4 minute read
This Little Light of Mine
home, farm, & garden
River of Life
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I am in Nicaragua. I find it ironic that the month prior to the Surry Living issue devoted to exploring the rivers of Surry County, North Carolina, instead finds me here in this arid, thirsty land. Honestly, even though it is the rainy season and thunderstorms could roll out of the mountains with little notice, the heat is oppressive and I miss the verdant pastures, overflowing creeks, and river-rich landscape of home. I was here in Nicaragua last year right before the pandemic hit. Our small team had a plan, but shortly after we arrived, we found out about a village that sits right at the bottom of the largest volcano in Nicaragua. The village had run out of water. The well in the center of town had failed, the creeks and arroyos had dried up, and the people were in desperate need. Now picture a village of adobe mud huts stitched together with discarded metal roofing, plastic sheeting, cardboard, and whatever else the villagers could find, and you’ve got a glimpse of the place. Now add in the fact that besides no electricity, there are no cars, only a few run-down motorcycles, and several old bicicletas (bicycles), and now no water. No water to drink, bathe in, cook and clean with, cool off with, nothing. It took us over an hour to make the short, five mile or so dirt and rock trip up from the main road through the lava and cane fields to reach the village with the water truck. We had made it just the day before, on our scouting trip, in only 15 minutes. But it was the heavy, sloshing and rocking dangerously water truck that now brought the village to life. Suddenly the paths filled with women and children and a few men (most of men of the village were away working in the cane fields). Everyone had a container. Dirty buckets, pans, rain barrels, even a few plastic bags and cups. Whatever would hold water, that’s what they brought to us to be filled. Where the day before they had been grateful for the toys and the watermelons we had brought, today those same streets were filled with excitement, enthusiasm, and hope. They had water. It is wonderful to be part of an organization that reaches out, literally seeks out, the hopeless, the lost, and the forgotten of the world (BWCM.org). I volunteer at the community meals in our hometown, and I’ve helped at our small town’s soup kitchen and other charitable organizations, but I’ve not personally seen a more powerful combination of need converging with provision resulting in genuine gratitude. Take a mental trip with me if you will. Imagine a dry spell like we have sometimes in Surry. Now imagine it extends from one month to two, then three, then six months. There is no water in the faucets. The wells are dried up. No showers or baths, no laundry, no fresh water to drink or pools to play in. The lawns all turn brown, then to dust as even the weeds dry out and die out. The crops and the livestock suffer at first, then they begin to die. As a farmer, you have to sell quickly before you lose everything, but even when you do, you’re lucky to break even because your crops, if they survived at all, are small and pitiful. Your livestock have lost their healthy glow and the weight has fallen off. Ultimately you must unload it all before you lose everything. Then imagine with me if you will, that it happens again next year. And the next. Meet Nicaragua. And yet the people go on – I think, because, honestly, where would they go? This is their home. This is where their parents, grandparents, and great grandparents have lived all their life. It is all they know and like us, they love their families and their homes. But life can be hard, and survival isn’t always guaranteed. They struggle and press on and watch the skies and hope for some relief. Sometimes, when they’re watching, the thunder echoes, the rains come early, the rivers swell, and the sweet smell of a thunderstorm comes drifting across the dry, desert valley to break the sweltering heat and bring blessed relief. And there it is, that powerful combination of need converging with provision resulting in genuine gratitude. “God is good,” they say. “Si, si, si,” I agree. “God is good, and the rivers have begun to flow.” Pray with me for Nicaragua – but pray also for us all. On the last day, the climax of the festival, Jesus stood and shouted to the crowds, “Anyone who is thirsty may come to me! Anyone who believes in me may come and drink! For the Scriptures declare, ‘Rivers of living water will flow from his heart’” (John 7:37-38, NLT). "... I’ve not personally seen a more powerful combination of need converging with provision resulting in genuine gratitude."
by Larry VanHoose
The people of the little village of Santa Cruz had to sacrifice cleanliness during the long drought (above). Watermelon was a big hit both times we visited. Along with rice and water, we were able to treat the entire village each visit for $20 US dollars (below). San Cristóbal Volcano. The village of Santa Cruz sits below and to the left of this image.
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