TNT April 2017

Season Nine

We’ve hit the ground running for yet another year of awe, wonder, struggle, kindnesses, and incidental sunburn on the Coco River. Things go by so fast that, every time we sit down to write to you, it seems like we have two or three newsletters worth of stories to tell. Since our last mailing in November, we’ve been all around the United States, seen many of you in person, had mothers go on to be with the Lord and grandchildren born into the world, taken mission groups to the villages, preached, taught, sung in churches, cast vision in the midst of the Waspam Pastoral Council, organized events, walked members of the Cunningham family through yet another medical emergency, laid a sidewalk, entered fiction contests, put together a basketball team, resolved differences, eaten iguanas and other jungle delicacies, and much, much more.
We each have our own takes. One hangs back, observes, the other embraces. It is said, “Fools Rush In” but then again, so does God. We learn from each other. So here we are; we are thriving, moving forward together in Resurrection Life.  -Tom and Nutie Together. TNT KABOOOM!!

A Birth, A Death, And A Spiritual Awakening

On December 22nd we flew from Orlando, Florida to Denver, Colorado to share our “bonus” Christmas with my parents and siblings. Last March, after all us kids and various family members travelled there to celebrate her life while she still had breath in her lungs, the parting words my Mom and I spoke were, “Let’s dream big and ask God for another Christmas together.” And so it was granted. Mom revived, and after several months of Hospice care she was released and went on with strength to celebrate the passing of yet another year!

 Norwegian Roots

One of the things that happens when I arrive at my parents’ home at 1118 West Mountain Avenue is that the years turn back and the parties begin. My four siblings, who live in the area, make their way over for tea and meals and walks and visits, and life has the quality of the days of our youth. Mom and Dad, no matter what state of health or mental condition, somehow revitalize, and life flows. Then add to the mix all the nieces and nephews and girlfriends and pals to increase the laughter and sweetness of the moments together. This time, Matt and Courtney dropped in to celebrate the turning of the calendar and our cousins from Norway flew in for a visit. It had been Mom’s deep desire to see her homeland once more, but as travel was not possible, Norway came to her! We spent a beautiful weekend together in the mountains (with a professional care-giver along) and it felt like Norway with snow and family and spoken Norwegian.  My final goodbye to my Mama, in person, wasn’t so hard because she was surrounded by so many she loved! What a gift God gave us!

Then, Tom and I flew off to Maui to spend three amazing weeks with our island people (Talk about a booster shot of abundant life, that’s what time spent with them feels like!).  A couple of days before our departure from Hawaii I received a call from my sister letting me know that Mom had come down with a respiratory infection, landing her in the hospital under hospice care. This time they did not expect her to recover, the end was near, so my Colorado family moved into her hospital room and kept vigil. I sang to her over the phone daily.

Tom and I left for Urban Hope in Philadelphia where Tom’s son and his beautiful family live and

serve. There was a baby on the way, our 9th grandchild, and I had been saying all along that she was going to come early and be born while we were there! And so it was! February 17 was an EPIC day for our family…a birth, a death and a spiritual awakening.

Moments spent accompanying a loved one on their final journey home are like no other. Eternity is visceral. God’s spirit so close! For Christians, we have hope, promise, and assurance. Though saying goodbye is heart wrenching, releasing your precious one into the arms of Jesus, knowing that one-day you will be reunited is so comforting. My dear father, who spent his life going to church with us as a family but never inviting Jesus to be Lord of his life, bowed his heart in the presence of my mother in her final hours. This had been her deepest and most fervent prayer… why she had hung on for so long! I was not there to witness this spiritual breakthrough, but my sisters were, and they have described for me in detail the moving of the Spirit of God that afternoon, and the beauty that filled the room. Dad, few of words when it comes to issues of the heart, smothered Mom with kisses and declared his love for her. They will be reunited one day. Sixty-five years of marriage on earth and eternity to come.

Please pray for Dad. He remains in their large home with the caregivers continuing to come daily, keeping things as normal as possible. He suffers with increasing dementia but visits her grave regularly and loves having family around.

