Posted in Nicaragua by Shawndell St John on 5/15/2012
Journal entry from January 25th of this year, shortly after arriving in Nicaragua:
"Hey Daddy (yes, this is how I pray),
What do you call me? I know that you have so many names for me and you have called me Baby Girl, Beautiful Daughter, My Delight, My Bride.... But what is the name that you call me by?"
Journal entry 1/25/12
Isaiah 62:2 says: "The nations shall see your righteousness, and all the kings your glory, and you shall be called by a new name that the mouth of the Lord will give."
FEARLESS was my new name.
Fast forward to May 6th of this year, just one short week ago.
I had been given the opportunity to do a speed painting in front of the church at New Song in Nicaragua, where I would paint a picture within the course of a song. I had never done this before, but I knew God was asking me to step out of my comfort zone. The song was "Explode my soul," by Jonathan and Melissa Helser. And it was my turn to be on stage.
I stared at the blank white sheet of wood in front of me. I had been preparing for several weeks, going over the mental picture in my head, what I would do at what part of the song. But as I stood staring at the canvas in front of me, my back to the congregation, I surrendered.
"God, I trust you. Whatever happens, I give it to you. I ask that the heart of this song and the message of this painting will speak to people, but it doesn't even matter what it looks like or how people respond. DO YOUR WORK in the spiritual realm, BREAK CHAINS from these people and this country. I don't even care what the finished product looks like. DO YOUR WORK."
As the music started, suddenly everything happened so fast. My fingers were moving so quickly, but lacking any of the clumsy jitters of nervousness. In blue paint across the white I scribbled the words in Spanish: "Las palabras de Dios son siempre verdaderas," translating into: "The promises of God are always true." Even when I knew I spelled a word wrong in Spanish, I knew it was ok. I felt such freedom smearing the white paint into the blue with my fingers, allowing God to move.
Even as I dipped my fingertips into black paint and traced the human form, it was like the paint knew exactly where it needed to go. I felt no hesitation. No fear. As the music built, I could feel the Spirit building, and when the music broke I broke chains of black with the swipe of white paint on my hands. With the chain broken, the song exploded and I began throwing paint at the canvas, all the colors I had. Explotar mi alma con alabanza. Explode my soul with praise.
I wiped my hands on my pants and walked to the back of the church. As I sat down on the floor, my back to the wall, I felt the Holy Spirit so thick and heavy. I knew I had been obedient and his work was being done in the spiritual realm, no matter what the painting looked like. I had done what he had asked, and he delighted in me.
Whitney came and prayed over me, speaking into everything that God had done and was doing through the painting. She prayed over what he was doing in my life.... She recognized the personal message of freedom reflected in the painting, the brokenness that I was walking through. She told me: "I had prayed that God would begin to break the chains in your life like in the painting, but he stopped me to say: 'I already have. I have already freed her.'" So she prayed MORE freedom over me.
There was a pause in her prayer. And just when I thought it couldn't get any better, it did.
"I don't know why," she said, "but God said to tell you that you are FEARLESS."
The same name that he had spoken over me 3 months before. Those words were the stamp, the mark, of the work that God had been doing in my heart for 3 months. The work that he had completed in me.
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Posted in Nicaragua by Shawndell St John on 5/1/2012
When I left on this trip, we had 11 young adults varying in age from 18 to 22 years old. I pictured myself as a youth group leader, hopefully with slightly less of the "ssshhhhhhh"-ing during a church service.
I never pictured myself turning into a MOM.
I didn't realize it was happening until I had already begun the transition. I mean, as a leader you are answering questions every day about every subject, so that started day 1. Travel days, making sure everybody is together and accounted for and nobody gets lost. But it was several weeks in when the following scenario took place that I realized how quickly the change happened:
Haille: (walking into the bathroom) Shawndell? Shawndell??
Shawndell: (from the shower) What Haille?
Haille: Is it cool if we watch the rest of the movie? Do we have team stuff to do?
