Hands, Eyes and Voices: A Sensory Experience in Nicaragua

By Mandy Cloninger

Hands

Vicki made the sign of the cross on the palm of my hand, and she said this blessing, “Mandy, God bless your hands as you bring God’s love, healing and wholeness to this broken world.”

I had read just a couple days ago in Henri Nouwen’s Gracias, “Ministry is entering with our human brokenness into communion with others and speaking a word of hope. The hope is based on the love of God.” So it seemed quite fitting to start the week as Pam Busby led us in a devotion where she called us to be the Lord’s supper for those we come into contact with in Nicaragua. We are called as people to be broken bread and poured out wine for others. This is certainly the kind of brokenness that allows us to be in relationship with one another. Because aren’t we all broken in one way or the other and sharing our brokenness, our imperfections, our love with one another, no matter whether that is at home or in Nicaragua, it is part of our calling as Christians to go and serve and make God’s love real in the world.

I didn’t want to wash my hands that morning, nor could I shake the picture of Jesus’ hands, which he opened up for each of us and beared those nails through his palms so that we might have the gift of God’s grace. As Steve MacIsaac said this morning, “Because of the grace of God, go I.”

Eyes

We’ve come to see Nicaragua and her people with a new set of attentive eyes: the eyes of our heart. We’re looking for the mustard seeds, the signs of God’s body language that often are so small they go unnoticed.

It’s Greg dancing with a little girl to the Nicaraguan music during church. It’s the spirit of Darling, who even though she has endured her share of burdens in her life, she has hope that only comes from the grace of God, and that hope looks a lot like Carlito. It’s Carlito playing with a homemade kite that is patched together from an old plastic Subway bag and ribbon. It’s the laughter and camaraderie that envelopes the team as we pass concrete blocks and mix cement together. It’s the mother going about her normal day next door as we construct a wall beside her. She is bathing her child, washing the laundry and doing the dishes.

I once read that doing the dishes or any simple daily task can provide a meaningful spiritual experience, and it certainly can when you see it with attentive eyes. We are paying attention to the broken and sin-scarred places we would rather not notice.

Voices

I have started to learn the voices of Nicaragua, the chirping of these cute little birds that waken us and sometimes fly into blondish colored hair, the honking of the horn to signal get out of the way as we meander through the barrio, the children who see us pass in the street and want to show-off their English by shouting hello, gringo on the right, then try to give us a high five as we drive by.

I’m learning the voices of mi familia in Nicaragua, my fellow teammates, whose perspectives are so vastly different from my own that part of the real joy of this trip is hearing the impressions of this place in their voices. Lia Schimdt shared with me on Sunday that a young man touched her in a special way because he smelled like Palmolive. She explained that her family in Columbia washed with Palmolive, and to her the smell was delicious. He attended church alone without a brother, sister or a parent, and Lia asked him why he comes to church. He responded because church is a happy place!

And this morning, Steve shared that our team is a lot like a family – loud, loving and forgiving of each other’s faults… but yet we don’t mind talking about those faults! I couldn’t help but burst out laughing as much of our team did. Games that conclude the evening tend to bring out the best and worst in some of us… there’ s my overwhelming competitiveness (hey we did win three catch phrase games in a row) and loud voice (shouting $2 dollars and Gryffindor, no Hogwarts), there’s Debbie and Pam acting out  bust-a-rhyme, Sally’s Brazilian rainforest and Dylan’s animal croutons.

One of our translators, Dennis, who has been working with our construction team, said I was his “first Mandy,” and guess what? He sang me “Oh Mandy” by Barry Manilo in English with a lovely Nicaraguan accent.

El Ayudante Brief Slideshow on Picasa

Today my hands have dirt underneath my fingernails, my eyes squint to block out the sun underneath my Gator visor, and the voices that make me smile are the ones I’m coming to know and recognize by ear. Whether it’s the still quiet voice of God in Darling’s arms around her son, or the laughter that just past me by as the construction team is heading to the wall, my ear is attuned to God’s grace all around as I learn to hear His voice.

Oh and my palette was rejoicing and singing “Hallelujah” today when we stopped for ice cream!!! A complete sensory experience in Nicargua!

Comments

[Tricia E. Bratton]

Dear Nicaragua team,

I am reading your writings with great affection and remembering the transformative experience of my seven days there as a member of the first mission team to come to Nicaragua four years ago. Now there are over thirty of you! May your experience there bring the presence of Christ to those in need. I know it will forever change your lives, as it did mine. It is such a beautiful setting and I will always remember those lovely rocking chairs! Tricia E. Bratton