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River To River 

By Nutie

“River To River” is the slogan of the Radford Coffee Company, a Christian outreach whose team visited us here on the Coco River in March. Apparently, there is a river that runs through their town too!
Eric and Barbara Johnson, former overseas missionaries and now owners of the non-profit, joined forces with Mike and Laura Bagby and spent three years running the Rio Coco Café on Utila (Honduras). Then, they decided to expand the mission and returned home to Radford, Virginia to open a new shop. The Radford Coffee Company, operated by dedicated volunteers, highlights the schools on the Rio Coco, raises funds to support our teachers, and provides for various project needs. God has seriously blessed their business. From day one, they’ve had a line of customers all the way out the door, and it hasn’t stopped yet!

In mid March, though, they closed up shop for two weeks to the dismay of the town (how are we going to live without our fancy coffee and Baconagle?) in order to make the trek down here to see with their own eyes, in living color, what life and school look like on the Wangki. Though Eric and Barbara are well acquainted with Nicaragua, the seven volunteers who joined them  had found themselves constantly trying to explain the mission to their customers, having only seen pictures and heard stories about the Miskito people. Now, they were about to experience it all for themselves.
It was such a JOY to have them here. Their passion and investment of their lives in service at the Coffee Shop in order to make a difference for the people here were evident. They were curious and interested in every detail about the people, their culture, and their world.  It felt like hosting a group of anthropology students!

In Sawa, they worked really hard alongside our Miskito friends to put in a sidewalk that goes from the river to the STL building.  Now, during the wet season, we will no longer need to slog through the mud as we make our way from the canoe, up the riverbank, and through the field to the “Sawa Hilton”. Hooray! We also visited the schools where they engaged the children in song and play with such energy and passion.  On Sunday, we joined our Miskito brothers and sisters at the Moravian church in Sawa. Nick gave the message while Tom translated. In the evenings, we shared meaningful conversations as Barbara led devotions and discussions around thoughts on what a life of mission looks like. As the majority of them are musicians, our worship and singing were totally life giving! I didn’t want them to leave!

Eric had expressed to Tom a desire to serve the Pastors, so Tom arranged a one-day event at the Discipleship Building. Forty pastors from Waspam and the surrounding villages attended. Eric taught from the book of Colossians and there was a wonderful response. God willing, Eric and Barbara will be back for round two…and three…and four. Would you join us in praying for that?

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The Relative Blessing Of Rain

In March we returned to the river and at first the nights were pleasant, cool enough that we sometimes heated water on the stove and took bucket baths. We spoke of missing warm showers but did not appreciate the cold water that came out of our shower head until mid April after the pump on our well burned up. Then we sent $500 to Managua for a new submersible pump, went down to Sawa for a week, bathed in the brown river, and when we returned to Waspam we found the old pump miraculously healed. Nights are hot now and we are thankful for cold showers.

Rain On The Righteous And The Unrighteous

Following the recent weather pattern, morning dawned brilliantly  on Thursday, April 20. Later, little lamb-clouds began to skip across the blue fields of heaven from east to west. By noon it became obvious that the big bad wolf had been chasing them. The sky darkened.
Hard rain came right after we hopped into the truck with Danilo and Carlos and continued for the entire hour it took to reach Kum. Then, just as soon as we had arrived, the rain stopped, so we got out of the truck, dry. The Batu was rounding the bend toward us. When it pulled up to the quay, we noted that everyone in it and had gotten soaked.
Navigating downriver, we had cloud cover. Casilita was cold and wet so I gave her my rain jacket. Danilo, the gash from his operation healed enough to accompany us, turned and remarked that it hadn’t rained on us. Neither was the sun blasting down. We were blest. The sun shall not smite thee by day. I said something about cosmic air-conditioning and we all laughed.

We approached Sawa. Augusto, in the stern, appeared taciturn as we glided past his fields over on the Honduran side. He was aware that the frequent afternoon cloudbursts may have ruined his bean crop. There was lots of activity all along the river of people frantically pulling up what they could. Red beans are left to dry on the vine, and they need to be harvested before the rains. Now they will probably sprout and stink up their houses and have to be thrown away. Miskito people don’t eat bean sprouts. 

We got to Sawa and walked on the new sidewalk and it was like streets of gold, only slightly pooped on. Licio was glum. The day’s shower was the hardest one yet. “The bean crop is lost,” he grunted. “Blessed be the Lord.”
  
