POST by SEZ: Titan Trickster

Sezni Tricking

On Tuesday I practice a flip on the floor it's a back hand spray.  I practice it sideways and a little forward. I can even do roundup it's running then kart wheel then a back hand spray.

Now I learn  tricking with five trickers. Aben, Stievey , Beycker, Rene, and Yordy my  trick teachers. Aben is practicng a new trick, Stivey is practicing a double front flip, Becker is practicing triple back flip, Rene s practicing a three sixty double front flip, Yordy  double back flip.

  

I'll do tricking  at school.   

My favorte tricker is Aben becuase he teaches me many tricks. I like roundup because it makes me look like I'm flying. It looks like I'm a nerd.It makes me feel wiggley .  I can't wait to be able to be a tricker like Aben, Steviey, Beycker, Rene, Yordy. And I'm now practicing on kart wheel without hands.

On Saturday I had a tricking contest and I came second because Fran and Renzy were cheated because I didn't finish my trick.  I got cookies and gatorade.

Sezni Winning the Tricking Contest

POST by SEZ: Titan Trickster

On Tuesday I practice a flip on the floor it's a back hand spray.  I practice it sideways and a little forward. I can even do roundup it's running then kart wheel then a back hand spray.

Now I learn  tricking with five trickers. Aben, Stievey , Beycker, Rene, and Yordy my  trick teachers. Aben is practicng a new trick, Stivey is practicing a double front flip, Becker is practicing triple back flip, Rene s practicing a three sixty double front flip, Yordy  double back flip.

  

I'll do tricking  at school.   

My favorte tricker is Aben becuase he teaches me many tricks. I like roundup because it makes me look like I'm flying. It looks like I'm a nerd.It makes me feel wiggley .  I can't wait to be able to be a tricker like Aben, Steviey, Beycker, Rene, Yordy. And I'm now practicing on kart wheel without hands.

On Saturday I had a tricking contest and I came second because Fran and Renzy were cheated because I didn't finish my trick.  I got cookies and gatorade.

POST by RENZ: Nothin' like Nica-Neatness

You might not think it , but Nicaraguans are clean freaks. The women are always sorting and cleaning things, even when they are not at their own house! I guess they probably clean because it is so humid and there is a lot of dirt everywhere.

It is mainly the poorest people that look the best out of everybody for some strange reason. Probably because they do not like to look poor or something like that. They have like five showers a day at least and are always washing their belongings.

Now, because of them, I wash my shoes a lot more than I used to and wash my clothes by hand because for some reason I find it fun. That, and I also like washing mops and mopping the house and the porch. Every day, a mum of one of the kids in our school comes to help clean the "school areas".

Jonny & Lorenzy

I was talking with one of them one day whilst we were cleaning and I asked her if she liked cleaning. She said that she likes doing it and also especially at our house because we had tiled floors and it is more fun. The next day I asked another kid's mum and she said the same thing.

Jonny, one of the guys that teaches dance to the kids, my siblings, and I, is sick right now with a cold and  stuffy nose. The way he blows his nose is the most interesting way that I have ever seen anybody blow their nose. He does it two different ways. The first way is he blows with his fingers on his nose and then flicks his fingers it is really weird and I cannot even explain it.

The second way is with his shirt. He always carries another shirt with him and blows it like that, which I thought was really weird, because he is Nicaraguan and I thought blowing his nose with his shirt would be his last option but then again, I have never seen him blow his nose with toilet paper.

POST by FRAN: Our Special Spiderman

Our house has a brick wall around it; the wall has wire with spikes on the top. There are green, leafy plants that grow up the wall, which makes our wall look like the wall that is around the ´Secret Garden´. We have a green ´gate´, which is more like a metal door, with a door bell on the wall next to the gate.

We need a wall here in Nicaragua, mainly to keep the robbers out, but it´s also to indicate what is your property and someone else´s. If we didn´t have a wall our dogs would go nuts because of all the animals that pass our house and people would probably try put their cows and horses to graze in our property.

Sezni loves watching the movie ‘Spider-man’ because it is full of excitement and danger. Spider-man can climb walls and throw webs. It’s a really fun movie to watch, but have you ever seen Spider-manin real life? I have, but his name is not Peter Parker, it is Rodrigo!

Rodrigo is a boy that lives at the end of our street, he says that he is five years old, but he´s somewhere around 19.  He has autism which means that he doesn´t really respond to anything, he is special. He wears the same clothes every day and is here every hour of every day, of every week!

Dad told him that he could help us at the school and learn how to read and write. He loves being at our house! So now, Rodrigo is my Dad´s little helper, on the week days from eight to twelve, but not the week ends!

Rodrigo always wants to be at our house but if we don´t want anyone here we won´t let him in, and those days are usually on Saturdays, family day. He always ends up coming and ringing our door bell. DING, DING, DING!!! And he came on a Saturday DING, DING, DING!!!! Nobody went to open the gate. DING, DING, DING, DDIDIDIDIDIIDDDINGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After the five minutes of the doorbell dinging there was silence. ¨I think Rodrigo left¨ proclaimed Sezni. ¨I´ll go check¨ said Beycker. ¨AHAHAHHHAHAHAHHAHHAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!¨ Laughing came from Beycker´s voice ¨you have to come see this, Fran!¨ We laughed for at least seven minutes.

Mum came out of here room and asked ¨what is wrooooo HHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!¨ and ran back to her room to fetch the famous camera. What we saw was something out of the ordinary! A head peaking over our large wall, the head belonging to Rodrigo! He had thrown his shoes over the wall, climbed the wall and was trying to throw himself over!

Beycker, Jonny and I went to the gate and stood outside just watching Rodrigo move his butt around! His torn jeans were caught onto the wire with the spikes, as was his T-shirt. Jonny went and helped Rodrigo climb down.

We let Rodrigo in and then half an hour later he left. I guess we are here in Nicaragua for people that want family and friends.

Politics: Nicaragua Warms to Chinese Investments

Nicaragua’s leftist government, which has diplomatic relations with Taiwan, is seeking to lure investments from China - in part to offset a possible loss of support from its regional ally Venezuela. 

CLICK here to read article

POST by JED: Planes, Trains & Automobiles - Part 6

The trip back from just north of Minneapolis to the southwest of Minnesota was quick. I fanged it the whole way, placing the car on auto-pilot and not slowing down for corners. Poor Lizzie tried to sleep but kept awaking  to her feet hurtling an inch from her ear, the gear stick becoming lodged in her bellybutton and her face being rearranged on the previously spotless passenger window.

There was simply not a second to spare, though I refrained from reminding my delectable darling of this crucial actuality, for fear of my sleeping beauty's insatiable temper and her probable desire to ram the offending gear stick into my physical person.

