Providence

For the past year,  my living situation has been tenuous at times; however, I have seen God working in amazing ways to provide a roof over my head at just the right time and in just the right place!

About a year ago, my housemate and friend, Guissell, started looking for a room closer to her university. We were not very happy with our house because the rains had started and the leaks in the roof had appeared. We decided to start casually looking for a different place to live. Months passed, and I started spending more and more time in Managua due to work and a certain handsome man that will soon be my husband. The house in León by the terminal became a classroom for Dordt College students in the fall, as we received 4 young women and their teachers four days a week for their Spanish classes. We had to explain to them the intricate system of buckets we put out when it rained, and they had to struggle through class with deafening noises of rain on the tin roof. It was tropical storm Nate that really did us in. Guissell had a river running through her room due to seepage through the walls. We decided we would definitely be breaking our contract early and leaving in December at the latest.

I had warned Guissell that my next move would probably be to Managua to spend more time with Raúl and also to be closer to the office. While some friends went on home service, they kindly let me "test-run" their apartment to see if living in Managua would really be beneficial to my life and ministry. Turns out that three days after I went to Managua to begin this trial period, Guissell found a room for rent that was to her liking and much closer to her university. Within a week she had moved, and I also decided to put my stuff in storage and give up the house. I ended up apartment sitting until the end of November, and then stayed with some friends for 2 weeks in December before going home for the holidays with Raúl.

In early December I ran into an acquaintance in Managua. She asked what I was doing in Managua since she knew I was living in León, and I told her I was in between places. Olivia then told me she had been looking for a housemate since August. I went to see her house, and we decided we wanted to live together so I moved officially in January.

Olivia and I have strangely parallel backgrounds and life events right now, from college in Northwest Iowa, working for Reformed church organizations, similar jobs as liaisons between churches, and serious relationships. We have been great friends and sounding boards for each other. Olivia was also engaged to be married, and her fiancé came to Nicaragua for an internship with plans to move permanently after their wedding in June. Since Raúl and I didn't know our plans at the time, finding a new place in June seemed like a good plan to me. As it turned out, I need a place after June while I'm still single until December. However, a neighbor living two houses away was going to move out in July - perfect! We have it lined up that I will take possession of the house in August, and they are selling me a lot of their big appliances that I needed.

Olivia put me in touch with a family she knew who needed a house sitter for the summer to fill in the gaps for June and July, when the newlyweds were scheduled to be living in my former house. We agreed in May that it would be a good match, and I moved into their house on June 13, almost 2 weeks earlier than originally planned because the family's organization asked them to leave earlier due to the crisis in Nicaragua. I'll be living there until August when they return. So despite not knowing the next step and feeling a bit like a drifter over this past year, I see the hand of God moving clearly, orchestrating all the pieces. I'm especially in awe of God's providence because of how the unrest in Nicaragua has developed.

1. León is a city embroiled in the violence and political unrest of the country. It has always been the heart of the revolution, and they take pride in that reputation. If I were still living in León, I would either have already evacuated or I would be paralyzed by the new way of living (Instead of being free to walk around alone until 10 pm, everyone is going home at 3 pm and staying in now). The areas where I used to live have been right along the routes for marches and looting. God moved me to Managua in plenty of time so I could get used to a different routine, and he preserved me from what I might have experienced in León.

2. Safety is a big concern now in Nicaragua (much to my chagrin) and it turns out that I am house-sitting in a fortress. This house is huge and withstood the revolution in the 70s after it was built in the 40s. The internet has a hard time reaching through more than 2 walls because they are so solid. The house is in a residential neighborhood that has two security needles that a car needs to go through, additional gates that could be locked, and 2-4 guards on duty at all times. I feel like I am living in a fortified castle.

3. I also feel like I am living in a cage some days, but it's the best cage I could ask for. I have been working from home because I'm avoiding going out unnecessarily, and some days I'm very restless. However, this house is big, giving me room to spread out or change scenery. It also has a lovely garden that feels like paradise. The dog and the cat keep me company and give me a distraction too.

From the people who have opened their doors to the timing of the places I have lived, I see God's hand clearly working. I'm thankful for a place to feel safe now. I'm thankful for a place to live come August where I can prepare a home for Raúl and me as a married couple. I'm thankful that God always knows what he is doing.

When I first left León, all I could talk about was wanting to go back. Now I see how God was preparing me for what was to come. I felt like a drifter going from house to house, but God opened the right doors at the right times. I'm thankful for God's providence and that He has a plan even when I don't know it.

Privilege

In the midst of a country going through political unrest, many people have left. There are Nicaraguans getting their passports and visas ready. Many mission agencies have pulled their foreign missionaries from the country and retirees have returned to their native lands. There has been mass exodus at the airport for the past two months.

In the context of power and privilege, it seems grossly unfair that some people can leave when a country's situation goes bad and others can't. The exit of many foreigners has meant loss of jobs and income for many Nicaraguans. Those who can leave have options. The Nicaraguans and expats who flee the country have privilege. This is a major justice issue, to be sure. I have to confess my own privilege and exploitation of my power because of my skin color, money, and options. Life is easier for me and for my compatriots, and that's wrong.

But I think it's those who stay who are more privileged.

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. James 1:2-4

You wouldn't think that trials should be taken with joy. Endurance, yes. Patience, yes. Joy, not so much. And yet James tells us in this Biblical passage that trials produce steadfastness, and when we become fully steadfast, we will be perfect, whole. So we can be joyful in the midst of suffering because we know that it will have a good effect. Perhaps the thing we are going through doesn't make us giddy with delight, but we can be excited for the effect it will produce in us.

I think of water... steadfastness looks like a deep, still, refreshing lake, rather than a wide, rippling, superficial puddle. I want to be a mountain lake rather than a puddle, and that takes suffering. Trials make a person dig deep into the grace that God offers.

You wouldn't think that political unrest could be seen as a privilege. However, when I see many fellow missionaries take the the skies (some not by choice but by orders), I feel privileged that I am still allowed to stay. I feel privileged to be able to partake in this new way of life in Nicaragua, seeing with my own eyes, touching with my hands, hearing with my own ears, feeling my own heart race with anxiousness like most of those around me.

Even so, amidst the uproar, I am safe because of where I am living, because of where my offices are located. This is a type of privilege, to be close and yet not in the midst of it (another part of the injustice I must confess and deal with).

Yet the greatest privilege of all is to experience something that most of the world has or is experiencing. I feel humbled to realize that when one of my friends watched her stable country erupt in violence and unrest, I didn't take it as seriously as I should have. I had no idea what it was like to have what was expected to be normal ripped away. The increased tension, the contingency plans, the constant alert for evacuation or attacks. Until one experiences these things first hand, there's no way to know what it's like. Now I have the privilege in sharing in the suffering -to a minor degree- of the majority of the world. Now I know what to pray for, how to pray with more compassion and heart, for millions of people and especially my friends.

Any time God opens our eyes and hearts to connect more fully with humanity, more fully with the family of God worldwide, it's a privilege. We get to palpably feel that we are not alone, that we share in the burdens and joys of all of God's people. And we know that there are prayers being lifted before God by people we have never even met. I'm thankful to share in these trials of this country during this time.

The trials themselves are not a privilege, not a joy. But the results, the changes that they bring in us, the ways they bring forth the fruit of unity, steadfastness, faith... that's a privilege.