A letter from Carl Agsten and Leslie Clay in Nicaragua
October 24, 2009
Matagalpa
Dear Friends,
We miss all of you and hope you are well. It was exactly one month ago to the day that we landed in Managua in a pouring rain. Anita Taylor was there, as expected, with a driver to help us transfer our worldly belongings to the home of Doug Orbaker, an experienced mission co-worker in Nicaragua. The next morning we went to the CEPAD office and met more future colleagues. We were greeted with lots of love and hospitality. On Sunday we went to church with Luis, a young Nicaraguan staff member who translated the service for us. The childcare teachers at church were kind and organized. I have a wonderful picture in my mind of Kai coming up with the other children to the front of the church and singing to all of us.
I remember last year when Carl and I were talking and praying a lot about what we would do next. It’s amazing how God works: both of us were independently focusing on Latin America, and what started as a thought to do a short volunteer project became a vision of God’s call for our lives. Now we are here in Nicaragua for a three-year assignment to bridge communities of faith in Nicaragua and North America. Just one month into it, what can I say? I knew there would be challenges but I never knew how many. My children both had fevers. Ella’s lasted an entire week. I speak the most horrendous Spanish. The humid heat is intense and the mosquitoes are both annoying and scary.
So how can I already say that I love it here? I feel the presence of God as intense as the mosquitoes and the heat — in the people, the hospitality, the music, the food and the language. Only in these challenges do we grow in our trust of others, truly relying on the kindness of strangers. I may take a taxicab not knowing where I am going, trusting that the driver will get me safely to my destination. I go into the doctor’s office, not knowing the quality of care, trusting the doctor will properly treat my sick child. There is a lot of trust involved, and that’s a scary thing, but that’s how I want to live this life, trusting my neighbor, believing in the story of the Good Samaritan, believing we are all on the same journey.
We’ve been in Spanish school in Matagalpa for four weeks now. It is more difficult for me than Carl, mainly because I am so impulsive and I throw out incomplete sentences to my host family, hoping they can finish it or piece it together. I don’t think in complete sentences, which is a drawback when you are learning a new language. Everyone is very patient, and I will forever remember this generosity when I encounter someone learning a new language.
The people here are so warm and willing to teach. Our host mother, Maria Luisa, is constantly singing Spanish songs to the girls. Kai and Ella feel at home in su casa. She loves to hear them running and laughing and playing. When I remind them to use their “inside voices,” she looks at me in a puzzled way and tells them to continue, no worries, esta bien. My life is so enhanced by these new experiences. I have to admit, living in the house of another family is challenging. We are so used to our own space, and plenty of it, in our culture.
I remember my sister telling me the house next to her in San Diego was for sale and that I should buy it so we could live close together. My first thought was, “Are you kidding? We’d kill each other or at least get tired of each other.” After this experience, however, I think I’ll ask if she has a couple of extra rooms in her house.
If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, “Give this man your seat.” Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place. But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, “Friend, move up to a better place.” Then you will be honored in the presence of all your fellow guests. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.
(Luke 14:9-11)
Grace and Peace,
The Rev. Leslie Clay
