As you might imagine, there’s too much to tell from last week’s mission trip for just one post. And having only been back three days, I’m still processing it all, so as it ruminates in my mind I expect to share more here.
But for now let me just say this: there are beautiful, sweet people children and young women out there — in Nicaragua and in the world — who have been mistreated in unspeakable ways, who long to be loved and to matter and somebody needs to tell ’em that that they matter to God, they matter to people, and that not all people are out to mistreat them.
That sums up last week well, I think.
The shelter for “women” was full of little girls — I’m talking 6, 7, 8 year old girls — and teenagers with babies.
The people who were supposed to take care of them and protect them didn’t or can’t, and now a lot of these children have no one; no one to play with them, no one to teach them, no one to braid their hair or tell them they’re bonita (beautiful).
Before the trip, nearly every person on the team named as a goal of the trip to love on people and to show God’s love to people. There is no doubt in my mind or heart that the girls there felt loved by us, and we made sure and told them that we love them because God loves them, that He sent us to them for that reason.
At the end of the week they went around a circle, one by one, and thanked us for coming from “so far away” and for teaching them to crochet and knit and to make jewelry and to play games and share about God with them.
I said during a time of sharing with our mission team that I loved these girls before I got here — that’s why I came — but now they’re in my heart and in my memories and in the photos on my camera.
Their little innocent faces are etched into my soul forever, and all week long I prayed that I see all of them again someday in eternity.
I thought of the song that says “thank you for giving to the Lord” and details how people came up to a man in heaven and told him thanks for little things he had done on Earth that led to them accepting Christ. I hope someday to see Sodi and Charley and Yomari and little Jemili on the streets of heaven, not so they can come tell me thanks but so they can be there in amazing eternity and never be hurt again and can experience God’s love fully.
I may see them again on earth, too. All week long I was heard saying “when I come back ….”
Chances are, even if I do go back, those same girls won’t be there. I kinda hope they’re not; I hope they recover from the bad things that have happened to them and are able to re-enter society and be educated and have good jobs. That’s a tall order given the circumstances they have been in and in a country like Nicaragua, but it’s not impossible because nothing is impossible with God.
The title of this post — Somebody Tell ‘Em — is from a song by City Harbor. It says:
Somebody tell them that the lost are saved
Somebody tell them that their debt’s been paid
And let them know love is calling out their names
Somebody tell them, they’re the child of the king
And there is an end to this suffering
And hope that never fades through grace that’s made a way
Last week, our team of nine were just a bunch of somebodies, somebodies who were tellin’ and showin’ ’em about Jesus.
That’s all they need. Somebody tell tell ’em, somebody to love ’em.