As we sailed along another of America's never ending motorways, Liz and I barely talked. We sat together in quiet contentment, feeling completely affirmed by our visit with Zimmerman Community Church in the morning and wondering what might come of the remaining Churches in our North American itinerary.

Rattling along, we listened to Christian radio stations - positive, encouraging... After some time we flicked through the other 101 radio stations and found a delightful array of country, techno and heavy metal - we finally settled upon a Latino radio station, and laughed whilst enjoying the culture of our new home. The passion, the humour, the never ending chatter between, at the beginning of, and during each and every song.

We arrived back at our Lake Front Cottage, complete with jacuzzi, satellite tv, in-house doctor, and room for  a pony, with copious quantities of time. We sprinted through the shower, Superman through phone-booth style, whipped on our holy suit (Jed) and fanatically fellowshiping frock (Liz), gulped 2.5 cups of coffee (Liz sipping green tea, or some equally ghastly drink)and reverted back to the car.

To our delight, and simultaneous horror, our ever radiant hosts, Dom and Walther, their parents, brothers, sisters and in-laws would be escorting us to Mountain Lakes Assembly of God Church. Their support of us was to be invaluable. The nerves we'd be confronted with, on account of their presence, would nearly kill us.

We were pressed for time but thankfully Dom, a local - our faithful American friend whom we knew from our teaching days in Mexico,  would navigate the quickest route. As we drove through the Sunday afternoon, slumberville, country town of Mountain Lakes, I thought back to the telephone conversation I'd had with Pastor Savage.

He had seemed keen to have us share, but also questioned me in an apologetic manner, "you know there are larger Churches in town?" Perhaps he was not as nice as he'd seemed. Maybe his questioning was a polite way of saying "thanks, but no thanks..." The rudeness, the absurdity, why didn't I pick up on that during the "planning phase?"

Sometimes I have high, off the charts high, emotional intelligence. Why I can sense the mood of another party even better than they. Sit in front of me and I'll probably be able to tell you what emotions you're feeling, along with what you're currently thinking, whether or not you're happy, sad, wet your bed last night, what you had for breakfast this morning and if you're wearing pink and purple poker dotted underwear. At times, I seem to have a heightened sense of EQ. I can be that good.

Yet, conversely, I can also be that bad. Do you know how embarrassing it can be when your sometimes emotional brilliance enters the arctic regions and completely lets you down?

Try asking an overweight travel agency client who is NOT pregnant, once you've built an abundance of positive rapport with her, and just before taking payment for a $15,000 European holiday, if she's pregnant (because you've been studying her every action and have built your foolproof case). See how that works for you.

Try quietly telephoning, from your airport ticketing station, the customer service agent at the departure gate to let them know you have blocked all seats around Mr. Smith because he smells like he hasn't showered in three years - only to realise that you're actually mistakenly on intercom, sending your highly confidential message to all passengers in the entire terminal, including - but not limited to, Mr. Smith. Impressive?

I haven't even gotten started... The time you go back to work at your "old" job in the UK, and start to talk with your "old" colleagues about what a horror your "old" boss was, not paying attention to their throat-cutting motions and finger waggling (in fact, believing that those gestures were encouraging you on, as if to say "oh yeah, thank goodness she's no more") and then to have your "old" boss tap you on the shoulder and politely, though tersely shake your hand.

Or when you're waiting quietly in the bank teller queue and a stranger races in, laughing and screaming out something you don't quite catch, with arms extended - ready for the embrace, and you meet her halfway with a hug (reserved only for family members) and a kiss (oh yes, now I remember her - or so you think), only to realise, actually for the entire bank to realise, that in fact you've never met the woman before and the laughter, screaming and hugging is for the person in front of you in the queue.

Yes, at times I'm a social bear, not taking in any seemingly obvious signs, and dancing all over another person's emotions complete with party hat, popper and icing from the cake still smeared around my mouth.

Well, in any case, we were here now. I jumped out of the car, admiring the large Church building that stood before me. And then I remembered more of Pastor Savage's words, "we meet in a small building BEHIND the Church."

And there she stood - a building constructed before my birth, but not "vintage" or "heritage listed" if you get my drift. I approached the doorway, the cheerful sounds of Lizzie, Dom and Walther droning around my eardrums. I dodged a walking frame, wheelchair and skateboard. "Interesting", I thought to myself.

Pastor Savage approached me as we walked in - I most likely looking lost, confused, out of place. The sights and smells taking me back to my childhood at Kogarah Bay Congregational Church. My father was a young minister in his 20s and we lived in the manse next to the Church. I was at every Sunday morning service, among other meetings, and regularly climbed on, in and throughout the Church building and it's premises both when occupied and not.

Our scintillating, Sydney, seaside, suburban Church had a bell atop for clanging, a tall brick fence that lead from the ground to the roof of the structure (what 5 year old boy wouldn't want to climb that?), cupboards, an oversized pulpit, chicken coups, etc. At the time I could have been mistaken for thinking the entire mass of brick, metal, and wooden substance (smelling clean, yet dusty) was made entirely for my exploration and sensory delight.

Pastor Savage, or "David" (as he was known around town), was a young fella, possibly in his late 20s or early 30s. I immediately relaxed. In the hour since returning from Zimmerman I'd experienced many emotions about the evening's events, yet at this moment I felt kindred and connected.

Pastor David, married to a gorgeous, Christ-adoring, lover of people, conscientiously watched over a couple of his kids running around the Church hall. They dodged walking sticks, breathing apparatuses and knitting needles.

As I chatted with him, I began to connect-the-dots from both our previous telephone conversation and the discussion we were now having.

Mountain Lakes Assembly of God had once been a prominent Church in the local community. For one reason or another the average Church member had aged and the Church had begun to die a physical death, along with folk from the congregation.

To me it's a perplexing factor for the Assemblies of God Churches in the US. In my experience, I have to say, that I have only ever witnessed a can-do attitude amongst Assembly of God Churches in Australia.

Not to say that Aussie Churches are perfect or that they aren't shutting their doors on occasion, because that does happen.

Before we started attending our home Church, Capital Edge Community Church (where we've been members for 13 years), we twice visited Woden Assembly of God Church. This group of believers were on fire for God and completely "sold-out".

The praise and worship was sincere and musically professional. There existed a community of believers from across the age continuum, a diverse array of nationalities and people of differing socio-economic statuses (our family represented the class of "poverty" in this instance - it is also the "gift" we give to Capital Edge Community Church).

We didn't feel that Woden Assembly was for us and never returned after our first couple of visits. Years later the Church closed it's doors for the final time. Nothing wrong with the people, they were great. The Church just never "took off." There was no immorality, the Church leadership wasn't flawed in any great sense, they didn't have mountains of debt. Their time was just up. The Church members began attending other Churches in Canberra.

