Tuesday, June 9, 2015

rain on tin roofs

June 9

Bright colored beads strung and wired in interesting and exquisite combinations spilled over the tables. Greeting cards with English phrases filled the table behind. The hours upon hours of delicate and devoted work of so many hands that previously turned tricks now produce elegant products to sell. Products of which they are proud. Products which finance the economy of the single parent home. It struck me today, mostly because I am slow, that none of the households on the grounds of House of Hope have a man. The care of the children and the bread winning are done by the woman who bravely walked away from the only life she knew. Truly the fatherless and the widow; and yet they are industrious. “She selects wool and flax and works with eager hands….She considers a field and buys it; out of her earnings she plants a vineyard. She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks.” Proverbs 31:13&16-17

The bead display followed another testimony given at lunch break of a Nicaraguan woman now on staff with House of Hope. Several pounds of beads that will be used to make more of this intricate jewelry were carefully purchased, packed and flown from the United States. They will be put to good use. You might even wear them one day. This woman who shared suffered her life of prostitution for 12 years before the final night she vowed to leave. That particular night she devoted her life to Christ and promised to no longer continue in such work of destroying the temple within her. She took home equivalent to a month’s wages after that night and has never looked back. It reminded me of the story of the woman with the oil that never ran out. A promise to God and He provided. Her children wore shoes and had clothing, backpacks and notebooks after she came to House of Hope. She completed the 4 year program and now works on staff mentoring other women in the community, tutoring the children in their studies, and travels to Honduras to minister when April cannot go. Her children are successful in their own right and the cycle of prostitution stopped with her. She stood in the gap and Jesus won. Today Love wins.  

The work of yesterday spilled into today almost as if we had never left and slept. However, there was a greater sense of meaning, a sense of urgency for the work we knew lay ahead. Aside from the pathology we are seeing and diagnosing at the Medical, Dental and Gynecologic clinics, we are also facing vulnerable and broken hearts searching for love and grace. The women we first met on Sunday have continued to come through the gates, bringing their friends and pondering an escape from their current vicious cycle of metaphorical slavery and searching for a better way to care for themselves and their children. And in the end we are not so much different from these broken women. In fact, I would venture a guess we are just as broken despite our clean clothes, keen shoes, head lamps and umbrellas. We are of the same humanity banned from the Garden of Eden, seeking redemption and to be perfected. In such brokenness we are made whole; for the cracks display the beauty born out of brokenness. As we learned this eve, there is a glass made to take advantage of the color spectrum displayed when the light is at just the right angle to shine through the crackle glass. From afar it appears to be ordinary glass formed in functional objects, but up close the thin cracks divulge a greater secret that beauty abounds in imperfection.

Though Nicaragua is currently in the rainy season, we had avoided such downpour until today. Just after we had settled into our clinics the clouds let loose their pent up moisture and rain tumbled to the earth throughout the day and into this night. One of the vans was unable to cross the road for the river that started to flow and were forced along a different route to the hotel. They made it by the grace of God. The rain continues to pound the tin roofs and flood the streets. We may be walking through this mud and water tomorrow to reach our clinics. 

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