saw that they had already booked me for tomorrow morning's flight at 11:00am. I also called American Airlines and was told the same thing and that I was also on standby for a flight at 7:00pm tonight, but that I still needed to wait at the counter because they had the most "up to date" information. Meanwhile, the counter lady keeps going up and down the line giving their 1-800 number out, asking people to call because "it will expedite the process", but when we called the number, they told us to wait in line.... you can see how insanely frustrating this all was for everybody involved.
Once I finally made it to the counter, you can imagine how tired, distraught and over all this I was, and yet I mustered up every ounce of politeness I could for the counter airline agent guy. I felt bad for these people because this wasn't their fault at all, and you can just imagine the type of angry customer they dealt with one after another. Well, this guy had just come on the scene one customer ahead of me, and was just starting his shift, so he had no idea about the frustration we had all been going through up to that point. He was extremely rude to me and basically just barked sarcasm at me until I sulked away. He told me absolutely nothing new except that oh yea, nobody knows where my bag is, and as he said, "The party line is that it will eventually end up where your final destination is, but nobody knows when". Hmmm. Well. And of course they're not giving any meal/hotel vouchers, because this was "not AA's fault". You can bet people did not have nice reactions to that message every time it was relayed.
(Since no men read this I can also throw in there that about two hours into waiting in line, I got my period. And all my tampons except two are in my checked bag. Which is nowhere to be found. So I had to go buy 4 for $4. Ridiculous.)
So by this time I was pretty sad. Not only did I have to wait in a 3.5 hour line for basically nothing, but it was 1:30 when I got out of the line, which is the exact time my flight should have been landing and I should have been with Jorge. So I at least got to skype with him a little bit and explain what happened (luckily I had caught him this morning right as he was about to leave for the airport to come get me) and it was nice to have the distraction for a while. He suggested we play games to put me in a better mood, and so I beat him at Hangman a bunch and then we played checkers, where he was about to beat me for the 100th time, so he quickly closed the game and said "Let's stop playing this. This was supposed to put you in a better mood :)."
I then went to get some grub, as I hadn't eaten all day. I had a delicious caesar salad and a slice of stuffed pizza. Then I decided to try to sleep for a little bit. It is waaaay too cold in airports for me, so laying still on the floor made me feel like I was going to freeze to death. Then it was about time to head to the gate for the 7:00 flight. I passed by a blanket/pillow kiosk and made a mental note that I would definitely need to buy a blanket if I was going to be in this for the long haul, because I spent the night at the Atlanta airport one night, and I couldn't sleep the entire night because I was too cold.
Then I sat through the entire boarding of that flight only to not get on, which was not a surprise at all, as they had overbooked the flight by four people and had to ask for volunteers to wait until tomorrow to fly. All this time, I was desperately trying to find a TV to watch the Gator basketball game, the one could-be highlight of the day, and I couldn't find one! Every TV was on, but I couldn't locate one with basketball. That is, until the game went into overtime and I saw a couple of TSA workers doing nothing, of course, except watching TV and shouting at it. I realized the game was on over there and went over just in time to see that last horrible minute, where they lost because they played dumb. That's when I decided this was officially A BAD DAY. As Jorge said, it's one of those days I'll always remember, and when someone says, "What was the worst day you've ever had?" and lots of people say, "I can't really remember one", I will definitely be able to think of one. (Although I cant' say this is the WORST day of my life. It's not been fun, but it could definitely be much, much worse.)
Then I decided it was time to start "settling down" for the night, so I went and bought a blanket, two bags of m&ms (each one says it's a "sharing size", but I still bought two :)), some beef jerky for Jorge, and a smoothie. (Just to add more dramatic flair to my day, when I was at the cash register ready to order my smoothie at Haagendaz, the worker said, "Who's next?" and this lady [in a missionary t-shirt, might I add] stepped right around me and ordered what she wanted! This other girl and I just stared at her, and I think had I not been so beaten down/spit on/kicked in the ass by these American Airlines people, I would have said something to her.) I have already spent an unbelievable amount of money at the airport today, but I decided these were essentials. I then, like a homeless person searching for the best spot under a dumpy old bridge, found where I will be hunkering down for the night: close to an outlet, TV, bookstore, bathroom, and Starbucks. I've got everything I'll need for the night :)
And now I leave you with what's been getting me through this difficult day:
I hear this from a lot of people. a lot. I usually respond with a sort of blank look and I say something generic and stale like, "The people are just so great, and the culture is amazing".