With that said, I really feel there is a strong anointing over Aussie Assemblies Churches, (although AG Churches, in Australia they are branded the "Australian Christian Churches") as leadership passionately pursue their communities for Christ, seek to have a voice politically, single-mindedly chase their people's hearts and lives for the Lord, fervently pray, etc (Australian Christian Churches face many challenges too. In my mind, a major issue is that our folk are reluctant to serve in Church. I believe it's a side-effect of our consumer-driven societies).

Yet, across the board, it's fairly safe to say that Aussie AG Churches are on their way deeper, outwards and upwards. This is not categorically the case in America. Some of the largest Churches in the USA are AG Churches, yet many, on a daily basis are shutting down, and why? Who knows... (God does)

Back in Mountain Lakes, Pastor Dave was a God-send to his community. The Church had fully embraced the man and empowered him to do all he could to "save" the Church. Hence, Pastor Dave was on a mission - working on bringing in younger Church members; families, youth, people that would continue the work that a previous generation had started in this sleepy, rural community.

Meeting Pastor Dave was significant for me. He represented my walk with the Lord. I believe God has given me a work to do in my corner of the World. It's relatively insignificant in physical terms, but holds a vast array of eternal value. And so forward do I march. I'm just beginning, with not much begun. Pastor Dave is in the same boat. He believes in the promises of God and has faith in the Church.

Pastor Dave also represents the hope that exists for Churches around the World - the next generation of leaders. As our meeting began, I looked around the room and observed the people who had come - the elderly. They loved Pastor Dave, for some a third their age, and believed in him.

He wasn't flashy or particularly clever. I think his "part" of our service included prayer and "now it's over to you, Jed." However, Pastor Dave has heeded the call to lead God's people and to reap a harvest. He has committed his life and the lives of his young family to what really matters most - souls.

And so what was Minnesota? It was the generous heart of our Heavenly Father, giving us gifts beyond measure. It was love, hope, joy and peace. It was a testimony to me of the power in hearing your calling and running with it, knowing that the God of Heaven holds this Earth in His hands.

Politics: Coming Soon... Nicaragua's One Party Political System

The ruling Sandinista National Liberation Front (FSLN), which since 2007 has eliminated virtually all democratic checks and balances by consolidating single-party control over all four branches of government and state institutions, will be going for a royal flush in November.

The party controlled by President Daniel Ortega and his omnipresent wife has stated that it expects to win “by an avalanche” in essentially every municipality. That prophecy, which will most likely come true, will be a deathblow to municipal autonomy (or what remains of it) and fulfill the president’s publically professed dream of converting Nicaragua into a one-party system.

The opposition fully expects the elections to be farce. The PLI says it’s participating in the process to document the fraud and to convert the spectacle into a “platform for rebellion.” 

CLICK here to read article

POST by RENZ: Just Dance!

Yesterday was Friday, and every Friday is always the craziest day of all because we have school in the morning and at night we have our youth group for the community.

Nica´s are very good at dancing and they love to do it. At youth group, we have different activities that the people can do. We also have competitions and yesterday we had a dancing competition.

The different types of dancing that they could do were break dancing, Latino dancing, or techno.

The week before, we had put flyers out and told everyone about it. Also we had sheets of paper for people to sign up and some people signed up but hardly anybody wanted to. I think they didn’t want to because are shy and nine out of ten people here are guys so they did not have many partners to go with.

The event started out pretty good. We had Alex (the dude that was going to be the DJ) and he had all the music that we wanted or so he said.

We went to a school because we wanted to ask them if they could come and do their independence dance for the opening of the competition. We talked to the director of the school but he said that the instruments could not be used for something outside of school at short notice and that in three weeks they could do their presentation.

We went home and everyone was cleaning the house. I started making dinner but then my dad had just got back from the store and had bought enchiladas for everyone so we ate that instead.

Then we all got ready for the night and made posters for the people that were going to compete.

All of a sudden the power went out and everyone is shouting and screaming. Then, a few minutes later, the power came back on and we were so grateful because youth group was just about to start.

Everyone went outside and the doors to the house were locked. People were swimming in the pool and playing soccer and we were just about to start the competition when the power went out again.

Somebody got cut on their foot from the pool and so my mum had to go into the house and get her ¨medical supplies¨. We were losing our crowd and the only thing that we could do was wait.

Finally the power came back on and so we started the competition.

The first type of dance was break dance. It was only the tricksters/break dancing dudes that participated. Jonny obviously won. He's very good at dancing.

Techno was the second thing and only Rene and Beycker were the only people that danced for that and Rene won.

For Latino dancing a bunch of people danced but only a few got into it.

So far, it was a disaster. When my mum wanted Alex to say something in the microphone, he didn’t do it and so she would have to do it but she doesn’t know that much Spanish so it was a fail.

Some of my sisters and my friends which are twins had done a routine with some other friends of ours and that was really cool because it made everyone excited and it made the night not turn out as bad as it would have been if they did not do their dance routine.

POST by RENZ: My Right to Blare Alarms

Aben & Lorenzy

Sunday´s are most of the time very relaxing days for us but last Sunday was insane and sort of scary. It started out really fun. My sister and I went to the German school because they were having a fair and some friends of ours invited us to go with them. Once we got back we swam and had fun and decided that at night time we would have a movie night.

A friend of mine (our neighbor) came to our house whilst I was making dinner. She asked me to go to Covanic; a place that is a university; a home to some people; it has offices, a library, and things like that.

She needed to do some homework and print some things so a few of the Trickster boys, my sister, my friend, her brother, and I went walking because it was just down the street.

When we got back two of the Trickster boys had gotten into trouble for smoking in the casita where they were staying. They had to move into the shed bedroom for a week because of that, but Rene got mad because he said he didn´t smoke in the casita but had let others smoke in there.

One of the other Trickster boys also got mad because Rene had disrespected my mum and so Aben and Rene got into a fist fight. I went outside to see but they had already finished fighting.

Rene went into the casita and then went inside the main house. I followed him because I wanted to talk to him. He walked into the kitchen and got a drink of water, then he grabbed a big knife and went running to the gate to go outside. My mum grabbed his shirt and tried to stop him.

Rene y Lorenzy

I stood next to him and grabbed his arm which had the knife and with my other hand held the gate shut. He was swinging his arms around and he almost stabbed me so I screamed and let go of him and so he went running to where the others were.

I went running the other way to where Fran and my friend were and told them what had happened and that he had a knife but it was too late, Rene and Aben had already started fighting again.

Luckily, Aben had kicked him and so he did not get stabbed. Jamil, who worked for us but now works in the army made them stop fighting. Then my mum came out and told Rene to go inside.

