Welcome to the Van Zoest family blog: Nica Update: Where is Home?

Nica Update: Where is Home?

Dear Family and Friends,

"Where are you from?" On many different occasions, I have watched our kids' faces as someone asks them this question. There is usually a long pause and then they will share about why this is a difficult question to answer. Their hearts are connected to two different countries and in some sense none of us feels completely at "home" in either country. In Nicaragua, our American culture and way of thinking and processing life is very different from our Nicaraguan friends/classmates. Our American friends, people we have invested in and shared our hearts with, regularly leave to return to the U.S. or move on to another mission field. We miss experiencing the freshness of spring and the crispness of fall and a white Christmas. Holidays are still hard because we miss sitting around a table with our extended family; many of the holiday traditions that "worked" in the U.S. do not work in Nicaragua. The Latin culture is very loud and festive. We appreciate the joyfulness of Nicaraguan culture, yet there are also times when we long for quiet.

When we arrive in the U.S., we often feel overwhelmed by the numbers of choices we are offered. Rebekah and I once stood in the cookie aisle at Walmart counting all of the different kinds of Oreo cookies that are now available. We couldn't believe it! Another time, I started crying when I got to the cashier at Wendy's because I was so overwhelmed by the number of choices on the menu. All I could say was "I am from another country!" and went to the back of the line to try again. My "Latin" impulse is now to hug people often and sometimes give a little peck on the cheek – not sure that my kids or Dan have trouble with this one, but I notice (as do others) how my boundaries related to "personal space" have changed. In conversations with others, we realize how much we have missed of our friend's and family's lives – how much they have changed/how much we have changed. We realize that the way that we now see the world is different than the way those closest to us see the world.

The rest of this update will feature an essay that was written by Will for his on-line English class this past year. His assignment was to write about his favorite place. Will chose to write about my parent's acreage and entitled his essay "home". I am thankful that our kids had the opportunity to spend part of their childhood in Iowa, close to my parents and grandparents – both of whom have been intentional about spending time with them and pouring into their lives. I am thankful too for the opportunity – while we have lived in Nicaragua - to spend most of our summers staying with my parents. I am thankful for supporters who understand that connecting with our families and churches during the summers is one way that we maintain our health as a family. I am thankful for a place where our kids can continue to experience some idea of what "home" is.

Will's Essay

Home

"Your home is where your heart is." The unknown author of this quote defined "home" with this simple little sentence. It sums up the joys of a rowdy childhood and the sorrows of a dead pet or a bruised knee, all into one word: Home. My heart's home is at my grandparents' farm, with the tall grass, old barns, and rusty tractors. I cherish wandering the quaint apple orchard looking for tart, juicy apples to pick and enjoy at the top of one of many trees. I admire this wonderful place as a start and finish too many incredible journeys. My grandparent's farm is one of the few places where I feel like I am at "home."

I stand with my feet in soft green grass, looking out at my grandparent's vast farm. As I feel the sun on my face, I hear the Morning Dove's sweet coo. I glance to the left and right, noticing all the vivid colors and smells. There is the smell of warm sweet corn and tart raspberry pie in the air wafting through an open window of the kitchen. Glimpsing an old run down van putting down a dirt lane, I notice it is heading straight for me. Running toward it, I trip and land face first in the sweet smelling grass. As I am laying there, a feeling of gratefulness for this place I love so much comes over me. I hate to leave this place I feel so comfortable and cozy in, but it is only a temporary stay.

Standing in a shed, across from the house in which I stay, I gaze at all this hard work. I am amazed at this shining machinery and try to comprehend all the uses for these oil stinking tools. Wandering around the immense room and surveying the walls with interest, I observe all the trinkets hanging on the wall, and the memories to go with them. As my eyes drift around the room, I spot a quad, in all its glory. I remember a time when I was little--maybe like 5 or 6--riding on the lid of a hog feeder, attached to the quad by a rope, in the middle of winter. One time I flipped off the makeshift sled and landed in a snow bank, laughing. A smile creeps its way up my face at the thought, and I wish for old times while also thanking God for the chance to have such great memories.

The smell of pine reaches my nose as I stand just behind the main building on my grandpa and grandma's farm surveying the mini forest planted there. I notice a couple discarded cans rusting away next to a rundown fence and these sights remind me of the many hours I have spent at my grandpa's side shooting tin cans off a bench. The satisfaction of hearing the "pang" of a bullet hitting the can paired with the "klunk" of tin hitting dirt is something I still savor to this day. Just then, I hear a voice calling in the distance, reminding me it is time for tea. I start running toward the promise of fresh baked treats and time with family. A warm refreshing gust meets my skin as I breeze through the doorway. The greetings of my family and smells of corn and apple sauce provide a warm welcome.

I hold this place dearly to my heart, so consequently having to leave at the end of each summer leaves me glum. While I am there I feel accepted, cared for and, most of all, loved. Even just seeing it in the distance is enough to make me sigh deeply out of the bliss caused by recalling many of my extensive stash of memories. I look forward to our day long trip from Nicaragua to my grandparent's farm, all while anticipating the warm embrace of my grandparents. I love you grandma, I love you grandpa.

Thank you once again for your prayers, your love, and your support of our family. When we are with you, we do feel a sense of "home" because we feel very well loved. This summer, Dan and I have taken turns speaking at churches while the other person stays with Daniel. Each time I have spoken in front of a church, I find myself fighting tears as I have grown to love each supporting church and those who individually walk with us as we have journeyed together these past almost-seven years. Never in my life have I felt so deeply connected to so many people. So please once again know that we are very thankful for you and for how God loves us through you.

Peace to you,

Lisa (Dan, Rebekah, Will, and Daniel) Van Zoest

Dan and I often marvel at and thank God for how both Dan and my families enjoy being together and are intentional about relationships with one another. We are all so thankful for Dan's family and for how every two years they host us at a cottage on Lake MI for a week. Family members from Michigan, Ohio, California, and Nicaragua gather for a fun-filled week which involves activities like golfing, dune buggy rides, and a ping pong tournament.

My Dad and Will have been shooting a gun together since Will was 5 years old. This summer, my Dad helped Will work on his requirements for two Boy Scout badges – rifle shooting and shot gun shooting.

Those who know me well know that there is not a domestic bone in my body. I learned to cook because Dan and I had to eat! Rebekah, on the other hand, loves everything domestic from cooking to sewing to decorating, etc. I know that she picked up these interests from family members who do enjoy these activities as well as from friends in Nicaragua who have mentored her. Pictured above is a cherry pie Rebekah and Will learned how to make – they picked the cherries off my parents' cherry tree and then made a pie with Grandma!

My Dad likes to tease our kids and finds ways to play with them even now when he is in his 70's. This summer, he invented the "armchair pillow fight" which involves him sitting in his recliner and throwing pillows at Daniel and Daniel throwing pillows at him. So, almost every day this past summer, Daniel initiated a pillow fight with someone – usually Grandpa.

My Mom has always been great at entering the world of our kids by engaging with them in their interests. So, the other day Daniel went down a twisty tube slide and wanted my Mom to do it too. And she did. I don't think she will ever do THAT again!