That's crap, just to be honest, because as I'm spouting out this by-now formulaic nonsense, behind my glazed-over look I'm seeing all the things I can't put into words. What do I love about Nicaragua? In Nicaragua, people LIVE. Nicaraguan people don't care about buying nice things for their house, about what they will wear the next day, or about how much money their friend makes. It's not considered lazy or unproductive if they spend their entire day washing clothes, cooking and enjoying their families. Nicaraguans are insanely hospitable, and family has a much broader meaning there than it does here. Nicaraguans will stop on the street to help a complete stranger, they will give their last bit of food to someone who has less, and they will walk miles to go pray with a sick friend. They will do all this while daily overcoming obstacles that would stop any of us in our tracks, and they'll do it all with a smile on their face.
Here are things that people say (or seem to want to say, but feel rude) when I talk to them about Nicaragua:
1. "They're probably only like that because they are so poor and have nothing else to do all day."/"They're only happy with so little because that's all they know."
2. "But they could get so much more done if they would learn how to be more like us."
3. "There's no hot water, they don't have fridges in their homes, they don't throw toilet paper in the toilet, and you STILL want to live there?"
4. "Are there even real roads in Nicaragua?'
5. "How could you live without air conditioning?"
Here's how I respond...
1. and?
2. Is "getting more done" better? Are we really doing so great?
3. YES!
4. Um... yes. Maybe broaden your horizons/vacation destinations a little.
5. Easy- I do it about 11 months out of the year anyway.
Sometimes I actually try to provide a heartfelt response that tries to convince them of the beauty of this overlooked country.
Sometimes I just smile and tell them that I am n
ot like them, that I thank God that he opened my heart and allowed this love to grow in me, and that I think it is all beautiful. Every last bit of it.
Obviously, Nicaragua is "behind" the US. They take longer to do everything, they do most things in (what seems to us) bizarre, wacky ways, they are much poorer, they aren't as technologically savvy, they are "simpler", and they don't plan things out very far ahead of time. From practically the moment I stepped off a plane in July 2005, I fell in love with all of these things.
But riddle me this: If Nicaraguans are so "behind" us, why are their people so much more able to love each other purely and completely than we are? Why are they able to live every day in faith in ways we only dream about and talk about? Why do they seem so much happier than we, as a country, do? Why are they so much more full of joy living with so little than we are living in a world of plenty?
P.S. I practically wore out my delete key with this one. I've never had such a hard time putting thoughts into words. I suppose it because it's incredibly difficult to take seven years' worth of thoughts and to compile them into a few neat and tidy paragraphs. I so badly wish I could just let you in to catch a small glimpse of what I see when I close my eyes, because it.is.breathtaking.
P.P.S. I know there are MANY other places in the world where you can find this kind of love, hospitality and joy in every day life. I just haven't been to them. That's why God had me go to Nicaragua. I could have fallen in love with many other places, I'm sure, but my heart belongs in Nica, so there it shall be.
P.P.P.S. I also know that our country is absolutely beautiful and I am extremely proud to be an American (cue Lee Greenwood now). I never, ever forget that I was blessed by being born in a country full of opportunity and freedom that produces amazing individuals every day. I am the person I am because of how and where I grew up. Please don't take away from this that I am one of those, "Screw the USA; I've been so spoiled by my upbringing that I now refuse to even recognize the merit of living in this country". Not at all. I just want people to open their eyes and see the world around them. There is so, so much more to this world than us and our ways of life. And it's not all bad.
