Glimpses of Las Mangas

the Congrejal tumbles over rocks and around boulders through a river bed sometimes 3 times its size. This, we understand, is the work of Hurricaine Mitch in 1998, clearing a path for an unprecedented quantity of water and changing the river´s course in places.
The occasional groupings of houses and storefronts are diverse -- some large modern homes with shiny SUVs parked behind substantial gates, a few mud-stick houses with thatch manaca roofs, and many more modest tin-roofed places.
Finally, a green sign announces that we have reached Las Mangas, and we pull into the driveway of the campus, or campamento as the neighbors call it. Tony -- who has spent quite a bit of time on the campus over the last few years -- gives us a quick tour of the place: the dormitories, the study and library and hammock room, the kitchen and dining hall, and the house across the street that once belonged to Chris and Trish. It is a beautiful place -- apparently well built structues with a strong sense of rustic aesthetics. Imagine a church family camp up in the mountains somewhere -- it´s something like that.
We meet Peter in the street shortly after the tour -- machete in hand and distinctive beard on face. Kelly hops and skips to greet him and he smiles wide to see her -- the first time in 2 years. The next hour or two we spend catching up with him in various ways.
That was our first visit. A week later we returned for the weekend. Our friend Jina was staying down the street, and we wanted more time with her and in Las Mangas, so we leapt at the opportunity.
It has been both exciting and sobering to see the place we plan to spend the next 9 or 10 months. It is sobering in that we are more aware now of the realities of life there. Peter told us familiar stories of being asked for money a lot, not being repaid for loans, and dealing with discipline and cheating problems in his English classes; as well as more disconcerting tales of being a target of armed robbery.
We knew that money would be an issue here, as it usually is when the relatively wealthy (at least in material terms) move in with the relatively poor, but it still provoked thought and concern to be confronted with the reality of it. You can pray with us about good ways to respond in love to the needs here.
There were also smaller things: an abundance of biting insects; tinier organisms in the river and elsewhere that can cause skin infections and worse (Peter reminded us after we had been swimming already); the grinding poverty and difficulty of farming one´s way out of it; and how much more we have to learn in order to communicate with people who slur the language will know so little of.
But we are excited too, for even better reasons. The people are very warm and friendly, and many of them remember Kelly. We spent an afternoon with Rubenia and Santo Ramirez, who live about 45 minutes from Las Mangas with their small farm, modest home, 4 boys, and a wonderful sense of hospitality. Santo showed me some of what he´s growing; Rubenia squeezed us some orange juice; we sang songs with their old guitar and laughed at the various livestock.
The campus is beautiful, and it´s a joy to look forward to being in a particular place, living together, making little improvements, hosting others. We made homemade bread and spaghetti...mmm. It is also much cooler in Las Mangas than the city, and the water is good straight from the faucet. And there is a sense of tranquility that doesn´t seem to exist in the city.
Finally, we are rejoicing and thanking the Father at the chance to be here doing this together. Kelly fell in love with Las Mangas, I fell in love with Kelly, and now we have the chance to love more and more: our God, each other, and our neighbors in this little corner of the world. I haven´t really felt a pang of homesickness yet -- the old maxims are true that you bring your home with you when you´re married. We are like a turtle, praise the Lord.