Shawndell: I don't know... Go ask Ryan.
And as I was scrubbing the suds out of my hair, I laughed out loud. I had totally just pulled the "go ask dad" card.
It went downhill quickly from there, when a day or two later I was waiting in the truck to head to ministry and I watch Haille approaching, her mind in her own little world.
"Haille, Haille honey..... HAILLE, you need shoes on to go to ministry."
After that, the everybody on the team started calling me Mom:
"Mom, can Amy and I go the grocery store today?"
"Mom, what time is family time?"
"Mom, my stomach hurts."
"Mom said we can have a movie night!!!"
And I catch myself saying things that only confirm the steady shift to motherhood:
"Marcus, please don't kill yourself."
"Josh, NO MORE CANDY!"
"I asked you to go GET Josh. If I wanted to yell for him, I could have done that."
"I refuse to repeat myself one more time."
"I know you don't like tea, but I promise it will help your throat feel better."
"..... 6, 7, 8, 9, ...... Who are we missing?"
Those are just a few of the symptoms I have recognized within myself. I have also heard medical advice worthy of any mom standards coming out of my mouth, and I've wondered: "Where did that come from? Cause that sounds legit!" Being woken up in the middle of the night to pray for stomach pains and stroking hair while waiting to see the doctor feels natural to me. And the evil eye... Well, let's just say I've got that down pat.
But I recognize the mom most in myself when I think of my "kids" with pride: hearing Allegra share the song she wrote, having Lindsey and Kacie ask to start their own women's Bible study, seeing Nay-nay pick up the guitar again, enjoying when Josh and Marcus teach and preach, listening to Haille lead worship and watching Amy light up on the dance floor. My heart rejoices to think about how I have seen each of them grow in the last 4 months, the confidence that they have exploded into and the love that they share for one another. Even as we begin debriefing in our last week here in Nica, I have loved hearing them share stories and listen to them calling out how each person has grown and changed since they met at Training Camp.
They are not the same.... And neither am I.
The team at New Song Mission for evening service, along with some of our many Nicaraguan friends
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Posted in Nicaragua by Shawndell St John on 4/17/2012
As I'm typing this, I can hear the pounding of the first
storm of the rainy season and the rain as it thunders on the tin roof of our
building.
And even as I sit here, I feel
refreshed.
Rain has always had a magical influence on me, symbolizing
something powerful and majestic. I loved
the rainy season growing up in Arizona.
August is burning hot, no relief from the temperature and humidity....
Until you see that wall of gray in the distance. That rolling clap of thunder, that sweet
scent that hangs temptingly in the air and the hope that comes with it. Hope that, even if only for an hour or so,
there will be a break from the heat.
Hope that I can feel the fresh coolness on my face. Hope that my spirit will receive the same
relief that my skin rejoices in.
I feel that hope rising up in me now as I soak in the
favorite smell and drumming sounds of the rain.
The weather has been dry for several months, not a drop of rain. In this season, it has been really easy to
compare the dry season of weather to the thirst in my spirit. Hopelessness, exhaustion and just plain being
worn out... In the dry season, it is easy to imagine that it will never end. As I hear the rain starting to plink on the
roof, the analogy becomes too real to stay inside. I can't help myself, I have to be in it. So I immerse myself in that hope, willing
that refreshing to soak through my skin, through the layers of flesh and bone,
and into my soul that is so thirsty for refreshing. I sit in the downpour and close my eyes. The waves of rain hit my face and soak my
clothes; I can't get enough of it.
When was the last time I did that in the Spirit? Just sat there, willing him to soak me to my
marrow with the refreshing of his love?
The dry season in my spirit has been really difficult here... troubling
news from my family back home, the constant struggle to be honorable in
communication, sickness and injury to myself and to the team and always the
battle against fear taking root and killing my faith. My friend Yahaira gave me this quote in
Spanish today: "Deja que tu sonrrisa cambie el mundo, no que el mundo cambie tu
sonrrisa." The translation? "Let your smile change the world, don't let
the world change your smile." If we let
circumstances or feelings define our lives and attitude, where is our faith? As I sat there in the rain, I pictured myself
as the roads here in Nicaragua: parched, dry footpaths, covering the feet of
those who pass that way in layers of dust.
