eneyda

Yesterday was a tough day. One of my colleagues/friends came back from the States this week and spent the evening with me, which made me think about all of you, and how much I miss you. I worked hard all afternoon on an invitation to a function for Christians in the arts and media that we are trying to engage here in Nicaragua, and later sat stone-faced and emotionally spent on the bus on the way home, slowly losing interest in all possible activity tonight. I noticed two text messages on my phone, but ignored them. When I got off the bus, I wandered into one of the tiendas on my block to check fan prices and finally made it home, passing my new friend Eneyda with the barest of greetings. Later she came to invite me to a gathering at her house, but I told her I was tired.

At home, I realized I had no motivation to eat so instead I cleaned. I swept the patio, mopped up the rain water, and shined the kitchen floor. Sweaty and out of energy even for manual labor, I turned my attention to my intended blog post. An hour later Eneyda called to see if I was still tired. I must have sounded up for company, because the next thing I knew she was standing at my front gate with her 4 month old Jasmin saying “Buenas”. Eneyda is a 24 year old single mom with 2 young daughters. She is a beautiful Nicaraguan muchacha with a tough life--the father of her kids lives in the States, and just yesterday she came to me in tears over an email he had written to her. In addition, she is not close to her parents, and many of her church friends live on the other side of town.

After some small talk, she asked me about my day. “Other than work,” she asked. Little did I know that this simple question was going to produce an avalanche. I didn't have any energy left to put up a front. I told Eneyda how my friend has just come back from a trip to the States and that I was thinking about home and everyone I missed, and how much I just hope for a single letter or email every week from someone from home. “I am sure someone will write to you soon,” she said. I shook my head, my eyes filling with tears. “I know they have busy lives there...it's hard to remember someone far away.” Eneyda and I sat in silence for a few minutes until I had sort of gathered myself back together.

Then she asked, “Did you receive the messages I left you?” I stared at her. “No,” I answered. She looked surprised. “What did they say?” “Lots of things, but the main one was inviting you to dinner with me tonight.” Suddenly I felt even worse. My best friend on my street had invited me to dinner and I had missed the opportunity. “So are you going to read my messages?” she asked. I walked inside to get my phone off the table. Here, dear friends, is what sweet Eneyda wrote to me:

“Good morning, my friend. I invite you to dinner with me tonight to have pasta—si or no? Take care much-have a good afternoon.” (That last part she had written in English)

Not only was she inviting me to dinner, but she was inviting me to have pasta—something we had eaten together at my house last week and that I knew she loved to cook. And the next one read:

“You know, Pamela, that I feel you are my best friend. You have much care and are a special friend. Forgive me for disturbing you with this message while you are working.”

I wanted to cry even more. I knew she was hurt that I didn't respond to her messages—and disappointed that her well intentioned plan (which included homemade frescos!) did not work out because her crazy gringa friend had a bad day.

What a mess. While I was busy feeling sorry for myself, someone was reaching out to me. I had shoved a blessing away without even realizing it. But, maybe now we're over a hump in our friendship. Yesterday I saw the tears in her eyes. Tonight she saw the tears in mine.