In a Hammock In Canada (How I Discovered Passion)
All I could hear was the dancing of the wind as it wisped through the tops of the pines. Everything else was quiet – no car horns, no television noise, no airplanes, not even a bird chirping. My hammock swung gently between two tall evergreen trees that overlooked the peaceful blue lake. As I rocked back and forth, I leaned my head back and watched the clouds pass over the pointed tops of the trees. The sky was so miraculously blue, like the curtain of the smog of civilization had been peeled back to reveal the sky’s true color. Here I was, in the middle of the wilderness of Quetico Provincial Park in Canada. It was so still, so quiet, so void of distraction, that I closed my eyes and became lost in my own thoughts.
As I felt the sun warming my face, it reminded me of the weather in Nicaragua. As I felt the cool breeze, I could have convinced myself that when I opened my eyes, I would be standing at the cross overlooking Jinotega. When I paddled in the lakes in Canada, the motion reminded me of shoveling cement while working construction with the Nicaraguans. When we ate pancakes that morning for breakfast, it just didn’t seem right to not eat peanut butter with them, which is what we did at the mission all summer. I had a song stuck in my head all day, a Spanish song that we sang at church often. With my eyes closed, I played back memories over and over again. I heard Heilym’s laughter, heard Lester and Efren singing, pictured myself greeting everyone at church, and envisioned all the faces of the people that I have come to love.
It has been over a week since I returned to the states, but I literally cannot get Nicaragua out of my mind. Everything I see or do reminds me of something that I experienced over the summer. Today in the grocery store, I was so disappointed to find that they were out of plantains. When I saw a box of Crème Pies, the first thing I thought of was feet. (Pies is the Spanish word for feet.) I couldn’t even do dishes without thinking about washing dishes with Marina back at the mission.
This past week in Canada, while swinging in my hammock by the peaceful lake, I relaxed and reflected on everything that I experienced in Nicaragua over the course of the entire summer. God showed me and taught me so much that I needed some time to process all of it. I saw so much, felt so much, did so much, learned so much, and grew so much during my internship – it is actually pretty overwhelming the more I think about it. I considered this past week in Canada as my time to sort things through. I wanted to organize and summarize it all in my head.
But as I laid there in my hammock with a pencil and paper, attempting to organize and process everything that was running wild in my head, I had to put the pencil down as tears rolled down my face. In that moment I realized that I could not write what I was feeling. To put into words what I saw and became a part of? Impossible. What I was trying to do was force the depths of my heart into the closet of my mind. Right then, I realized that I didn’t want everything sorted out in my head, I wanted it burning in my heart. So as I swung back and forth in my hammock with the wind blowing my hair and the sun warming my face, I discovered what passion is.
Some things just can’t move to my head; they have to stay in my heart. Nicaragua is just one of those things. When I remember this summer, I don’t want to have a top ten list of things that happened. No, I want to smell the aroma of the market, see the faces of the Nicaraguans that are my brothers and sisters in Christ, and feel the hugs of the children at VBS. I want to hear the church singing, feel the babies at Casa Materna in my arms, and sense the indescribable joy that comes from giving a family a brand new house. Passion is not remembering things in your head, it is feeling them beat in your heart.
So if I try to tell you a story or show you a picture of my summer in Nicaragua, and I happen to choke up, laugh, or cry uncontrollably, it is because this place lives vibrantly in my heart. It is because I gave up trying to sort things out in my mind. Instead, I just let all the memories, experiences, and relationships burn wildly in my heart. God has graciously given me this vivid memory and this sincere emotion - and He’s molded it into uncontainable passion. I really do not think I will ever think, feel, or live the same way ever again. And because I am not shoving my memories into my head, but letting them run free in my heart, I don’t believe these emotions will fade. Over time, I suppose that I will readjust to life in the States and become more accustomed to this fast-paced culture. But at the same time, I will not be normal ever again. Nicaragua and its people gave me a new worldview and a new lifestyle, one that will not become diluted over time. That’s because this summer was not just a good experience. It was not just an internship. It is not just a memory. It’s a passion.
As I felt the sun warming my face, it reminded me of the weather in Nicaragua. As I felt the cool breeze, I could have convinced myself that when I opened my eyes, I would be standing at the cross overlooking Jinotega. When I paddled in the lakes in Canada, the motion reminded me of shoveling cement while working construction with the Nicaraguans. When we ate pancakes that morning for breakfast, it just didn’t seem right to not eat peanut butter with them, which is what we did at the mission all summer. I had a song stuck in my head all day, a Spanish song that we sang at church often. With my eyes closed, I played back memories over and over again. I heard Heilym’s laughter, heard Lester and Efren singing, pictured myself greeting everyone at church, and envisioned all the faces of the people that I have come to love.
It has been over a week since I returned to the states, but I literally cannot get Nicaragua out of my mind. Everything I see or do reminds me of something that I experienced over the summer. Today in the grocery store, I was so disappointed to find that they were out of plantains. When I saw a box of Crème Pies, the first thing I thought of was feet. (Pies is the Spanish word for feet.) I couldn’t even do dishes without thinking about washing dishes with Marina back at the mission.
This past week in Canada, while swinging in my hammock by the peaceful lake, I relaxed and reflected on everything that I experienced in Nicaragua over the course of the entire summer. God showed me and taught me so much that I needed some time to process all of it. I saw so much, felt so much, did so much, learned so much, and grew so much during my internship – it is actually pretty overwhelming the more I think about it. I considered this past week in Canada as my time to sort things through. I wanted to organize and summarize it all in my head.
But as I laid there in my hammock with a pencil and paper, attempting to organize and process everything that was running wild in my head, I had to put the pencil down as tears rolled down my face. In that moment I realized that I could not write what I was feeling. To put into words what I saw and became a part of? Impossible. What I was trying to do was force the depths of my heart into the closet of my mind. Right then, I realized that I didn’t want everything sorted out in my head, I wanted it burning in my heart. So as I swung back and forth in my hammock with the wind blowing my hair and the sun warming my face, I discovered what passion is.
Some things just can’t move to my head; they have to stay in my heart. Nicaragua is just one of those things. When I remember this summer, I don’t want to have a top ten list of things that happened. No, I want to smell the aroma of the market, see the faces of the Nicaraguans that are my brothers and sisters in Christ, and feel the hugs of the children at VBS. I want to hear the church singing, feel the babies at Casa Materna in my arms, and sense the indescribable joy that comes from giving a family a brand new house. Passion is not remembering things in your head, it is feeling them beat in your heart.
So if I try to tell you a story or show you a picture of my summer in Nicaragua, and I happen to choke up, laugh, or cry uncontrollably, it is because this place lives vibrantly in my heart. It is because I gave up trying to sort things out in my mind. Instead, I just let all the memories, experiences, and relationships burn wildly in my heart. God has graciously given me this vivid memory and this sincere emotion - and He’s molded it into uncontainable passion. I really do not think I will ever think, feel, or live the same way ever again. And because I am not shoving my memories into my head, but letting them run free in my heart, I don’t believe these emotions will fade. Over time, I suppose that I will readjust to life in the States and become more accustomed to this fast-paced culture. But at the same time, I will not be normal ever again. Nicaragua and its people gave me a new worldview and a new lifestyle, one that will not become diluted over time. That’s because this summer was not just a good experience. It was not just an internship. It is not just a memory. It’s a passion.
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