And the rain just soaks those roads, settling the dust and debris,
awakening the trails of green that follow.
Rain brings hope, hope for a change and a new season; a hope
for refreshing. As I type this, the sun
is peaking out from behind the clouds and the golden rays are shining across my
fingers on the keyboard.
I have hope.
Have you found yours?
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Posted in Nicaragua by Shawndell St John on 3/9/2012
If you guys are on Facebook, I'm sure some of you heard about my little misadventure with my foot two weeks ago. If you haven't, let me fill you in.....
AFTER
For those of you that know me, it may come as a shock to find out that this exceedingly graceful and coordinated girl should break her foot playing soccer (I hope you caught the sarcasm there). The story really isn't that interesting, suffice it to say I will be more careful when trying to learn new tricks next time I'm playing soccer. Turns out the human foot doesn't fold very well.
Through this experience, I have learned a lot. Here are a few:
- Think you get stared at a lot when you are a gringa? Try being a gringa hobbling on crutches.
- Plastic bags tied over your cast DEFINITELY don't work when you go swimming.
- If you want to be real cool, try out the newest fashion.... One leg tan, the other leg white.
- I bet you didn't know the translation of the song "La Cucaracha" goes as follows:
| Spanish | English |
| La cucaracha, la cucaracha, |
The cockroach, the cockroach, |
| ya no puede caminar |
can't walk anymore |
| porque le falta, porque le falta |
because it's lacking,
because it's lacking |
| las dos patitas de atrás. |
the two little feet from the rear. |
Yeah, now that the local kiddos think it is a suitable song to sing to me, I know it REAL well.
- Crutches make for excellent long range weapons of mass bruising.
Those are just a few of the lessons I have learned since breaking my foot. But along the more serious lines, God has used this as an opportunity to teach me humility. Since my mobility has been impaired, I have asked for more help and special favors than I ever have in my entire life. Now, I am more than willing to serve people in the simplest of ways, but to ask for help in something I have always done myself? Impossible. Except now I can't even carry a stack of books on my own from one room to another... My hands are kinda full with the crutches. I've had to learn to be honest about what I need, and to be honest with how I'm feeling physically, instead of just saying, "I'm fine!". It's been incredibly frustrating not being able to walk as fast as the group, or not being able to carry my own bag and it's been incredibly humbling learning how to be honest about my needs. And yet, my team has continued to honor me by tirelessly serving in the little things, and even going above and beyond to make sure I'm taken care of.
My broken foot has also been revealing to me my stubborn nature: "I can do it!" Just the other day, I was tired of watching the team work, and I stubbornly found a job I felt that I could do. I mean, I can stand on my foot now without pain, so surely I can stand to paint metal beams perfectly fine? Kacie decided to go all "mom" on me, telling me that I needed to rest, that it was not good for me to stand for a long time.... She even had the wagging finger going on. Let me just say, I responded much like a stubborn, bull-headed little girl (that was for you Lucas) and insisted on doing the job. Later, when my foot was swollen and sore and my ankle hurting from the unusual strain, I had to take back my words and apologize for my attitude to Kacie. I'm learning that just because I CAN do something, doesn't mean I NEED to.
But it has truly been a sweet learning experiencing. Once I have been able to swallow my pride long enough to let others honor and serve me, I have been amazed my the incredible things I've seen and ways I have been loved. On our travel days to debrief and back, Kacie made sure she was always behind me, no matter how slow I was hobbling: "I've got your back" she informed me confidently. And I always knew she did. That same day, I had a Nicaraguan man assist me down the last step of a bus, but rather than holding my hand so I could hop to the ground awkwardly onto my good foot, he lifted my by my waist, setting me gently on the ground. I felt so honored and respected. Last night, I missed dinner with the team, and Ryan (though he was fasting), made sure my plate was made and heated up and stayed to talk and finally do the dishes when I was finished. Never have I been served so completely.
