Washing Hands in Nicaragua

In the Bible, Jesus washed his disciple’s feet, demonstrating the humility and servitude we too should exhibit. Before this week, I thought that example was simply to show how Jesus put others before himself. I didn’t realize that the act of serving others in such a simple way can mean much more.I was able to experience this on Friday. The wife of the pastor at the church CICRIN attends came on Thursday night to tell us her story and ask us if we would help with her ministry the next day called Helping Hands which helps poor women on Ometepe in the name of Christ.Ruth began by saying that some children are not wanted—her own mother wished she had been a boy—but that God wants every single one of us no matter what and has a plan for each of us. Ruth’s parents passed away by the time she was twelve and she went to live with her grandparents while her siblings went with other family members. At fifteen, she left home and forfeited her education. She worked and became a single mother to five children. She drank, did drugs, had sex, and danced (which we all laughed at—I’m still not sure if she was totally serious). At twenty-six, she was at the end of her rope and knew she could not continue in this way anymore so she turned to God and said, “what do you have for me Lord? Nothing the world has given me is worth anything anymore so what do you have to offer?” She accept Christ and a year later, she prayed not be alone anymore, that her children would have a father. God answered her prayer and six months later, Ruth got married and had two more children, one of whom now works at CICRIN. She has since devoted her life to serving God.After that, she explained that we would be doing the nails of “lost” women and praying for them.The next day after our morning ministry work, all nineteen of us piled in the fifteen passenger van and drove to a poorer part of the island. We set up tables and chairs outside of a house that belonged to a friend of Ruth’s. Two of us stood at the first table with a bowl of water and soap to wash the women’s hands; at the second, we clipped and filed their nail; at the third, we gave them hand massages and applied lotion; the fourth, we painted their nails; and the fifth, we gave them coffee and homemade empanadas and massaged their backs.My first task was to go with one of the CICRIN teachers to invite women to come. We walked down the dirt street, knocked on doors, and went into convenience stores. The teacher, Aleda, called each of the women by name, hugged them and their children, and explained that there were some young ladies down the road who wanted to do their nails. Most of the women came. Some had to work but came later and only a few didn’t show up.That for me was really cool to see. If someone had invited me, I would put up a wall and come up with many reasons why not to go and I would judge whoever it was that invited me. Why are they to think I need this? Wouldn’t I just do it on my own if I did? Are they going to force me to pay after? Is it even real or will there be people who leap out at me when I arrive? Perhaps, Ruth and her friends have built trust, maybe the culture is different here, or perhaps God opened their hearts. Either way, they came, and I enjoyed being a part of it.All their houses had dirt floors and very sparse belongings. There was maybe a hammock or a chair, the kitchens had one of those big plastic sinks you find in garages, and the walls had a few pictures and decorations. It was surprising that although they had little, what they did have, they kept organized and clean. Also, their kids were adorable. One tiny little girl with a pixie cut gave me a giant hug when I walked in and it was sweet how trusting she was.On the way to houses, Aleda held my hand. At first it was because she needed help with the stairs because of her knee but then she just continued to hold on as we walked. She spoke in Spanish and I understood little but she didn’t seem to need a reply as long as I held on and nodded. At one house, while we waited for a woman to change her clothes, I told Aleda that learning Spanish was hard. She was understanding and began saying how important practice was and that I should learn basic words first. They were words I already knew but it was comforting to see her wanting to help me and desiring for me to succeed.Back at the house, I took up my station as one of the back massagers. The atmosphere was very peaceful and light. Aleda and Ruth welcomed each woman with so much love and served them as they would serve family which made it easy for us to follow suite. (I think) all of us felt comfortable serving the women even though we were in a situation we had never been in before, were doing intimate things with strangers, and could not communicate well with them. Even so, there was much laughter and smiles. We invited more women who passed by and around 15-20 came. Ruth prayed for one woman who has having trouble with one of her feet and then we walked her back to her house.My favorite part was when I was massaging one girl and I could feel that one side of her back had a lot of knots. I worked on that particular side for a while and then she said something in Spanish to me and the woman next to us that I couldn’t understand. One of my teammates translated for me that she always had pain in that shoulder. She looked somewhat embarrassed that I was spending so much time on her and actually being intentional with what I was doing but she also looked happy. I asked if it hurt in a bad way and if she wanted me to keep going and she replied that it was good and if I could do a little more. She looked content as she left.Although this ministry was not what I expected to be doing here, I was glad that I got to be a part of it. By serving these women in such a simple way, we were all placed on the same level which relieved a lot of the tension that I normally feel when interacting with people who are from such a different world. I hope they felt the same way.