For those of you who are like "Who is Jorge and when did all this happen anyway?", here is a lengthy recap. (Seriously, lengthy - I won't mind at all if you just stop reading now. Hey, I warned you.) I didn't mention anything about Jorge when I came back in the summer, because I didn't want to take away at all from the beautiful trip and the amazing things God did through all of us there, and because I wasn't sure where this would all take me... and now I feel like many important people in my life need to hear this story, because I'm not sure when they will get to meet him in person.
In summer of 2010, I spent about four weeks in Nica, which is normal for me. I was working with the same group I always go with, Sharon Baptist Church, from a rural area about an hour south of Atlanta. We work with the Iglesia Bautista Bethel down in Chinandega, and have now for about 5 years. The first day I was there was a Thursday, which means church day. I went with Liza and Karla, and at that service I noticed a guy that I had never seen before. It's not strange for there to be new people I don't know, but usually they are elderly. Jorge was sitting on a bench on the side of the church near the front, where Freddy usually sits when he translates the services when the gringo group is down. I still remember that he was wearing a white and blue checkered long-sleeved shirt and jeans, and what drew my attention is the way he looked when his eyes were closed and he was singing. It was beautiful, and I think it would have drawn anyone's attention - that look of devotion and happiness. Anyway, over the next week I saw him here and there, and then the group came down, and we started working on bible schools, eyeglass clinics, medical clinics, Sunday school, etc. and he was around a lot helping out. We were introduced and always around each other, but we didn't really talk up to this point. I didn't know what it was that had me so drawn to him, but I always wanted to be around him. I found myself gravitating towards him all the time, yet we barely spoke. I kept asking God why this was, as it seemed ridiculous to think that I was going to "meet somebody" in Nicaragua. I had joked about it lots of times, but it wasn't practical to think of it actually happening!
On Friday, the 9th of July, a group from Indiana was coming in, and I was elected as the gringo to go on the bus to welcome them. About 15 of the Nicaraguans came as well, to help with luggage and to be the welcoming party. About halfway through the ride I decided it was time to talk to this guy and get some stuff figured out, like why I didn't stop thinking about him. I was already sitting behind him and Moises, and I just struck up a conversation with him by asking if it was true that he had a daughter. I had heard this somewhere and wasn't sure. He told me yes, that he has two, and then in my head I immediately asked what in the world I was doing wasting time thinking about this guy. I never imagined myself with somebody that had two kids already! We went on to talk for a while and he explained the situation to me, and I was drawn in once again. I just felt like God was telling me not to write anything off, just to wait and see.... but I was skeptical, to say the least.
I was supposed to leave that next Wednesday, July 14th, but had extended my ticket to stay until the 19th. However, that Tuesday night at church, many people still thought I was leaving the next day, including Jorge. He came up to me and asked me for my email address, which I gave to him. Then he asked if I was leaving the next day, and I told him that I had actually changed my ticket and was staying. He just smiled and walked away, as we had just about reached our quota of what seemed to be the allowable words per day between the two of us.
That Friday, the gringo group took a huge group of Nicaraguans to the beach and out to a nice dinner to thank them for all of their help throughout our many activities, and for always treating us like brothers and sisters. We spent the day swimming, playing soccer (not me, of course), and eating delicious food. At the end of the night, the bus ride home was pretty quiet because everybody was exhausted. Liza, my usual bus-mate, was up in the front sitting with Freddy, so I was alone. Jorge asked if he could come sit next to me to look at the pictures on my camera. I showed them to him, and then he (finally) started a conversation about us. He told me that he had basically been feeling the same things I had been (he just didn't know it at the time), and he couldn't make sense of it either, since it seemed so impractical for him to fall for me or for me to fall for him. Then he just looked at me, waiting for a response. It was actually a beautiful conversation and the first of many where we spoke very frankly and openly, laying it all out there.