She first talked with Aben and left him. When she went inside she told Rene to go into her room with her. When she came out she locked the door and we started the movie but she went outside.

In the middle of the movie Rene got out by the window but none of us saw him get out. Then Beycker came inside and told my mum that Rene was outside. And so she put him back in her room and he was in there for the rest of the night.

Rene y Aben

POST by RAF: Black Man

One Friday night when I was playing Table tennis I lost and said I'm tired of playing right now and went to lie down on three couches. And then, after 1 minute my best friend Lackey asked me do you want to play tag with Jorge and me!? I said ok so he said tag and ran away.

The kid that was tagged  the most was me because I am slow at running in circles. So after 5 minutes I ran where Fran works and behind a towel I saw a black man, with wings, black eyes, black anything what he was wearing and when I said hi to him he said ssssssss. Then after that night I told my mom what happened and said maybe that was a spiritual  thing what you saw. 

POST by FRAN: My, My, Myla Vox

Francesca, Myla Vox, Lorenzy, Julissa, Scarleth

"Thud" the mechanical bull successfully threw another child to the bounciness underneath the red and yellow painted bull. It was a Sunday morning around 10:00 o'clock and Scarlet, my friend with very curly hair, took Lorenzy and me to a fair at the German school that was just outside of our barrio (her mum works there).

 The entrance cost 10 cords each person, we thought that everything else was free, but it wasn't... There was a lot to do, but we didn't have any money to do anything! We met up with a friend that goes to scarlet's church, his name is Daniel. Daniel had come with his little brothers and some other friends that also go to scarlet's church.

We decided to sit down and watch some little girls from the school do a fashion show and then watch them sing. We weren't putting that much attention on the little girls though, we were talking and laughing together. People gave us some weird looks, so we decided to go to the venta (corner store) and buy some bread with the five cords that we had!

It took us about 5 minutes to walk to the venta, and on the way Scarlet's mum called her and told her something that made her start jumping up and down and say "Really?!" over and over again. When  she finally hung up she asked me "do you know the guys that sing boom boom bam?" "Myla vox?" I asked "yeah! They are going to sing at the German school in a little while!" " Really!?" (she passed the "REALLY?!" sickness to me now!)

We both caught up to Lorenzy and Julissa (Scarlet's sister), we told them who and what and guess what they said in unison? "REALLY?!?!?!?!?!" We ran to the venta and bought our bread and headed back to the school.

It was hard getting through when we got closer to the school because of the cars and the tight road. There was a man on the rode in tears with a rag wrapped around his hand, Lorenzy looked at him and then  looked back at us "I saw blood squirt out of his wrist!" she said softly, and a little freaked out.

We tried to walk faster to get back to the school and to get out of the crowd of cars and people. We reached the school and sat down on a bench that was propped around a tree, behind the platform. We sat there and chilled for  a while... I was just taking in the cool breeze.

 A minute or so later three well dressed teenagers and a lady approached us, it was them, Myla vox! They shook our hands and said "hello", then they walked to the platform. Scarlet and I got out our phones and went to the front of the platform to record, Lorenzy and Julissa followed.

We were the first girls at the front and so Myla voxQ sang to us, literally! They were pointing at us and coming over to where we were standing and everything! It was really fun! And the best thing was that I knew the songs!

Myla Vox

They sang three songs and then walked off of the platform. Scarlet, Lorenzy, Julissa, and I were the first people to ask for a photo. Then we stood off to the side so that other girls could take a picture as well, Scarlet and I went to the bathroom and by the time we got out they were gone.

We headed for the entrance and met up with one of them, his name was Laken, he was wearing black jeans and a black dress shirt with a purple tie and sunglasses. Scarlet got a photo with him and then we just chatted for a while and after a while Laken said "I have to go now, but it was nice meeting you" (but in Spanish). I quickly asked with hope in my voice "could I have your number?" And to my surprise he gave it to me! We said our Latin good-bye's (you know kiss, kiss, hug, hug) And then Laken started to walk away.

As soon as he was out of sight we screamed and jumped up and down and ran back to where Lorenzy was sitting with everyone else. We told them what happened, but they didn't believe me when I told them that he had given me his number.

We went to the volleyball court and then decided to go home and swim. So we found Daniel's brothers and friends and all 13 of us walked to my house talking and laughing. When we got to my house we all jumped into the pool to refresh our skin from the  hot sun. Around 4:30 everyone went home. It wasn't a crazy day, but an exciting day that I spent with my sister and friends. 

Politics: Nicaragua Exits from U.S. Military School

Stirred to action after the assassination on March 24, 1980, of Archbishop Óscar Romero by a right-wing death squad in El Salvador, Father Roy Bourgeois founded the U.S-based SOAW, and has been campaigning since 1990. He has called the school a “symbol of United States foreign policy whose role is always the same: to protect U.S. economic interests and control the natural resources of Latin American countries.” 

Opponents of the school point to a number of figures in Latin American history who have received training and then committed human rights abuses. Recently, graduate Pedro Pimentel Ríos of Guatemala was sentenced to a symbolic 6,060 years in prison for his actions during the 1982 Dos Erres Massacre that resulted in more than 200 deaths in that country. In total, 11 dictators have attended the school, from Argentina’s Leopoldo Galtieri, to Guatemala’s Efraín Ríos Montt, whose scorched earth campaign has been classified as genocide by a U.N. commission. 

CLICK here to read article

Crime: Accused Mexican Drug Ring, posing as media, on Trial in Nicaragua

The 18 Mexicans said they were journalists from their country’s main television broadcaster, Televisa. They wore the company T-shirt, and the six vans they drove into Nicaragua bore the orange Televisa logo.

The vans contained equipment including computers and cameras. Oh, and also $9.2 million in cash hidden in secret compartments and traces of cocaine.

The exposure of the 18 has proved one of the most vivid illustrations to date of the well-known but often unseen spread of Mexican drug operations deep into Central America, long a conduit and increasingly a base of storage, production and marketing for Mexican cartels.

CLICK here to read article

POST by SEZ: My Super Smash Bros Brawl Fight

On Tuesday, I played a game Called Super Smash Bros Brawl. I played with three people: Steven and Aben, my tricking teachers, and Brian, my step brother. We played Meta Knight, Wolf, Fox, and Lucario. Steven was Wolf, Aben was Fox, Brian was Lucaario, and I was Meta Knight.

When we started to brawl we chose the temple, then Fox was fighting Lucario, and Wolf was fighting Meta Knight. The first one out was Lucario, the second one out was Wolf, third was Fox. Meta Knight was the winner.

Lucario is a Pokemon Dragon, but he has electric powers. Wolf and Fox are the same, but they don´t have the same gun or a ship. Meta Knight is a Kirby guy he is made out of metal and he has dark bat wings.

