A dangerously acute account of 18 months in Nicaraguan Territory.
then the moment’s gone…Dust in the wind. All we are is dust in the wind…
You know, I thought I was a pretty active, healthy person. Maybe not as active and healthy as I once was, but I still get around a lot better than many other people. At least, that’s what I thought until a member introduced us to his aged friend, who was chopping sugar-cane in his yard. This old-man was working quite diligently, he didn’t really have time to listen to us, but I still thought he was cool. As we walked away, the member commented, “He’s 104 years old.”
“Ooh, dust in the wind; all we are is dust in the wind”
As missionaries, we work a lot with people who’ve just been baptized, recent converts who sometimes have no idea what’s going on. There is one recent convert named Juan, whom I have only seen in church two times in the six months I’ve been here. It’s mostly because he has a serious drinking problem. Everyone kept telling me, “oh, he was SUPER!” “He was the best member!” “He always worked with the missionaries.” I thought it was impossible that this black-eyed sad man could be the same member they were talking about that is until I saw him. Yesterday morning, dressed up more spiffy than any member in Nicaragua, ready to help us bring more people to church, while we were walking, a conversation started. “Hey, Hermano, did you go to the parade yesterday?” “Of course not, Hermana” “Why not, Juan?” “There are too many temptations there that can make me become how I used to be.”
“Ooh, dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind.”
Most of the time, missionary life is just you and your companion in your area, working hard, saving souls, but sometimes other missionaries get involved. That was a real trial this past week. With another missionary in my zone spreading rumors that just aren’t real. (Sigh) It was quite strange to feel a little angry and a little sad. About the things they were saying: I could tell it was bugging me and impeding my sensitivity to the spirit. So, I called one of my beloved leaders and he basically said “Hey, just forget about it, The Lord knows you. Let it go. “And it seemed that in that moment, it hit like water on hot pavement and was gone. Oh, the sweet sense of peace. “Ooh dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind”
Walking in the heat of the day at 2:00pm is rather boring in Chichigalpa. Everyone is working or sleeping. Contacting is about the most fun you’re going to have, so why not do it? Right? We had just finished telling some very catholic people about the happy message of the restored gospel, when we looked up. There was my beloved San Cristobal, its volcanic heights rising above the neighborhoods of Chichigalpa. But this time, furious black smoke billowed from its mouth. I felt a thrill of excitement as a million things ran through my mind: *Mordor, *epic Spock scene in Star Trek, *Mount St. Helen’s eruption, *Walter Mitty long boarding in Iceland as a volcano explodes. Unfortunately, nothing more happened, as in fire or sparksL, (Sigh).
“Ooh, [ash] in the wind; all we are is [ash] in the wind.”
Something has been up with the weather as of late (perhaps, Jesus Christ comes soon), but Sunday was especially frustrating. Such a furious wind storm settled in that almost no one came to church, for all the sand that was in the air. Upon arriving to our house, we found a nice thick layer on everything. Yeah, and that was INSIDE the house. We won’t talk about the shower I took that night. I love my Nicaraguan life, and the church is still true! J
“Ooh, dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind!”
hola! I'm Naomi and I love reading, my amazing family, and the color green.