Dear Nicaragua
*When we moved away from Nicaragua this summer our intention was to leave well. One way I did this was by writing a letter to the beloved people in my life, saying goodbye while thanking them for ways they had blessed my life. I decided also, as a way to process my grief, to write a letter to Nicaragua. Today is almost 4 months from when we left Nicaragua and I've been missing it a lot more lately. Rereading and posting this letter is part of me processing my grief of leaving our home and transitioning into a new one.
June 21, 2016
Dear Nicaragua,
It's hard to believe that in just four days we will be saying goodbye to you. And I don't know when we're coming back, whether for a visit or to live again.
I remember when I came for the first time so many years ago and I didn't know a soul. I was young, excited, naive, and yet I thought I knew what you were like since I had grown up in Bolivia and assumed things were very similar, if not the same here.
I remember in my first few months here I experienced a daily flood of memories from my childhood. Thoughts I had kept locked away came back to me in full force. I remember struggling with these memories, experiencing nostalgia and trying to reconcile these thoughts from the past (that didn't have much relevance to my life in the states or did not get expressed much except to close friends I could trust) with my present day first experiences in Nicaragua.
Eventually, after those first few months, a distinction began to form and I was able to separate my growing up years in Bolivia and this new experience. You were different. I was different. I was no longer a child following my parents' calling, just doing what my family was doing. Now I was an adult making my own choices, deciding to enter your beautiful country and learn and grow and change and experience you.
I learned so much in those first few months. I quickly learned what words were offensive or didn't make sense here (I'm grateful that your people are gracious and forgiving). It seemed to take me forever to make the switch from automatically saying "Ciau" all the time to "Adios". Now it is the most natural thing ever and it would be difficult for me to change that habit.
I remember back then everything being an adventure, a new and exciting experience. Before I even stepped foot on your soil I was inexplicably drawn to you, intrigued by you. And now eleven years later I can say with certainty you have become my home.
They say home is where the heart is. Pieces of my heart will always be here, in this place where I met my love, where I struggled through depression, where I experienced triumphs, joys, fruit, and where I experienced disappointment and despair. This place where our first two kids were born, where Luke and I made a home together, where we served alongside in ministry.
Your country will always have my heart for it was here I truly learned to live, to live free. Of guilt, shame, pressure to perform. It was here where I truly grew up. Thank you for sharing yourself with me, an outsider, for welcoming me. Thank you for giving me so many wonderful memories, for being part of my story.
I love the beauty of your land. I love that in many senses it is "undiscovered beauty" and has not become a tourist trap. I love your simplicity. Life is slower and things are laid back and not complicated (most of the time). I love your people. I have been amazed at their hospitality, more often than no expressing itself in an attitude of openness and receptiveness to foreigners. I love that your people are gracious and forgiving when we blunder, when we mess up and offend. I love seeing your people celebrate and enjoy life and their families. You all have time for each other. You look out for each other and take great care of each other. I love that about the body of Christ here.
I'm sorry for the times I have criticized you, complained about you. For failing to see your beauty and potential, for not believing in change. I'm sorry for thinking I know all about you, that there's nothing left to learn. I'm sorry for letting my pride blind me at times to your strengths and instead, focusing on your weaknesses. I'm thankful again for your graciousness, for your hospitality not merely as I entered your country but throughout my time here. I'm thankful for your humility and understanding as I (and my people/my kind) make these mistakes and hopefully learn from them.
I will miss you. Probably more than I realize right now. I will miss the comfort of this place, the safe haven it can seem to be from the social and political problems of the U.S. I will miss the delicious food, prepared with the intent of not only feeding physical bodies but fostering relationships and spending time together. I will miss speaking Spanish daily and interacting with your beautiful and unique people. I will miss experiencing the resourcefulness of your people. I will miss being able to hand my child to a stranger in a moment of need or crisis. I will miss being ushered to the front of the line at the bank because I am pregnant or have a baby with me (oh how I love how your country values children!) And I will miss being surrounded by the reminders of the many precious memories I've made here. These are my "story places".
This is my prayer for you: that God would bless this land, not only financially but with peace, with strength and with transformation. May you fight for justice and take a stand against corruption. I pray you would hold on to what is true, what is good...it will liberate you. You have so much potential. Don't waste it. Keep welcoming, keep loving, keep developing, and keep valuing relationships. You are one of a kind, Nicaragua, and I am so grateful for the privilege of having lived here and having been shaped by your land and people. You will forever be in my heart. I look forward to the day when I see you again.