Super Smash Bros Brawl is my favourite game. 

The Secret Life of a Missionary - Part 3

This blog post is the final post of a series entitled "The Secret Life of a Missionary." I have shared this blog post as I really believe, as Christians, we are missing our call to fulfill the Great Commission: “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.” (Matthew 28: 19-20)

The woman who wrote this blog post has spent several months working here in Nicaragua. she is currently itinerating in the USA so that she can return, with her family, as a missionary to the Nica people. She has endured her share of hardships and blessings, and has had a revolutionary encounter with God. Her eyes are now clear to the task God has given her and she is excited about reaping a Harvest for the Kingdom of God.

"I am a daughter who lost her mother to cancer when she was seventeen.  I am a daughter who struggled with loving and knowing God.  I am a woman who loves her husband and children more than anything on this earth.  I am a woman who struggles with depression and anxiety.  I am a woman who struggles with self-worth.  I am a woman who was so far deep in her “pit” that the only way she knew how to get out of it was by wanting to end her life."

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POST by LIZ: El Barrio Borrowers

Growing up in a large family, property lines were often blurry.  "What's yours is mine" tended to be the way I approached most of my interactions with my siblings and they with me. 

Being the second eldest of five, I spent most of my childhood living in a "big red house" which in reality was a cozy semi-detached house, with one bathroom (I'm not including the outside loo coz no one ever used it due to our arachnophobia), two small living rooms and three bedrooms, all of which were forced to accommodate the six of us, a variety of pets and our neighbourhood friends. 

I still thank God for the large garden attached to our humble abode. Although, we did have a cranky neighbour who hated kids and anything associated with them.  One Summer, I remember being confused over a decision my parents made: For the whole of the Summer holidays, they banned us from playing along the strip of land that we owned, which also happened to be the strip of land that joined our property with his.

His intolerance made it complicated  for my mother to allow us to roam freely in our garden.  It wasn't until I studied the economic term "negative externalities," that I was able to view the situation differently and action what Atticus urged Scout to do in "To Kill A Mockingbird": "to climb into someone's skin and walk around in it" 

But we were kids! We tried our best to interact with him and show this hostile hombre that we Townsend kids were fun, friendly and vivacious.  We would often knock on his door to ask for our ball back; when we were informed that this was an inconvenience for him, we would take initiative and collect the ball by jumping over the high wall he had built, which clearly separated the two worlds - ours and his.

Oh, our creative minds thought up lots of ways to interact with our irritable neighbour: my favourite was hosting a mud throwing competition to see who could make the best throw at his dazzling white camper van he proudly owned. It took some hard smacking of the wooden spoon for it to really sink in why he couldn't value our sport and why he didn't want to share "his target" for our mud pie competition.

We didn't have much growing up, but what we did have we often shared.  There were, however, those times where someone would yell out "That's mine, give it back!", and having a sister who received cool birthday presents and who later earned money before I did and therefore could afford the odd luxury here and there, I was often the one who had the words yelled in my face. 

I really didn't see what all the fuss was about.  I wanted to play with something fun - she had the Tiny Tears Doll that could take away my boredom. The fight over this doll became the bain of my mother's existence. Finally, for the sake of peace, my mum snapped and decided it was best if I didn't play with my sister's beloved doll any more. This decision however lead the doll to encounter a traumatic experience with a permanent marker - that happened to be in my hands at the time - and the poor dear's eyesight was never the same again after my chubby fingers thoroughly checked the eye flutter motion, which had been frequently advertised on TV.

As the years went by my needs changed: It was the 80s so I needed hairspray, she had some. I wanted to see what her clothes would look like on me - her wardrobe was in my bedroom,  I liked science and her make-up was perfect to use for my experiments.  Honestly, without her things, I wouldn't have had such an interesting childhood! 

But slowly I learned what was hers, was hers and not mine!  Which was ironic that this concept took so long for me to learn, as I had younger brothers who often "borrowed" my things which in turn produced the screamer of the phrase "hey that's mine, give it back", in me!

Nicaragua is known as the safest place in Central America but it does have a high petty crime rate.  When we decided to open our home to the community, we knew our things would be "borrowed". 

I have quickly realised that responding in the positive to the phrase "Can I borrow this?" actually means "Here, you can have this!" So I'm learning how to deal with this situation in our host culture so as to not feel ripped off in the process.

We have had many things "borrowed" and while we do our best at locking down the house, we also want to create a family feel to the place.  It's hard to do this if items become the most important element in the equation. 

Our kitchen supplies are often "borrowed".  One day I went to fetch a glass storage bowl to find that there were zero out of the four available.  I hunted high and low yet none were found! I decided to take action.  

At the morning meeting I casually asked for the borrowed glass bowls to be returned.  There was an uproar: people were offended and straight away thought I was accusing them of robbing from us.   "No.." I lied, "I just know that we once had them and now we don't, and I know at times you have to use something to carry food home in (even the food is "borrowed")... "  they were assured of our love for them, and we all went about our day as normal.  The next morning, low and behold, all four glass bowls were perched in the cupboard!

This is the way we usually approach the "borrowing" issue.  We've had backpacks, plates, cups, DS Chips, telephones, clothes, toys, etc., returned to us via our calculated techniques.  The passive, "Hey, have you seen...." technique usually works and the items usually appear in the weirdest places - which makes the average person second guess the situation.

But we always make the point of saying thank-you for returning the item along with a rambled spill about "in our culture when someone wants to borrow something it's polite to ask...so next time please..."

Being very much a part of the community, there have been the odd occasion where we pop into homes for a coffee and a chat, and notice some of the "borrowed" items sitting in a state of "yet to be returned." 

One "borrowed" item I don't tolerate losing is the electric rice cooker pot.  This is a HOT item that most Nicaraguans desire to "borrow".  For some reason they are supremely attracted to it - it seems to be that magic pot that makes the perfect dish every time! They don't want the whole thing, just the detachable pot. 

Honestly, it has probably been the most "borrowed" item. Usually our passive way of retrieving the pot works.  But in one particular instance, two weeks had passed and no rice-cooker detachable pot reappeared. 

I knew exactly who had it.  I even asked her directly to return the pot - which lead to all sorts of drama.  So, I commissioned Jed on a secret mission: operation detachable-rice-cooker-pot retrieval.

He was nervous to confront the matter, yet more afraid of me and my bi-polar reaction if he returned potless. On his red bike he jumped and began his mission. 

He strolled up to the shack which is held together by mud and sticks; greeted them in the usual manner and noticed the grey metal container sitting on the stone - which they would call their kitchen counter. Jed was cool, calm and collected - If I had been there, I would have become that 12 year old kid again yelling out "Hey, that's mine give it back!".  But Jed didn't do that. He sat and made small talk. He laughed and joked. 

