So I know that someone already wrote a blog about their experience in Nicaragua last year, but I’m going to write mine now because I’m feeling nostalgic. The summer after my senior year in high school, I went to Nicaragua with a friend’s church. We went with a group called Chosen Children. Chosen Children works with pastors in Nicaragua and brings teams from America for week-long trips. When you join a team and go on the trip, you give out food, do door-to-door evangelism, and sometimes build houses or bathrooms. I loved the experience so much that I went back the next year. After Nicaragua, I knew I’d never be the same.
The reason I’m bringing all of this up now is because I’m sitting on my bed wallowing in self-pity because this week is hell week. I look to my left and see two pictures that make my heart melt. I see one of the cutest little boys in the world, David, and his cousin, Steven. In one picture, David and Steven are holding up the silly bands I gave them. In the other, David is trying to grab the bubble I just blew at him. I was trying to catch David’s happiness and excitement on camera and I definitely did. It was clear that this was the first time David had ever seen a bubble. He is literally the most adorable little boy I have ever seen. I wanted to put him in my backpack and fly him back to America.
My first encounter with David was when my friend and I were rounding up all the kids for Bible
Camp. We held his hand the whole way there and tried to speak broken Spanish to him. We took the long way back to David’s house where the rest of the group was and when we got there, David was already there. He took the short cut and skipped out on Bible Camp. A kid after my own heart!
David’s whole family lives in the same “barrio.” A barrio is sort of like a Nicaraguan neighborhood. Instead of big brick houses and pine trees, though, these neighborhoods consist of houses that are about half the size of a dorm room. Most Americans probably wouldn’t even call them houses because they are essentially sticks that are covered in plastic. Because of its tropical climate, it rains almost every night in Nicaragua, so the families whose houses aren’t wrapped are out of luck.
The first year I went to Nicaragua, I was overwhelmed by the happiness that the Nicaraguan people had. These people have nothing. They have two bathrooms for the entire barrio, which can consist of more than 150 homes. They wear shoes that don’t match, any clothes that they can get their hands on, and have to scrounge for food every day. The typical Nicaraguan lives on less than 2 dollars a day. The women stay at home with the children while the men try to find work. Even homeless Americans have more luxuries and resources than the people that we met.
But somehow, despite all the hardship, they are the most thankful, graceful, and happy people I have ever met. Meeting David’s family, I could tell that they all really loved each other. I could tell that his parent’s did absolutely everything they could do provide for him and that their parents did the same, and their parents’ parents. Four generations of his family live in that barrio. No drama, no fighting, just love and support. True love seems to come easy when that’s all you have. They are not distracted by material items, time, or money.
Some days I look at that picture of David and wonder if he’s eaten today or if he’s gotten new clothes. I wonder how big he is and if he’s gotten to go to school. Whenever I’m stressed, I look at that picture and wonder if he’ll remember me when I go back, or if I he’s wearing the Virginia Tech shirts I left over there. Looking at that picture of David definitely puts things in perspective and reminds me that I am so extremely lucky.