Maybe I actually like raising support?!

Throw-back to Mae's 4th birthday party, surrounded by friends--many of these families now support us

I’m not normally a very emotional person (except when it comes to sappy commercials and movies where dogs die), but I found myself tearing up today as I was making a list of everyone who has supported our ministry financially this year. 

Raising support is not my favorite part of being a missionary.  I was a missionary kid for 6 years, and in that time raising support meant travelling around from church to church listening to my dad preach the same sermon Sunday after Sunday and my parents dressing us up in African clothing to stand in front of blank-faced Sunday School classes where we were asked “Do you speak African?” and “Do you ride an elephant to school?” Now, as an adult missionary, it means asking people for money, which is my mind is equivalent to going to the dentist. 

Over the last three years, I have been told over and over by very wise people what a blessing raising support can be, and although I always agree in theory, believing it in my heart is not as easy.  As I was making this list of supporters, though, I was overwhelmed by the feeling of being blessed.  Not by the number of people who have given, or the generous amounts they have given, but by WHO has given. 

For every name on the list, I can picture a conversation I have had with someone, a meal shared in someone’s home, someone asking “How is it going, really?”, a big hug, a babysitter, a college roommate, dear family members, double dates, birthday parties, Bible studies…. Pieces of a beautiful, shared life.  These are not just people who write us a check every month, they are people who care for us deeply, and who we care for too.  They are people who we miss, but the people who make it possible for us to be here in this place, doing what we know God has called us to do. 

This solid, on-paper reminder of how many amazing people we are privileged to have in our lives encouraging us, praying for us, loving us, is one of the (many?) reasons that raising support us such a blessing.

Angel

For the last month, our family has hosted a 7th-grade NCA student in our home during the school week. Angel is Nicaraguan, but spent all of his growing-up years in the US until coming back to Nicaragua to live with his grandmother about two months ago. After struggling through the first month of school at NCA, Ruth and I decided to offer our home as a place to stay during the school week for the rest of the school year. We're able to keep Angel from having to use the public bus system to get to and from school. . .his grandmother lives about 45 minutes from NCA, and it is not easy to navigate the buses here for a new-to-Nicaragua 7th grader! We're also able to help support Angel with schoolwork, something his grandmother could not do as well as she'd like as she is struggling with her health.

We've enjoyed getting to know Angel. He comes home with us on Monday afternoon, and goes back to be with his family on the weekends. School is difficult for Angel, and we spend between 2-3 hours each night by his side, encouraging him on his projects, helping him study, and working on organization skills. This is stretching for Ruth and I (and our kids have learned to be patient as they "share" us with another "sibling"), but it has been rewarding to see him become more successful tackling the tough academic load of NCA!

Angel is awesome with our kids. . .he plays Clash Royale and Geometry Dash with Henry (he even has his own YouTube channel!), swims with Charlotte, and chases Mae around the house. He keeps count of how many times he scares people around the house (I think he is at 23). He is a constant conversationalist. He asks for "more" chapters after each Bible story for our dinner devotions, which has made our own kids more excited about family devotions, too. We're thankful he likes a busy family environment, and that we have space to give him at least a small room (very small--think Harry Potter, but his own!) to which he can escape if needed.

I'm thankful to be married to a hospitable wife who was excited to open up our home to an NCA student (it was really and truly Ruth's idea, which if you no her, is no surprise)! I'm thankful for our three kids who are flexible, kind, and willing to share space and attention! I'm thankful for Angel and how he has become a part of our family this semester.

When Do I Give Up?

As many of you know I (Ruth) have been leading a childbirth class/support group for pregnant women in a community of Managua called Nejapa for the last year and a half.  In that time, I have developed classes on 14 topics related to pregnancy, childbirth, and newborn care (all in Spanish). I have loved doing this because it is one place where I am able to use my experience as a labor and delivery nurse and my love of pregnant women to make a real difference in the lives of these women by empowering them with knowledge. 

Recently, though, I have been feeling discouraged.  We run the classes in a 16 week series (because no one stays pregnant forever), and we are currently on our fifth group of women.  The average size of our group has been about 4-5, which I think is an ideal number for building relationships.  Our previous group had 13 women, which was wonderful, but almost too big (imagine trying to do yoga with 13 women on the small patio of a clinic).  This time, though, only 1 or 2 women have been coming each time. 

Honestly, it is really hard to be motivated to put time and effort into planning a class that only one person comes to (especially if she arrives 45 minutes late!).  It also makes it hard to plan interactive activities, which I think are essential to the success of the class (“Choose a partner and share your delivery experience… oh wait, you’re the only one here!").  One of the main goals of this group is that it will be a place where women can feel supported and encouraged by other women who are in similar situations.  That is very difficult to accomplish when so few come.

So, lately I have been asking myself a lot of questions… Why aren’t women coming? What could we be doing differently? Is it even worth doing the classes? At what point do we just give up?

I truly believe that there is a need for more education among pregnant women in Nicaragua.  I have no data to support this, but from the time that I have spent listening to the women who come, it is obvious that they are hungry to learn and understand.  I have also been made aware of how little education they get from their doctor at the clinic or in the hospital.  Basically (and sadly, literally), they are told to just be quiet and obey.  When I first started teaching this class, I did a lesson on informed consent, asking questions, and communicating personal opinions and desires with your health care providers.  I quickly learned that as nice as these concepts sounds, and as important as they seem, they really aren’t practical here.  Sadly, doctors are not open to questions or opinions.  This makes my job as leader of these groups even more important, my goal is to explain everything they need to know and answer questions they may have ahead of time.  So yes, I think it is definitely worth doing the class.

BUT.... I also understand that these women make a lot of sacrifices to come to the class.  It is two hours a week when they would normally be cooking, cleaning, and accomplishing the long list of task they have to do to provide for their families.  Many have other children at home, so bringing them along or finding someone to watch them is not very practical.  To get to the class, they either have to walk a considerable distance (pregnant, in 90+ degree weather), or pay money they don’t have for a moto taxi.  I understand that they have many reasons not to come. These women live their lives in survival mode, and they don’t need this class to survive.

But, does that mean we should stop doing it?

I don’t have an answer to that right now.  Maybe you do…..