And only with humility, crutches and a broken pie (foot) have I been able to experience all of this.
"We wouldn't be Team Pies Hermosos without you and your broken pie (foot)!"
- a note from Allegra
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Posted in Nicaragua by Shawndell St John on 2/25/2012
"Would you rather know that you are loved, accepted or
important?"
I was posed this question two weeks ago, and it has been on
my mind ever since. Allegra was the one
who asked the question, and she followed it quickly with: "I bet I know which
one it is. I think you probably would
want to know that you are important." I
knew that the question was much deeper than my environment would let me think
at that moment, so I shrugged it off.
"I'm not so sure... I'm gonna have to get back to you on that one."
Well I've been thinking about it since. Growing up, Allegra's guess probably would
have been my answer: I wanted to know that I was important. I sought every position of responsibility
available to me to prove that I was important, that I was valuable. I was a Sunday School teacher, babysitter,
tutor, worship leader, youth group leader, treasurer and anything else that
seemed like a way to confirm that I was needed.
Somehow though, those positions never seemed to grant me the
satisfaction of recognition that was motivating all of the hard work. Sometimes I would get that special
acknowledgment and a thank you that filled me up for a moment, but the second the
spotlight turned away, it seemed hollow and empty.
But there was also a phase when all I wanted was to be
accepted by those around me. My whole
hearted desire was to have "my people".
For me, it was never a wrong crowd or those with questionable morals...
But it could have been. I came to the
realization of my need for acceptance on my World Race, and it was the
threshing floor of my brokenness throughout the duration of the trip. I constantly felt the desire to be accepted
to a particular group or friendship, thinking that if I was closer to so-and-so
or if I was a part of their prayer group, then that would be the secret to
feeling like I belonged, that I was accepted.
It never worked. As I fed that
need for acceptance, the hole just kept getting deeper and deeper, it was never
full and I was never satisfied.
I remained broken in that for a long time.
Now, God is bringing me to the pinnacle, and I recognize my
answer to the question: Above all else,
I want to know that I am loved. And as I
walked through my desire to be important and my need to be accepted, so now I
recognize my fight to be loved. I see
those relationships that I turn to in desiring to be filled up, those
friendships that I sincerely hope the other person holds as valuable and
precious as I do. And the lies that
plague my mind when doubts creep in regarding their sincerity: "Would they do
that if you were really valuable to
them? And how much did they really mean it when they said, 'Your
friendship is important to me,'?" This
battle usually ends one of two ways: either fear of love unreciprocated causes
me to build walls, or fear of being forgotten causes me to cling all the more
to their love. Neither of those leave me
content in my relationships.
So what now? I end
with a quote I found in Erin McManus' book, "Soul Cravings":
"It is insanity to
run from God and search for love."
And it is there I find my solution.
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Posted in Nicaragua by Shawndell St John on 2/18/2012
Sometimes God puts people in your life, and your reaction is: "And what am I supposed to do with THIS?"
That happened to me this week, and I had to laugh at what God did.
We were given the incredible opportunity to go on a field trip with a local youth group to the city of Granada, several hours away. The night before, we talked about the amazing opportunities to form relationships and build trust among the community. We encouraged the team to split up on the bus, sit with people they didn't know and make new friends. I even jokingly said: "They are stuck on a bus with you, so they can't even run away!" Little did I know how true that would be.
We woke up at the ungodly hour of 3:30 AM for breakfast and were meeting the youth group at 4-ish. Of course we are on Nicaraguan time, so we didn't get on the bus until an hour and a half later. I was the last of our group to get on the bus, so I walked past each of my teammates, continuing on and on.... to the back of the bus. Now I never went to public school, and I never rode the bus, but if the concept of the "cool kids sit in the back of the bus" is indeed true, then it certainly was on this bus ride. It was definitely true in the aspect that it was all of the older kids that thought they were real smooth and made fun of everybody else.
