In 1998, Hurricane Mitch ravaged Nicaragua. Chinandega saw tragedy like it hadn't in over a century. Rain fell as if the sky had been holding it in for decades, just waiting for one giant release. Casita, a volcano just outside of the city, had been extinct for ages and had thus formed a beautiful crater lake at top. However, with the heaving rain, the capacity it could hold reached its maximum and the water came overflowing out the top, taking the mud, the trees, and the people with it, leaving no mercy for those in it's mighty path.

3,o00 people lost their lives because of that rain, and thousands more lost their hope and their homes. The ever trust-worthy government of Nicaragua sent forth their empty promise to rebuild what had been destroyed, and displaced the homeless to land located next to the Chinandega city dump. The Red Cross and a few organizations brought in tarps and other supplies to make temporary houses, called "chompas", to give the people a shelter while they were waiting to return to their homes.

These "temporary" houses soon became permanent, as the waiting became endless and the glimmer of hope of returning home diminished with each day. The people learned to live off the dump, scavenging for food and metal scraps they could sell in town for enough to survive. Those displaced forgot how to live, and learned only how to survive. Dreams disappeared, as it seemed there was no longer anything to dream about.

Here is where we come in. Armed with faith and truth and a few Spanish speakers, Amigos went into the dump, beckoning those who still clung to the sliver of hope to rejoin life, to rejoin joy. Land had been bought, and materials were ready to build up a community- their hope had arrived.

But the people were wary, and with adaquete reason. Why should they trust these strangers; what makes us any different from the others who claim to make changes that never came to be?

Yet some came, and mustering up their last bit of strength that hadn't been squelched by their circumstances, not allowing themselves to be conquered by misery and fear. Others stayed, content in their complacency, refusing to believe that they were created for something greater. Moving meant changing, and changing meant courage, and tenacity, and more so, work. Still others came, but returned to the dump, after seeing that in order to live again, to really live, would mean matters of the heart. So they took residence again where they were not meant to be, amongst the garbage and the filth and the hopelessness.

This story, however, is not about those that stayed. I could spin whimsy forever, comparing the two groups that stayed in El Limonal to our own hearts and sin situations- but that shall be for another day. Today I want to talk about the people who knew they were meant for greater, the group that took the grand adventure to move into Villa Catalina.

Ever, who was very small when he first came into my friendship, was a resident of the dump with his 2 sisters and older brother. He was bound to a life of garbage, living shoeless and shirtless, scavenging through piles of trash to gather in order to help feed his family. His parents refused to sell themselves or their children to such a circumstance, and they were among the first to pack up their things for hope. There is a picture of Ever we used to have up on our website, his dirty face and half naked body standing in front of a pile of trash, filthy river in the back ground, sky black from garbage fires. If a photo can break your heart, this is the one.

This Saturday, he and a few of my Villa Catalina favorites (Julio, Enrique, David, Hector, and Leandro) all went to Poneloya, my favorite beach. We spent most of the morning running in and out of the ocean, throwing a football on the shore, and making drip castles that no one will ever see the likes of again. Our appetites called, and the boys and I sat on the 2nd floor of a little beach side restaurant, eating cheeseburgers and drinking bottled cokes. Ever's grin was wide, his chest still heaving from general beach exhaustion as he wiped ketchup off his face and looked out on the daunting waves. "I am going to have a boat one day, Kelly," he began. "Do you want me to take you for a ride on my boat? We can come here alot. I will buy a house for all my friends after I go to University, and we'll play on the beach all the time. How do you like that idea?"

And now, I have a new picture of Ever.