The last day was a short and a long day which ended a short and a long week appropriately. We worked physically, emotionally, and spiritually to exhaustion, and we are aware of what God can do when we decrease and he increases.
Through the day we either painted or poured cement, or removed platano trees from the ground. Taking rest only during lunch, despite the tedium of painting, the arduousness of forming casts and pouring cement, and the physical devastation accrued by the digging, carrying, and dragging of trees---despite all of it there were no moments of contention or hostility. In fact, we noted that spirits seemed even higher towards the end of labor than at the beginning.
Our evening festivities varied greatly. The orphans demonstrated a dance for us via two little nina’s dolled up in traditional garb, led us in Spanish versions of the worship songs that we know well, and helped us to act out the parable of the farmer dropping seeds on different types of ground. Saying “goodbye” was not quick or fun or easy, and there’s really not too much to say about it. It’s just hard to say goodbye to real people with real eyes and real emotions and real hopes.
When the orphans had left, a UVA grad who’s been working on feeding Nicaraguans since she graduated four years ago, spoke to us about her experiences. One of the stories that she told us was about two little girls and her own leftover food. She was at one of the most recent feeding centers to be funded and she had finished her own food, but had some left over. Our speaker had seen a little girl who had missed the meal, so she offered the little girl her own leftovers. The little girl took the food and passed it along to her little sister. When our speaker asked her what she would eat, the little girl said, “My sister is smaller than me. She needs it more.” And our speaker pointed out to us the truth that had haunted her so strongly: While she had given her leftovers to someone who was hungry, someone who was hungry had given everything to someone else. And our speaker asked us if we are giving out of our surplus, out of our leftovers, or if we are giving everything.
Our William & Mary group moved to the more rustic porch area, sung familiar worship songs in a familiar language, and then Evan told us a story as well. His story was about the walls that past pains can construct. He told us about some hurt and anger that he had experienced in his own life, and then how those things had been conquered when he allowed God to fight them. He reminded us of Gideon, who we’ve been studying, and how he was given victory in a way that only God could be glorified. Evan said that the victories over his own enemies were won in much the same way. He reminded us that bringing down the walls of un-forgiven grievances can be a method of decreasing ourselves so that He might increase. He told us that we will be going out into the world, and that we will be going differently into it than we came from it, (if we let allow ourselves to be), and that as we go we should go as light. They passed candles out to each of us, we lit them, and then we walked with our candles and solitarily contemplated the walls, His power, and what it means to be light.
We have become very close with one another while we’ve been here, and we have become very close to those who we’ve been serving while we’ve been here, and we’ve resolved to turn our desires for our own stories over in favor of a desire for a place in His. A lot has happened in each of our lives, which is why what has been posted has been in the 2nd person. Each of our stories is ours to tell, and we’re excited to tell them. And we’re also excited to see you. Thank you for the ways that you have supported us. We’ll see you soon.
