Love Your Little Neighbor
On the final evening of every short-term mission trip we have a “debriefing” meeting. It’s a chance for everyone on the team to think back on their experiences from the week — to share, reflect, and prepare for re-entry into American culture.
We encourage each team member to think of one story — one person or event or cultural difference — and use it in response to the question, “So how was your trip?” when returning home. It’s a great alternative to the completely generic and utterly uninformative response, “It was great!” but without boring the questioner to death with the dreaded, “Well, first we got on the plane…”
Telling one short, compelling, emotional story from the mission trip is a great way encapsulate an experience that’s, well, impossible to encapsulate!
I’m going to share my “one moment” with you.
On the last day medical clinic day in Rivas an elderly woman came through triage where I was stationed as a translator. She was 85 years old and barely over five feet tall. A dear, sweet, little lady.
I was already helping another patient, so I just glanced over and observed the woman as she made her way to the other triage table beside me. She walked slowly but deliberately to the other translator, Arnie, reaching her arms up to hug his neck.
“Buenos dias,” she said smiling.
Arnie replied with his booming, “Buenos dias!” as he leaned down to receive the hug.
Then the woman walked over to the nurse who would be helping her, Joy, and hugged her. Joy, who had been practicing Spanish phrases all week, said, “Dios te bendiga” (”God bless you”).
The woman responded, “Muy bien. Y Usted?” (”I’m very well. And you?”)
Obviously her hearing wasn’t what it used to be. But I don’t think Joy understood her anyway!
Arnie asked the woman how she was feeling and why she wanted to see the doctor that day. The woman either didn’t understand Arnie’s Spanish or simply couldn’t hear him. A middle-aged woman standing nearby came to her aid, asking Arnie to repeat the question.
Arnie asked, “Ella es su abuela?” (”She’s your grandmother?”)
The other woman replied, “No, ella es mi vecinita.”
Arnie didn’t understand the word “vecinita” so he turned to me for help. “She’s her neighbor. ‘Vecinita’ literally means ‘little neighbor,’” I said.
Her little neighbor.
I don’t know why, but that touched me so much. The middle-aged woman probably sacrificed two to three hours of her day to help — and the elderly woman wasn’t her grandmother or relative — just her “little neighbor.”
As I thought about that experience during the debriefing meeting I started to tear up. I don’t know if it was the sweet smile of the little old lady or the sacrifice of the middle-aged woman, but that’s the one moment I’ll remember from the week of ministry in Rivas.
I remember that moment and compare it to the words of Jesus: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” I don’t always do that very well. It seems like Americans, in general, struggle with that command more than Nicaraguans. But I’m going to remember that sweet little Nicaraguan woman and her devoted friend. And I’m going to do my best to “love my little neighbor” whenever possible.
Bryan said:
Nice!
Nathan said:
Bryan, you’re really good at loving your little neighbor (or little brother). Has Kari still been whipping you in Frisbee golf?