Then as he stood up to leave, he reached over and picked up the pot from its drying position and said smiling, "Oh, I can take this back for you if you want." He then kissed the red-faced cheek of our dear friend; jumped on his metal horse and rode home.

The "borrowing" situation is certainly something that we have to deal with on a daily basis.  At times, it can be frustrating and sometimes a limitation to just how much we open up our home and to who and when, etc. 

Sometimes I find myself thinking about the ease it would be to have a separate centre to our home. But then I see it for what it is, and truth be known, it's just like it was growing up - being part of a family far outweighs the frustration of losing-forever "borrowed" items. Things can be replaced. 

Nicaragua Ups Volcano Response as San Cristobal Rumbles

On Saturday, the 1,745-meter (5,725-foot) volcano again spewed “abundant gas emissions moving toward the northeast” and increased seismic tremor and sulfur concentrations, according to the Nicaraguan Institute of Territorial Studies.

Sulfur dioxide monitoring showed levels of the compound – considered a measure of volcanic activity – were nearly double the readings from previous days, said the director of national disaster prevention and relief agency SINAPRED, Guillermo González.

Last week’s explosion caused fractures on the southern wall of the volcano and blockages preventing gas from passing out of three of five vents situated on the south wall of the internal crater, according to Nicaraguan and Salvadoran experts who visited the site.

CLICK here to read article

Economy: Nicaragua Courts Chinese Telecom Giants

Nicaragua now has 4.2 million mobile phones in circulation in a country of nearly 6 million people—an increase of 275% in cellphone use in the past six years. In the rural countryside, more people have access to cellphones than electricity.

CLICK here to read article

POST by JED: Planes, Trains & Automobiles - Part 5

It was to be the beginning of many an introduction, though in this scenario our hosts had to have been especially curious. We'd never met, never even talked on the phone. Our communication had been confined to e-mail and internet photo stalking - Liz and I (well actually myself alone... It sounds less weird if I include Liz as she's more mature) had scoured their website and they may have looked at our Capital-on-the-Edge facebook albums,  and our blog. In any case, each was as unknown to the other. We were from different lands, working in different communities, but united in purpose that all men should know salvation through Jesus.

Wendy had offered for us to stay in her lakefront Minnesotan, home. We were honoured by this gesture, and being ex-YWAM, had no difficulties with the thought of lodging with complete strangers for the night. We snapped up the offer.

Now whether people believe it or not, in my mind I'm the funny guy. Things that race through my brain I just have to say aloud (sometimes prior to thinking and other times not). However, there'd been much self-talk and I'd decided to throw away my hilarious Mike Warnke, Pat Mesiti and Jim Carey laugh-a-minute road show persona and employ the guise of a more serious, all-knowing itinerant preacher type.

I glided spiritually towards the front door, not totally submitting to the natural law of gravity. As my hostess walked before me I stumbled over a step in the dark, tripping and then bounding into the house just ahead of Liz (who must have been thinking how absurd I was to try and race). I was still clutching my Bible when I landed, head nearly smashing into the deluxe fridge-freezer combo-machine. As per usual, Lizzie tip-toed by, proving just how easy it is to place one foot carefully in front of the other.

 And there they were, sitting before me, in all their lovely Americaness; wide grins, warm eyes, welcoming hearts. I was chuffed to be amongst them. Every chap sat next to his spouse and there wasn’t a seat to spare in this creatively decorated country cottage.

We had arrived in Nica style an hour and a half late, not really knowing where we were going (or coming from). Because of the time pressures we hadn’t nourished ourselves with a sufficient lunch prior to our departure from Dom’s wedding – hence we’d stopped on the freeway for a tantalizing taste of cardboard flavoured food. Yum… However, despite the taste and nutritional factors (for that matter), in terms of our desire for additional food, we were now entirely satisfied.

These beaut folk had put on quite a spread. It was in fact a potluck meal and so the diversity of food options were amazing. We each took a plate and enjoyed fare from all over the World. I was now liking these people all-the-more.

We chatted for a while and enjoyed learning all about our new found family. Because truly, that is what the people of Zimmerman Community Church are – they’re our heart and spirit – our home. They are ordinary people who have come together and achieved extraordinary things, because they have stayed the course and sought the face of God.

I learnt that evening of many horrific obstacles this Church has faced. I also was blessed to find unity and devotion cemented into the very foundations of them. The leaders of the Church were very different from one another, in terms of their sexes (lady senior pastor), age (youth pastor in his 20s), occupations (white and blue collar unite), and so-forth. Yet, it was the number one Christian ingredient that completely won me over, love.

We chatted and laughed, talked seriously, prayed, worshipped, ate and sat in complete silence. The night air held anticipation and the hours passed quickly by. Before we knew it we were hugging, kissing, talking of tomorrow and saying our toodle-loohs.

Liz and I bade our farewells and walked pastorally into our designated sleeping chambers. I brushed my speaker’s teeth, washed my presenter’s face, and went to lay out my preacher’s clothing. My preacher’s clothing… MY PREACHER’S CLOTHING? Holy SUIT!!! I had left my suit in my other flip-floppin’ Minnesotan lake front cabin (with Jacuzzi and room for a pony)! What would I do? What would I say? It was at this point I considered trading my profession as a humble missionary from Nicaragua for the role of Holy Ghost Miracles Man.

There were no options available. I had to confront the moment head-on. I slunk sheepishly back into the lounge room and tapped my pastoral friend, Wendy, who was now reading her Bible (darn, I thought to myself – I should have brought my Bible!), on the shoulder and explained my predicament. Wendy, in complete grace, let out whimsical laughter.

“Jed!” she said, “you’re looking at a woman who just a few years ago wouldn’t let her daughters go to Church in jeans. I now preach in jeans! The freedom we have in Jesus, Jed, it’s a mighty thing.” Wow, I thought, humbled. I’m not the focus, I’m merely the signpost, pointing people towards Jesus.

We slept comfortably, though fitfully, on the eve of our first speaking engagement in the USA.

It’s funny to me. I love my father, though have never really liked so many things about him. I didn’t like the “home school classroom” concept, and now I run a school in exactly the same way. I didn’t ever like what he looked like or spoke like, and I’m now I´m a carbon copy. I didn’t like that he was poor and wrote prayer letters – look at me today, speaking to people I´ve never before met and living in Latin America´s second poorest country! I didn’t like that he was a preacher or a missionary, and blow-me down if I’m not dancing around in his shoes, AND singing the same song (though I pray, more in tune).

Upon the morrow I bounded out of bed like a Labrador ready to play fetch. Breakfast? Ho no, not a chance – I knew I’d be the most nervous guest speaker they’d ever had, and didn’t want to add the reproduction of my breakfast to an already freakishly overloaded repertoire of speaking, song, video and audience participatory events.