I managed to find an empty row, second to the last, but no sooner had I sat down then Mr. Cool himself plopped down next to me. He had his gym bag and white tank top, his sunglasses, and a gansta doo-rag and wanna-be fedora to complete the look. He scarcely gave me a glance when he took the empty spot. Immediately he started throwing his two cents into every Spanish conversation going on in the back of the bus (in a rather loud voice, mind you), but whenever I tried to start talking to him, he would give me single word answers with very little interest. I didn't get much farther than finding out his name was Manuel and he was 22 years old, and that his body language was saying he CLEARLY wasn't interested in talking to me.
Well, what am I supposed to do with THIS God? I wondered. I'm supposed to be starting friendships, but even though I'm trying really hard with the limited Spanish I have, I'm getting NOTHING in return! He won't even give me the time of day... Punk. And he is supposed to be my seatmate all day! Not only would he hardly speak to me, but I understood enough Spanish to know that him and all of the other punks in the back of the bus were laughing about him sitting so close to a gringa... and the early hour probably didn't help my patience level either.
So I kinda wrote him off. I started chatting with a sweet girl named Anna in the row behind me, and as our conversation progressed, I noticed everybody around listening in. We were on the bus for four and a half hours before we arrived in Granada, but in that time I became friends with Anna, Marvin, Narle, Jonathan, Michael and several others in the surrounding seats. I didn't get much out of Manuel though. Our day was full of several different stops and adventures, including a boat tour of a series of islands on the lake, an outlook with an amazing view, a hiking trail and a trip to the zoo, but what I found more interesting was the progression of my relationship with Manuel. Until lunch, he barely looked at me, but as the day passed words started being exchanged. Not too quickly mind you, first it was just the essentials of standing up and sitting down and moving around in the bus. Eventually though, he would smirk at my laughter and jokes with the other passengers, and we even had a few chuckles in navigating the tight quarters of our row.
His favorite activity appeared to be yelling "Callate!" (shut up!) to his friends several rows away, so finally I managed to communicate to him: "Stop yelling in my ear!" He then thought it was real amusing to start a game with my friend Marvin, who was on the other side of me, and they proceeded to take turns yelling in my ears as I turned from one to the other in exasperation. EVERYBODY on the bus thought that was funny. As our relationship progressed even more, we started a conversation in Spanish. Apparently since we were both 22 and neither of us had significant others, the clear result was that he should be my novio, or boyfriend. He found my protestations very amusing, especially when I said he could be my friend. "Tu novio Y tu amigo," he suggested with a smirk and raised eyebrows. I shut him down very quickly.
My limited Spanish didn't allow for our conversation to go very deep, but I couldn't believe what had happened. Manuel was still very much a punk, but by the end of the day I was sitting among the "cool kids" at the back of the bus, singing worship songs at the top of my lungs: them in Spanish, I in English. The punks that had laughed at me that morning were letting me rest my head on their seat to sleep, and even scolding their friends for bumping me awake. And when we got off the bus, Manuel bid me farewell with a high-five and an "adios, mi amiga."
Never did I think "goodbye, my friend," would sound so sweet. I'm praying for the opportunity to share the Gospel with him in the future, but maybe if I don't get to God will stick him on a bus for a day with someone else who can.
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Posted in Nicaragua by Shawndell St John on 2/18/2012
I was blown away this Valentine's day by the men on our team. Ryan, my co-leader, and our guys Marcus and Josh absolutely blessed our socks off when it came to loving us women. Honey, you got a lot to live up to. :)
Josh, Marcus and Ryan
I woke up early to have my time with the Lord, walking out to my normal spot that looks out over the palm trees and the green fields. After a few minutes, I notice our guys sneakily setting up something on the other side of the building.... Out of respect for their surprise, of course I didn't get nosy, but it was rather hard to not notice frolicking happening as they gathered flowers from the field. Yes, I said frolicking. Don't question it.