Much love and prayers,
Ellen
June 21, 2016
Dear Nicaragua,
It's hard to believe that in just four days we will be saying goodbye to you. And I don't know when we're coming back, whether for a visit or to live again.
I remember when I came for the first time so many years ago and I didn't know a soul. I was young, excited, naive, and yet I thought I knew what you were like since I had grown up in Bolivia and assumed things were very similar, if not the same here.
I remember in my first few months here I experienced a daily flood of memories from my childhood. Thoughts I had kept locked away came back to me in full force. I remember struggling with these memories, experiencing nostalgia and trying to reconcile these thoughts from the past (that didn't have much relevance to my life in the states or did not get expressed much except to close friends I could trust) with my present day first experiences in Nicaragua.
Eventually, after those first few months, a distinction began to form and I was able to separate my growing up years in Bolivia and this new experience. You were different. I was different. I was no longer a child following my parents' calling, just doing what my family was doing. Now I was an adult making my own choices, deciding to enter your beautiful country and learn and grow and change and experience you.
I learned so much in those first few months. I quickly learned what words were offensive or didn't make sense here (I'm grateful that your people are gracious and forgiving). It seemed to take me forever to make the switch from automatically saying "Ciau" all the time to "Adios". Now it is the most natural thing ever and it would be difficult for me to change that habit.
I remember back then everything being an adventure, a new and exciting experience. Before I even stepped foot on your soil I was inexplicably drawn to you, intrigued by you. And now eleven years later I can say with certainty you have become my home.
They say home is where the heart is. Pieces of my heart will always be here, in this place where I met my love, where I struggled through depression, where I experienced triumphs, joys, fruit, and where I experienced disappointment and despair. This place where our first two kids were born, where Luke and I made a home together, where we served alongside in ministry.
Your country will always have my heart for it was here I truly learned to live, to live free. Of guilt, shame, pressure to perform. It was here where I truly grew up. Thank you for sharing yourself with me, an outsider, for welcoming me. Thank you for giving me so many wonderful memories, for being part of my story.
I love the beauty of your land. I love that in many senses it is "undiscovered beauty" and has not become a tourist trap. I love your simplicity. Life is slower and things are laid back and not complicated (most of the time). I love your people. I have been amazed at their hospitality, more often than no expressing itself in an attitude of openness and receptiveness to foreigners. I love that your people are gracious and forgiving when we blunder, when we mess up and offend. I love seeing your people celebrate and enjoy life and their families. You all have time for each other. You look out for each other and take great care of each other. I love that about the body of Christ here.
I'm sorry for the times I have criticized you, complained about you. For failing to see your beauty and potential, for not believing in change. I'm sorry for thinking I know all about you, that there's nothing left to learn. I'm sorry for letting my pride blind me at times to your strengths and instead, focusing on your weaknesses. I'm thankful again for your graciousness, for your hospitality not merely as I entered your country but throughout my time here. I'm thankful for your humility and understanding as I (and my people/my kind) make these mistakes and hopefully learn from them.
I will miss you. Probably more than I realize right now. I will miss the comfort of this place, the safe haven it can seem to be from the social and political problems of the U.S. I will miss the delicious food, prepared with the intent of not only feeding physical bodies but fostering relationships and spending time together. I will miss speaking Spanish daily and interacting with your beautiful and unique people. I will miss experiencing the resourcefulness of your people. I will miss being able to hand my child to a stranger in a moment of need or crisis. I will miss being ushered to the front of the line at the bank because I am pregnant or have a baby with me (oh how I love how your country values children!) And I will miss being surrounded by the reminders of the many precious memories I've made here. These are my "story places".
This is my prayer for you: that God would bless this land, not only financially but with peace, with strength and with transformation. May you fight for justice and take a stand against corruption. I pray you would hold on to what is true, what is good...it will liberate you. You have so much potential. Don't waste it. Keep welcoming, keep loving, keep developing, and keep valuing relationships. You are one of a kind, Nicaragua, and I am so grateful for the privilege of having lived here and having been shaped by your land and people. You will forever be in my heart. I look forward to the day when I see you again.
Much love and prayers,
Ellen
Comments
Post a Comment