Our conversation was cut short when we reached my hotel for me to be dropped off, and I told him I would see him the next day and we'd pick back up where we left off. That day the group went to Leon and I didn't end up seeing him until the end of the day, when some of the men from the group wanted to play basketball with the Nicaraguans, and Hannah, Liza and I went to watch them. Jorge didn't say two words to me and I thought that maybe I had imagined all the stuff we said the day before. When they finished playing basketball, we all got back on the bus and it dropped us off at the gringo's hotel. I got out and decided to walk the four or so blocks back to my hotel. It was decided that Jorge would walk me back to my hotel, and then we were able to continue the conversation from the night before. It was my turn to talk and I told him all the things I was thinking, and how I am a very practical and serious person, and I wasn't looking for some boyfriend or for any sort of fun Nicaraguan fling (I didn't know this at the time, but he had been talking to Liza about me and she had already told him this). We reached my hotel and decided that that night after church we would hang out. That night he came with me to the other group's hotel to hear Lito and Freddy give their testimonies and to hang out with them, as it was their last night and the big group was leaving the next morning (I still had one more day). It was a great time, but I felt my time quickly running out, and we hadn't had a chance to talk any more about us. Afterward, Jorge walked me back to my hotel and it was decided that I would go watch him play baseball the next morning. I remember that I spent a lot of time in prayer that night asking God what in the world he wanted with us, and why I felt this pull towards Jorge. I felt a comfort with him that I don't normally feel with people; I felt like I needed him in my life.
That morning we went to church at 7:00 (yes, early!) and it started to rain, so the baseball game was canceled, which probably worked to our benefit. Instead we went to the park and sat at a table for a while, and Jorge poured out his whole life story to me. He is proof that God truly changes people from the inside out. Jorge was basically a hoodlum before, and was into drugs and drinking at a very young age. He had a rough lifestyle and was basically a kid hanging out on the streets, stirring up trouble at every turn. He was with a woman for several years and has two little girls from this relationship, as I mentioned earlier. He got invited to a retreat and went just to be able to get away, although he had no interest in God. He was raised Catholic, like most Nicaraguans, and regularly attended mass, but he had no concept of a God that wanted a personal relationship with him. He met Jesus at that retreat, and his life changed. He says he felt loved for the first time in his life, and he finally knew what all those people meant when they talked about a loving father God. He cleaned up his act and eventually ended up leaving his girlfriend, and moved back into his house with his family.
That was about three years ago. He started attending a church that is pretty far from his house (it's actually near Villa Catalina, for those of you who get the reference). Then about a year ago, he was invited to Bethel Baptist Church (the church we work with) and tried it out, as his house is about five houses down the street from it, and the rest is history. (More on this later.)
I had to go then, and spend some time with Liza and Freddy, since it was my last day there. We agreed to hang out that night. He came over to my hotel and we talked more about ourselves and our life stories, and somewhere in the mix we forgot to ever talk about what was going to happen when I left (which was about 5 hours away, at this point). We said goodbye and I was left feeling more confused than ever, but I had no time to dwell on it because I was being picked up in about an hour to head to Managua and hadn't packed my stuff yet.
The whole way to Managua I wondered what in the world God had in store for me. (The whole decision of wanting to move down there had happened pretty much in the first week I was there, but the two concepts were not at all connected for me). I had a long day of traveling, and I spent it quietly pondering what was supposed to happen with me.
That night, Jorge texted me to see how my flight was, and then he called me, and we figured it was time to have a real talk about what was going to happen with us now that I was gone (about 24 hours too late). We decided that we believed God had something in mind for us and that we were going to 'be together', if only in spirit, and see this through. And now I can very honestly say, 8 months later, that we had no idea what was in store for us, or how much we'd grow to love each other.
My school year was about to start, but all I could think about was my life in Nicaragua, and these huge decisions I had been making for my life, and how my heart was just not here anymore. And then when I thought about Jorge, I decided I needed to go back down there so we could have more time together and figure some stuff out. So I booked my ticket for September 3rd. I had never taken more than two days in a row off work, and this was going to be 5 school days! That scared me, but I believed this was really important.