When it came time for breakfast, we were escorted along a trail of wildflowers, around the building and to the scene of a picnic breakfast set up just for us. Approaching closer, we saw a single red rose by each place setting. Needless to say, a united: "Awwwwww!" arose from us girls.
Our picnic breakfast
The puppy love sound turned into shrieks of joy when we saw what awaited us at each of our places. Ryan had written to each of our families and gotten letters from parents, siblings and best friends. Hand written and placed by our roses, every single girl was bawling within seconds of picking up their cards (Yes, including me).
Kacie and Amy reading their letters
Me and my letter (Thanks mom and dad!)
Our day just got better with them serving us breakfast, and then at lunch each of the guys had several of us girls as valentines. Marcus got me the cutest little teddy bear to go with my sweet note of encouragement.
We had been filling up a box with notes and encouragement for one another, so that evening we read them, shared cheesy pick up lines and snacked on the sweets we received from one another.
Our box of Valentine's!
We decided to end the night well with a cheesy prom backdrop and a Valentine's day PHOTO SHOOT!
Awkward family photo
Why yes, we are Charlie's Angels
The night quickly degraded into really poorly sung versions of the Titanic song and fumbled attempts at swing dancing, but it really was the most amazing Valentine's day I have ever had. To my future husband: sorry, but you have your work cut out for you in topping this day.
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Posted in Nicaragua by Shawndell St John on 2/7/2012
3 years ago my family fell apart, and with it, my whole world. 2 years ago, the date was a painful reminder of hurt in my life and a time I didn't want to think about. But last year, all of that changed.
I decided to take a day that the enemy and stolen and turned to his purpose and TAKE IT BACK. I took it back and made it a day of celebrating God's promises, of standing in the gap believing that my God is a God of restoration. I declared this day Restoration Day, and this is what I wrote on that day:
God is a God of restoration. He takes us, broken and faulty, falling apart at the seams, and puts us back together again. Originally made perfect, yet now rusty remains of what we once were, He renews us completely and makes us new again. Piece by crumbling piece, He brings a whole man out of the wreckage that we call ourselves. He restores not only us but our relationship with Him, the one that was once lost to us by sin and guilt, bringing intimacy and communion with God out of the distance that once stood between us.
God is working restoration in my family. He is taking what was broken and faulty, falling apart at the seams, and is putting it back together again. So much more than flesh and blood, the enemy sought to poison what God had created good and holy, a family, my family. Seeking to kill and destroy, he used the weapons that he knows well: betrayal, bitterness, anger and shame. He thought he had won.
But my God is a God of restoration. What the enemy destroys, he has to restore sevenfold. God has promised me complete restoration for my family, sevenfold above and beyond what it was before. He has promised me new growth and new ministry for my family. And He has promised me that He remains faithful to His promises. As it says in Numbers 23:19, "God is not man, that he should lie, or a son of man, that he should change his mind. Has he said, and will he not do it? Or has he spoken, and will he not fulfill it?"
Read the full blog here:
Last year, I celebrated with my squad in Malaybalay, in the Philippines. Today, I celebrated with my team here in Chinandega, Nicaragua. The festivities included a special Restoration Day song (Happy Birthday with a few switched up words) and chocolate chip cookies, provided by the amazing Amy Crow and Naomi Graber.
We also built an altar, a tradition I started in the Philippines last year. Used in the Old Testament, altars commemorated something God did or a promise he made. On the rocks of our altar we wrote the promises God had made to us... The restoration of families, the future spouse yet to be met, and the futures waiting to be walked out. Gathering our promises together, we celebrated in our God, the God who fulfills promises.
