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May 18, 2000
Dear Friends,
Greetings from Nicaragua, where the rainy season has begun,
refreshing the stiff, dusty land and filling the air with humid
perfume.
I am beginning a three-year term as mission specialist with
the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.). I will be a coordinator of delegations
with CEPAD, the Nicaraguan Council of Protestant Churches. Nicaragua
is not completely new to me, however. I came here in November
1997 to work with Witness for Peace and finished my two-year commitment
just last November. So, having lived in Nicaragua for the past
two and a half years, I consider myself an advanced toddler here,
comfortable with my surroundings, eager to continue learning,
and only occasionally succumbing to a culture-shock-induced temper
tantrum.
Minor miracles and God's grace
It is a miracle to me that I am still here. A year ago I was
convinced that my husband Elmer and I would be in the United States
by January of 2000. I had come to Nicaragua in part to marry Elmer,
and he was ready to follow me in the next stage of our life together.
So I gritted my teeth and braced myself for the difficult and
costly process of getting Elmer, a Honduran citizen, his U.S.
residency and trying to find employment for us in the States.
To make a longer story shorter, in the midst of preparing myself
for this process, I realized
that I was struggling against the current in a river that I wasn't
sure I was meant to be swimming in. My mind was firmly wrapped
around a series of steps I thought I had to take. I was sure I
should get a degree beyond my bachelor's degree by the time I
was 30 and wait until after that to have children. Suddenly, this
sequence was no longer unquestionable; once I opened my mind to
another way of doing things, I felt at peace with myself and with
God. After several days of reflection and discussion with Elmer,
I felt that Elmer and I were meant to be in Nicaragua. Everything
flowed. Several employment opportunities opened up to me, and
by November it was set that I would be working with CEPAD delegations.
When I came back to Nicaragua in February, after PC(USA) orientation,
I began working with CEPAD, a Nicaraguan development and emergency-assistance
organization with a history deeply rooted in Nicaragua and a foggy
future. CEPAD is facing a heavy-duty financial crisis, and they
are cutting Nicaraguan personnel and restructuring their programs
and priorities. Tracey, my PC(USA) colleague, and I have questioned
ourselves, CEPAD and PC(USA) during this tiring, painful and stressful
time of discernment. What will delegation work mean in this institutional
earthquake and re-structuring? Where is CEPAD headed? What might
the changes in CEPAD as an institution mean for the communities
that CEPAD serves? We don't know. It has been a journey of painful
patience and anxious wondering during the last few months, and
we continue to wonder.
Lessons in faith
During my time in Nicaragua I have been through periods of personal
and national tragedy, pain and uncertainty. I have felt loss in
the death of a friend, a family member in Honduras, the national
and international compounded tragedy brought on by poverty in
the wake of Hurricane Mitch—all these events have at moments
brought me to turn my back on God and ask, "Why?" In
the midst of tearful anger towards God I have realized that when
I was growing up I had learned to experience God in things positive,
happy, easy, certain. With a
certain awe and an ever-stretching faith, I am learning to remember
that God indeed walks with us during good times, but is perhaps
most present in our weakness, awkwardness, sorrow, and pain.
Last Sunday I asked the women in my husband's congregation (in
a squatters' settlement in Managua) about their faith in God.
The settlement, a neighborhood called Hialeah, is one of many
of its kind in Managua, with small, overcrowded homes and dirt
streets. Most people live with inadequate shelter, food resources,
and medical care. Others lack the money to send their children
to public school. "What have you learned in your lives about
God's presence?" I asked them. The women's responses were
not unpredictable, but still they raised the hair on my arms.
One of the women, Ana, responded quietly but with great energy.
"In reality, we feel alone and
abandoned when we have a problem. But I have come to think that
God is with us, because if God weren't, we wouldn't be able to
stand it. And we still keep on living, and that's because God
is there right next to us, even if we are in a time of great need.
It is when He is most there. God always accompanies us. I have
always believed this, that He is always there with us in the most
difficult problems we are facing."
I take these things as lessons on faith. They aren't new for
me or for anyone, but they're worth remembering when we are at
our lowest and most confused moments. Maybe I will get the education
I really need by the time I am 30 after all! What will I become?
Where am I going? By embracing the Unknown with a healthy dose
of seeking options and taking responsibility for my actions, I
trust that the answers will become clear as I go.
I hope that you and I may feel the grace of the Living Spirit
as it unfolds in our lives.
In peace,
Ellen Sherby
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