There were still about 7 weeks between the two trips, though. We had to learn how to have a relationship over the phone (We hadn't discovered the wonderfulness of Skype yet), and it was definitely difficult. Neither of us has ever really loved talking on the phone, but as this was our only mode of communication, we spent hours every day learning more about each other and figuring out how to be together, apart.
The trip in September confirmed everything for me, that this was for real. We spent a wonderful week together, with some more very frank conversations, and decided we should try to get him a visitor's visa to come meet my friends and family. However, as time went on, we knew that his chances of being accepted were slim and probably worse right before major holiday time, so we decided that I would go down again in December, and spend Christmas and the new year with him. It was really hard to tell my mom that I was going to miss Christmas with my family for the first time, and things were already really strained with us ever since I got back in the summer and told her I felt God wanted me to move to Nicaragua.
The rest is well, history. We have spent countless hours on the phone and on Skype (we figured out how to use it while I was there in September and it has been a huge blessing ever since), and have cherished every moment we've been able to have together, in September, December and January.
I have been amazed at how beautiful this whole thing really is, this "us" thing. We have both had to make sacrifices in order to put the time and effort necessary into making this work, we have had to learn how to communicate well, how to sense each others' needs through words and through intonation; we have learned how to be together, apart. We have learned how to overcome language and cultural barriers at times. We have learned how two very independent people can come together and need each other.... and we have learned that there are crazier things in this world than two people from different countries falling in love with each other. And trust me, it has not been easy and it definitely has not been without effort. We have worked extremely hard to make this relationship work, all the while trying to make sure it is God focused. We both so badly want to remain in God's will, and have honestly and earnestly sought God's guidance in making decisions about 'us'.
This week, Jorge's request for a visa was turned down. We were hoping he would be able to come visit for a good length of time and meet my family and friends, not to mention, spend time with me! However, God obviously has different plans for us. We spent the days before the interview talking about how we would react either way, good or bad, and how we truthfully believe that God has a wonderful plan for our benefit, and that we have to trust in Him. We read Philippians 4:6-7, which talks about not worrying, but rather presenting our requests to God in prayer, with thanksgiving, and that we did. We knew the rest was in His hands. Although I would have LOVED a more favorable (for us) response, I believe the beauty of this situation comes in praising God and saying how good he is, and actually believing that he is so good, despite a big disappointment.
I am headed back down to my favorite place on March 26th for ten days for my spring break (I will also get to spend his birthday with him, which is neat). It will have been 76 days since we have seen each other. (Last time it was exactly 100.) We will do our best to appreciate every second we'll have together in those ten days, (I've gotten really good at "cherishing the moment") and we'll talk about what will happen next. It is always about that 'next time', and hopefully soon there won't have to be a next time.
I don't ever claim to know what God is thinking (or even doing, really), but sometimes it's so interesting to sit back and look at how the different areas and times in your life weave together to create a masterpiece so intricate that only God could have orchestrated it all. For instance, lots of people have said something to the effect of, "Wow, it's so weird that you didn't meet Jorge until your 8th trip down there, especially when he lives just a few houses down from the church!". My response is always to share with them that there are several reasons it would not have worked out beneficially for us to meet back then, including the following: My Spanish was horrible until a few years ago and I would never have been able to maintain a relationship in my second language; Jorge was a very different person for some of those years and was not walking with God and definitely not someone I would have been interested in; I spent most of 2003 until 2008 really becoming comfortable with myself and learning to know myself very well. I needed that time alone. Also, in that time of my life, I never would have been able to maintain a relationship with this distance. I see now why I never met him before, although he lives just five houses down from the church where I have spent so much time over the past five years...
I don't honestly know what is next. That is scary, but that's also life. God has a plan though, of that I'm certain, and it's one that is beneficial for me and so much better than anything I could think of or imagine. And about 1,150 miles away in Chinandega, Nicaragua, there is a dude who believes the same thing. (There are probably several, actually, but you know...). So I will go down there in 20 days, and I will spend as much time as possible with the man that I believe God picked out for me long ago. I'll be grateful for those ten precious days, and I'll trust God that someday I'll have much more than ten days at a time.