Happy Restoration Day! :D
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Posted in Nicaragua by Shawndell St John on 2/4/2012
Mario is my new friend. The driver for Vision: Nicaragua, he is always around and always behind the wheel of the truck that takes us zooming down the highway to our location of the day. But he is much more than just our "driver". Mario truly has a heart of gold, the heart of a servant. Mario started working for Visions: Nicaragua when it started 10 years ago and has been here since. He is married and has a family, but makes himself available 24/7 for whatever we need, everything from locating medication for a sore throat to stopping for ice cream at the end of a long day of construction.
We have been doing construction several days a week since we have arrived here, and not only has he been driving us everywhere, everyday, but he has always been in the middle of the work needing to be done. He taught us how to mix concrete, (my newest skill) and lay brick. I know that he and Juan Carlos (who is heading up the construction project), could do the work 10 times faster than us gringos, but instead they patiently teach us.
Mixing mortar... Yeah, we are all single.
Mario speaks a little bit of English, and what he does know he has used to quiz me in my Spanish.
"Colors? Bloo?"
"Azule."
"Numbers? One hundrad?"
"Cien."
Banter between us doesn't go very deep considering my lack of conversational Spanish, but somehow I manage to answer questions about how old I am, where I live, do I have a boyfriend, why DON'T I have a boyfriend, etc. I think he find my Spanish very entertaining (not surprising) but yet he still encourages me to practice. As of right now, I'm great at understanding the Spanish words mostly commonly used in construction: "Need more water. I need two more blocks. Need more water. No more. Three and a half buckets of sand. Need more water."
Need more water!
My favorite thing about Mario is his smile, because it truly reflects his heart. Every morning I try and make a special effort to greet him and thank him for his service: "Buenas dias Mario! Gracias!" He always, ALWAYS responds with a big smile and a gracious: "Buenas! De nada." His heart of a servant is as constant as his smile, and he serves as a reminder to me: we are here to serve, wherever we may be.
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Posted in Nicaragua by Shawndell St John on 1/22/2012
Finally, I blog. I could say that my excuse is important team-leadery stuff, but really I have just enjoyed spending time with my team and I don't want to hide myself away to write a blog. God has incredibly blessed me with this amazing team. When asked by a friend to describe them, I talked about how fun and goofy they are, constantly laughing and full of joy and bursting into random song for every occasion. His response? "That is SO you." I was going to write about them individually but one of my girls, Haille, beat me to it... So please read her blog post http://nicaragua.adventures.org/?filename=team-pies-hermosas to get a better picture of my people.
Some of my amazing team, back row from left to right: Josh, Christy, Lindsey, Kacie, Amy, and Haille. Front row: My co-leader Ryan, and Naomi.
God has been so good to me... I live in the shadow of a volcanoe, in a tropical paradise where I can chill out in my hammock to watch the sunset. I have a real bed (sweet!) and the cooks are amazing (SWEET!!). Being a leader is so different than I could have thought, and now I realize how crazy I must have driven my team leader on the World Race with all of my questions (sorry Kayla and Aubrie!). But the most amazing part is seeing the Lord work in new ways. Every conversation I have with a teammate, I am so blessed to hear the Lord doing his work in their lives. We have been sharing testimonies with the group, and I have loved hearing the redemptive stories. I don't know if this is cheating or not, but every victory feels like my own victory when I celebrate with them!
In some ways, I feel like a completely different person than I ever have been before... And yet I have never been more myself. God has brought me into such freedom and into a place where I can not only live out that freedom, but THRIVE in it. Please pray for continued wisdom and discernment in my life, and honor and courage in our team. We have called ourselves Pies Hermosos, which is Spanish for Beautiful Feet, based off of the scripture Isaiah 52:7:
"How beautiful on the mountains
are the feet of those who bring good news,
who proclaim peace,
who bring good tidings,
who proclaim salvation,
who say to Zion,
'Your God reigns!'"
Considering my feet that get completely dirty after a day in the dust and the toe that I have already busted once playing soccer barefoot, that is saying a lot. Please read our team blog to follow the blog posts of my Nicaragua team... They love comments and words of encouragement! http://nicaragua.adventures.org/ | |
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