The drive to Church was a speedy one. Wendy does NOT muck about when stepping behind the wheel. We arrived with plenty of time to set up, pray and completely lose it on account of nerves!

Wendy gave us the tour of their brand new building and we encountered lots of enthusiastic introductions and getting-to-know you conversations. All-in-all, we managed to relax and really felt the heartbeat of the Church (every Church, I have learnt, has it’s own particular flavour).

Our Irish friend led us in a time of heart-felt praise and worship. I really love the profound simplicity of today’s American praise and worship sessions. By-and-large the Mariah Carey BIG voices of our congregations have been confined to sing back-up and the new era of young worship leader and voice of the Church has emerged. The songs are sing-able, less entertaining, and provide an atmosphere for communion with God.

Deep in thought I approached the platform. Liz and I had decided to open with a song, I Will Exalt You, which we sing in Spanish. It’s a Hillsong worship song written by Brooke Fraser, and so many people know it.

The idea of singing a song first was to have people focus on God and to help us relax. Blunder number 1! We must have incorrectly explained the order of our program to the friendly sound fellow. The song we were now singing, At the Cross, which is vocally impossible first thing, and which in our presentation also contained a video file meant to induce weeping in the aisles, pulling out of hair, and the begging of us for them to send prayers, financing and teams, now played…

Liz and I looked at each other and rolled with it. If there’s anything we’ve learnt in being a missionary to Nicaragua, it’s that we must, must, MUST be flexible. I was cool, I was calm, I was winding the microphone cord over my fingers, hand and forearm. Oh gracious, I was transitioning to cocoon mode. In a matter of minutes nothing of me would be visible, just the drone of my worship, “my hiiiiiiiiiding place, my saaaaaaaaaafe refuuuuuuuge…”

This isn’t the first time I’ve done this. As a child on King’s Kids, performing at YWAM in Canberra, for the very first time (snore), I’d entered into this exact same zone.

I was 10 years old and my leader, Sandra Winslade, gesticulated at me to the point of having a seizure, that I needed to let go of the microphone cord. I wanted to stop, but I just couldn’t. I knew I should stop, but my paws just wouldn’t. I had learned from other kids the art of telling my testimony, and had gotten so into it that I couldn´t work out how to stop.

Sharing testimonies, I had learnt, was all about publicly discussing the horrors of your youth. My fellow Kings Kids team members (all older) went into the greatest detail about their sex crimes, gang activities, satanic involvement, drug abuse and more. As I said, I was just 10 years old, the son of a preacher-missionary. I had plenty of dirt to dig, but just couldn’t decide what to settle on.

And so we sang with all our might! We shared from the heart and I can honestly say God was with us that day. There were no nerves. The people listened. The Holy Spirit spoke.

Upon conclusion (which actually was our first song. I know how Spiritual are we? The first shall be last!!! Ha ha), Pastor Wendy, a beautiful, tall, regal, fifty-something lass and our gorgeous friend, sister and co-worker for the cause, took to the stage and addressed her congregation. “We need to support these people,” she said with authority.

Pastor Wendy went on to explain how we’d met, the time we’d already spent together and the God-connection that clearly existed between Capital on the Edge and Zimmerman Community Church.

In agreement with Pastor Wendy, was another chap from the congregation. With tears he explained to the Church body just how important providing hope for the children of our World is. He conveyed to the folks that the Lord had blessed him with bountiful provision in his lifetime, and that he would now sow back into the Kingdom, above and beyond his 10% tithe.

Our first speaking engagement saw us retrieve 20% of the finances we’d needed for the repayment of our flights to the USA for our fundraising campaign. Zimmerman Community Church also committed to contributing a substantial amount, on a monthly basis, to support the work of Capital on the Edge.

The monthly donation, behind our Australian home and sending Church, is the most any Church has committed to-date. And so it was confirmed in the physical, what we already knew in the spiritual, that Zimmerman Community Church is to be a significant part of Capital on the Edge as the years go by.

Our day with Zimmerman Community Church was emotional. We left in love. We found that although vast differences are evident between the cultures of Australia, the US and Nicaragua, that Jesus is the same and we see him in the Church – everywhere… 

POST by JED: Planes, Trains & Automobiles - Part 5

It was to be the beginning of many an introduction, though in this scenario our hosts had to have been especially curious. We'd never met, never even talked on the phone. Our communication had been confined to e-mail and internet photo stalking - Liz and I (well actually myself alone... It sounds less weird if I include Liz as she's more mature) had scoured their website and they may have looked at our Capital-on-the-Edge facebook albums,  and our blog. In any case, each was as unknown to the other. We were from different lands, working in different communities, but united in purpose that all men should know salvation through Jesus.

Wendy had offered for us to stay in her lakefront Minnesotan, home. We were honoured by this gesture, and being ex-YWAM, had no difficulties with the thought of lodging with complete strangers for the night. We snapped up the offer.

Now whether people believe it or not, in my mind I'm the funny guy. Things that race through my brain I just have to say aloud (sometimes prior to thinking and other times not). However, there'd been much self-talk and I'd decided to throw away my hilarious Mike Warnke, Pat Mesiti and Jim Carey laugh-a-minute road show persona and employ the guise of a more serious, all-knowing itinerant preacher type.

I glided spiritually towards the front door, not totally submitting to the natural law of gravity. As my hostess walked before me I stumbled over a step in the dark, tripping and then bounding into the house just ahead of Liz (who must have been thinking how absurd I was to try and race). I was still clutching my Bible when I landed, head nearly smashing into the deluxe fridge-freezer combo-machine. As per usual, Lizzie tip-toed by, proving just how easy it is to place one foot carefully in front of the other.

 And there they were, sitting before me, in all their lovely Americaness; wide grins, warm eyes, welcoming hearts. I was chuffed to be amongst them. Every chap sat next to his spouse and there wasn’t a seat to spare in this creatively decorated country cottage.

We had arrived in Nica style an hour and a half late, not really knowing where we were going (or coming from). Because of the time pressures we hadn’t nourished ourselves with a sufficient lunch prior to our departure from Dom’s wedding – hence we’d stopped on the freeway for a tantalizing taste of cardboard flavoured food. Yum… However, despite the taste and nutritional factors (for that matter), in terms of our desire for additional food, we were now entirely satisfied.

These beaut folk had put on quite a spread. It was in fact a potluck meal and so the diversity of food options were amazing. We each took a plate and enjoyed fare from all over the World. I was now liking these people all-the-more.

We chatted for a while and enjoyed learning all about our new found family. Because truly, that is what the people of Zimmerman Community Church are – they’re our heart and spirit – our home. They are ordinary people who have come together and achieved extraordinary things, because they have stayed the course and sought the face of God.