Dry season has sputtered and failed, rainy season is here before its time. The zombie fungus between the smaller toes on my right foot has come back, as it has done for as long as I can remember. It can’t be killed. I have a Miskito joke I tell about it. In the joke I order a double-decker coffin so that every year, in my grave, when the monsoon comes I can sit up and scratch my toes.
Friday we were all on the job—Danilo was paying the teachers, Licio and Guido and Arnoldo were doing cement work on the building. We ate lunch in the kitchen with Dani but the guys who were doing the cement work ate outside. We could hear laughter coming from the group. Wherever Guido is, there is laughter.

After lunch we gave the teachers school materials we had bought for them with money you have given us A dozen teachers hung around afterward to talk story. There was a brief shower—nothing much—and then a spectacular double rainbow. Low rays of late afternoon sun brightened their faces. How good and pleasant it is to dwell together in unity. 

Rough Upgrades Department

 

The new water catchment tank was full. A haphazard pipe ran down from it, ending in a spigot which dangled awkwardly some five feet in the air. Nineteen-year-old Flor placed a bucket a certain distance away and turned the spigot on. The pressure was good; water spanned the distance, falling nicely into the bucket in a perfect arc. “Nothing but net.” This became Nutie’s shower; she did not need to feel guilty about using up drinking water for bathing because the catchment tank was replenished daily.

The Sabbath Was Made For Man Department

 

Saturday afternoon there was sun so we walked into the village to give away photographs. In every yard, bean vines were drying. The Moravian church had become a barn; beans were spread out on the cement floor and overflowed into the churchyard.

Tiny Troops Department

 

We picked up the usual tropa—an entourage of children—on the way. Orphaned Rosalinda held my hand tightly the entire time and would not let go, not even to let me sort through the pile of photos. Jafferson, her brother, did the same with Nutie. These are the children of Ana Rosa, who died an hour before Truman’s passing last August, and this is how they showed the other kids that they held special status with someone in the world. Stout little Bomba, always picked on because he insists on hanging out with kids older than he, had held my hand on the last trip and was trying to reclaim his rights, but to no avail. No worries—before too long he will be big, and no one will want too mess with him. The crowd was pressing; heat from their small bodies radiated against us. I was struck by how much having my hands held without ceasing could affect my own body temperature. I wanted them to let go, but it seemed like some kind of biblical power to heal was proceeding from me (Mark 5:30) so I soldiered on in resolute kindness, understanding the high privilege of my position. Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them.

Hope Does Not Disappoint

 

They picked the beans up off the floor and on Sunday morning the Moravian Barn became a church again so I gave a sermon from the Luke 24 account of the men on the Emmaus Road—The Hope That Does Not Disappoint. Nutie worshiped. There was a good crowd and God was present. I looked out at the people and saw the words of Psalm 63 on their faces—"I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water.” Shortly after church the heavens prepared to release another downpour. People said the radio reported a “tormenta.”
The rain didn’t pass until late in the afternoon. Pastor Beres and his wife came over, expressed their gratitude, and gave us ten pounds of beans that they had managed to harvest. An alabaster jar of very expensive perfume. Nutie, in turn, handed Patricia some photographs of Ana Rosa which had she intended to give her when it was appropriate. Tears welled up and Patricia told us that the message had especially blessed her because she had been grieving that day.

Then the sun came out and stayed out, almost like with Joshua except that it didn’t remain in one place. It was just one sunny day after another and everyone was harvesting beans, stretching them out upon tarps in their yards. We visited the schools, gave out more school supplies, and had Miskito worship hoedowns with the kids. I drew a snake on the chalkboard, and after several boys took turns smacking it gleefully on the head with the teacher’s switch, I explained through the stories of Aaron’s rod and the Bronze Serpent why that serpent was Jesus. God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

The Builder

Nutie kept saying, “Danilo has become his father.” There were a few bags of cement left over from the sidewalk project so he decided to apply a repello—a stucco-like finish—to the balcony, which involved roughing the entire surface with a pick and mixing cement on the floor. It was always loud and messy outside our door, no privacy, and therefore no place to do things like bible study, prep work, or relax in the hammock during down time. Danilo has his own house and the inconvenience it caused probably never dawned on him. The day before our departure, he came up to the balcony to inspect the work. His gaze eventually drifted pleasurably past the fancy columns and railing, down to the sidewalk and the newly fenced-in yard.
“Your father ought to have been here to see this,” I said. “He would be very pleased.”
Dani smiled. “Gracias, hermano.”

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