Barefoot at 30,000 feet high. This airplane is taking me through clouds and clear air for miles and miles to bring me back home. My inability to sleep at planes gives me plenty of time to reflect on the last two weeks. I open my travel journal for the last time, ready to write about this mission trip. I have experienced and learned enough to be writing for days, and that’s exactly my plan.
I have a testimony to tell. It’s not about ears that started to hear, eyes that started to see, or legs that started to walk. It’s the story of an island being loved. It’s the testimony of conversations on a big rock at the ocean side, of fishing equipment given to families, of villages being fed, of a family that we became a part of, of a church that became hungry for more, of streamers handed out to kids that loosened up to dance and of tribe-leaders learning about the Kingdom. It’s the report of a fading line between daily life and ministry. It’s a story with a scenery inside and outside church walls. It’s the story of a love that lasts a lifetime and an island at the Caribbean shore that’s worth every single drop of it.
It’s a testimony embedded in many adventures. Adventures like killing a cow to feed the community with its fresh meat. Adventures like the ‘boat ride from hell’ which tortured my team members and broke my camera with its vigorous waves. Adventures like hearing your team member scream like a little girl because he woke up to a chicken that decided to fly into our room and land on his head. Adventures like cockroaches as big as your thumb in the outhouse and spiders as big as your hand on the ceiling above your bed. Adventures like waking up to ‘bombs in the night’, which turned out to be coconuts falling on the tin roof. Adventures like swimming in a river and trying to figuring out if that floating thing a few feet ahead of you is part of a tree or a part of an alligator. Adventures happening in an environment that’s stripped away every extreme excess of civilization and brought us back to the essentials of life.
It’s a testimony of a heavenly Father that taught me lessons that I can build my life upon. He did all of this through a trip that turned out to be the adventure of a lifetime.
This post is the last part of a series of blog posts ‘Nicarama14′ about my mission trip to Nicaragua.
It’s also part of the ‘barefoot’-series, which will be accompanied by an iPhone snapshot of the place where I wrote it in my travel journal. Read all of the other posts here.