I learnt that evening of many horrific obstacles this Church has faced. I also was blessed to find unity and devotion cemented into the very foundations of them. The leaders of the Church were very different from one another, in terms of their sexes (lady senior pastor), age (youth pastor in his 20s), occupations (white and blue collar unite), and so-forth. Yet, it was the number one Christian ingredient that completely won me over, love.

We chatted and laughed, talked seriously, prayed, worshipped, ate and sat in complete silence. The night air held anticipation and the hours passed quickly by. Before we knew it we were hugging, kissing, talking of tomorrow and saying our toodle-loohs.

Liz and I bade our farewells and walked pastorally into our designated sleeping chambers. I brushed my speaker’s teeth, washed my presenter’s face, and went to lay out my preacher’s clothing. My preacher’s clothing… MY PREACHER’S CLOTHING? Holy SUIT!!! I had left my suit in my other flip-floppin’ Minnesotan lake front cabin (with Jacuzzi and room for a pony)! What would I do? What would I say? It was at this point I considered trading my profession as a humble missionary from Nicaragua for the role of Holy Ghost Miracles Man.

There were no options available. I had to confront the moment head-on. I slunk sheepishly back into the lounge room and tapped my pastoral friend, Wendy, who was now reading her Bible (darn, I thought to myself – I should have brought my Bible!), on the shoulder and explained my predicament. Wendy, in complete grace, let out whimsical laughter.

“Jed!” she said, “you’re looking at a woman who just a few years ago wouldn’t let her daughters go to Church in jeans. I now preach in jeans! The freedom we have in Jesus, Jed, it’s a mighty thing.” Wow, I thought, humbled. I’m not the focus, I’m merely the signpost, pointing people towards Jesus.

We slept comfortably, though fitfully, on the eve of our first speaking engagement in the USA.

It’s funny to me. I love my father, though have never really liked so many things about him. I didn’t like the “home school classroom” concept, and now I run a school in exactly the same way. I didn’t ever like what he looked like or spoke like, and I’m now I´m a carbon copy. I didn’t like that he was poor and wrote prayer letters – look at me today, speaking to people I´ve never before met and living in Latin America´s second poorest country! I didn’t like that he was a preacher or a missionary, and blow-me down if I’m not dancing around in his shoes, AND singing the same song (though I pray, more in tune).

Upon the morrow I bounded out of bed like a Labrador ready to play fetch. Breakfast? Ho no, not a chance – I knew I’d be the most nervous guest speaker they’d ever had, and didn’t want to add the reproduction of my breakfast to an already freakishly overloaded repertoire of speaking, song, video and audience participatory events.

The drive to Church was a speedy one. Wendy does NOT muck about when stepping behind the wheel. We arrived with plenty of time to set up, pray and completely lose it on account of nerves!

Wendy gave us the tour of their brand new building and we encountered lots of enthusiastic introductions and getting-to-know you conversations. All-in-all, we managed to relax and really felt the heartbeat of the Church (every Church, I have learnt, has it’s own particular flavour).

Our Irish friend led us in a time of heart-felt praise and worship. I really love the profound simplicity of today’s American praise and worship sessions. By-and-large the Mariah Carey BIG voices of our congregations have been confined to sing back-up and the new era of young worship leader and voice of the Church has emerged. The songs are sing-able, less entertaining, and provide an atmosphere for communion with God.

Deep in thought I approached the platform. Liz and I had decided to open with a song, I Will Exalt You, which we sing in Spanish. It’s a Hillsong worship song written by Brooke Fraser, and so many people know it.

The idea of singing a song first was to have people focus on God and to help us relax. Blunder number 1! We must have incorrectly explained the order of our program to the friendly sound fellow. The song we were now singing, At the Cross, which is vocally impossible first thing, and which in our presentation also contained a video file meant to induce weeping in the aisles, pulling out of hair, and the begging of us for them to send prayers, financing and teams, now played…

Liz and I looked at each other and rolled with it. If there’s anything we’ve learnt in being a missionary to Nicaragua, it’s that we must, must, MUST be flexible. I was cool, I was calm, I was winding the microphone cord over my fingers, hand and forearm. Oh gracious, I was transitioning to cocoon mode. In a matter of minutes nothing of me would be visible, just the drone of my worship, “my hiiiiiiiiiding place, my saaaaaaaaaafe refuuuuuuuge…”

This isn’t the first time I’ve done this. As a child on King’s Kids, performing at YWAM in Canberra, for the very first time (snore), I’d entered into this exact same zone.

I was 10 years old and my leader, Sandra Winslade, gesticulated at me to the point of having a seizure, that I needed to let go of the microphone cord. I wanted to stop, but I just couldn’t. I knew I should stop, but my paws just wouldn’t. I had learned from other kids the art of telling my testimony, and had gotten so into it that I couldn´t work out how to stop.

Sharing testimonies, I had learnt, was all about publicly discussing the horrors of your youth. My fellow Kings Kids team members (all older) went into the greatest detail about their sex crimes, gang activities, satanic involvement, drug abuse and more. As I said, I was just 10 years old, the son of a preacher-missionary. I had plenty of dirt to dig, but just couldn’t decide what to settle on.

And so we sang with all our might! We shared from the heart and I can honestly say God was with us that day. There were no nerves. The people listened. The Holy Spirit spoke.

Upon conclusion (which actually was our first song. I know how Spiritual are we? The first shall be last!!! Ha ha), Pastor Wendy, a beautiful, tall, regal, fifty-something lass and our gorgeous friend, sister and co-worker for the cause, took to the stage and addressed her congregation. “We need to support these people,” she said with authority.

Pastor Wendy went on to explain how we’d met, the time we’d already spent together and the God-connection that clearly existed between Capital on the Edge and Zimmerman Community Church.

In agreement with Pastor Wendy, was another chap from the congregation. With tears he explained to the Church body just how important providing hope for the children of our World is. He conveyed to the folks that the Lord had blessed him with bountiful provision in his lifetime, and that he would now sow back into the Kingdom, above and beyond his 10% tithe.

Our first speaking engagement saw us retrieve 20% of the finances we’d needed for the repayment of our flights to the USA for our fundraising campaign. Zimmerman Community Church also committed to contributing a substantial amount, on a monthly basis, to support the work of Capital on the Edge.

The monthly donation, behind our Australian home and sending Church, is the most any Church has committed to-date. And so it was confirmed in the physical, what we already knew in the spiritual, that Zimmerman Community Church is to be a significant part of Capital on the Edge as the years go by.

Our day with Zimmerman Community Church was emotional. We left in love. We found that although vast differences are evident between the cultures of Australia, the US and Nicaragua, that Jesus is the same and we see him in the Church – everywhere…