On Friday, July 30 seven people from four states became one team with two foci: 1. Travel to La Joya, Nicaragua on a MOST Ministries Water Outreach. 2. Spread the news of Jesus Christ and make disciples in a nation to which many of us have never been.

The primary goal of this mission trip is to install renewable Bio-Sand Water Filters in the homes of locals in La Joya, Nicaragua. The filters - made of plastic, metal, stone and sand - are designed to remove 85-99% of fecal coliforms, 100% of protozoa and helminthes, 50-90% of organic and inorganic toxicants, and all suspended sediments from the local drinking water. What's better yet is that the filters can be renewed using only sand and gravel.

The water in this particular area of La Joya is collected from the rain and runoff and stored in a reservoir at the bottom of a mountain. Each day a water delivery service carts barrels up the mountainside to replenish the in-house water supplies of those who can afford it. Those who cannot send their children down the mountain to retrieve the essential fluid.

As the town water is largely drawn from one source, the water in each home is contaminated by animal waste and other, even less-appealing forms of pollution. Additionally, family water supplies are often stored in large, rusty, metal barrels with makeshift lids. A typical drink is taken by removing the lid, dipping a container into the water, sipping from the container, and pouring the rest back into the barrel.

The need for a cleaner means of drinking water exists. Diarrhoeal disease is responsible for a not-insignificant amount of infant mortality in Nicaragua, and people in the area regularly suffer from water-borne illnesses. The solution exists. The Bio-Sand filter removes over 98.5% of bacteria and 100% of parasites. It also eliminates the need to dip into the supply with a spout. The team exists. Two new members have been added since our first meeting, making a team of nine from Illinois, Michigan, Missouri, and Texas.

Although we are from different geographic regions, different religious and personal backgrounds, different age ranges, and different walks of life, we are bound together through membership in the Body of Christ. Therein lies the beauty of a mission trip: a group of imperfect people - who may not have ever met one another - under the duress of an extraordinary set of circumstances, motivated by the Great Commission can become like a family. When God leads, unlikely friendships are born, lives are changed, and the Body of Christ expands. We pray (and ask that you do, too) for God to use this team in whatever way He will; that we would be His ambassadors, and He our gracious guide.

David, Thanks for the messages and the information about the area we will be serving. We ARE getting ready and looking forward to meeting all of the team members.

Can't wait to get in the field ------it has been almost a year since I went through the training and evaluation of the Bio Sand system. I look forward to getting to the field and uusing water as a means of bringing Christ into the hearts and lives of the people in Nicaragua! BTW the system does work ---the state of Michigan water quality lab told me to drink the water I was testing in my garage for a number of months and the waterI tested was as nasty as anything we will encounter in Nicaragua

During devotions this morning in the MOST Ministries office, Carly (the Team Leader) and I both announced that we had poison ivy...a disconcerting revelation indeed. Thankfully, Debby (the Team Administrator) and I had previously had a conversation in my office about how I was feeling with regard to the trip.

After admitting that I was somewhat nervous, she brought to my attention a simple fact that I am often too wrapped up in my daily goings-on to think about: God has known what will happen on this trip since before the world was formed. Before there were countries with people in them who need help, before there were missionaries and planes and passport pouches, before a prehistoric North-American plant adapted to being eaten by developing a horrible, poisonous sap, God had a plan for this mission trip. And that is all that matters.

So I ask that you pray for us, for the team, for Roberto and the people in La Joya, Nicaragua. Likewise I ask for prayers for our enemy - poison ivy - which persecutes us. (Oh, and mosquitoes...they persecute us, too.)

Today we began our mission trip. Carly, Kevin and I left the relative comfort of Detroit Metro at noon. We three waited at our gate in Atlanta for the others to arrive. They trickled in with Les -the fourth Michigan team member - being the last to arrive (he booked his flight using frequent flyer miles and somehow was "bumped up" to first class).

We had our first team face-to-face meeting there at gate E15. After introductions, Carly informed the group of everything that would happen between that time and our arrival at the Best Western in Managua (although she neglected to mention how salty the Chinese food in the food court would be).

The flight to Managua was unlike any other I have been on. As the rest of the team passed Les in first class - remembering not to make eye-contact - and found our own seats, I noticed that each seat had its own in-headrest television screen with free TV! As I watched an episode of "The Office," I noticed the sun setting quite rapidly outside my window. Yet it was before six o'clock. I snapped a picture of the phenomenon only to later discover that the sun simply sets at that time of day during this time of year on the far eastern edge of the Mountain Time zone.

As we landed in Managua at 7:20 (in the pitch-blackness), the pilot - seemingly previously unaware of the shortness of the runway - put the reverse thrusters into warp speed. A Sky magazine which had been on the floor under someone's seat scooted past us down the center aisle, as if being carried off by an ant colony intent on reading about Robert DeNiro's love affair with New York City.

Disembarking took little time. The flight was undersold (or at least under-attended) and many of us had enjoyed our own row of seats (and headrest TVs) on the way. Immigration and customs were a breeze and Steve - our luggage coordinator - informed us that all of our bags had arrived! We promptly bid them farewell again and loaded them into a flatbed truck which I climbed into for a ride to the Best Western in Managua. The rest of the group followed in a van.

Minutes later in the hotel lobby, we reclaimed our things, received our room keys and proceeded to find our "habitaciones." The hotel is beautiful! Half open-air, one quarter conditioned air and one quarter rainforest, bottled water in the rooms and no toilet paper down the drain. It is difficult to describe how cool this hotel looks in fewer than 750 characters. We made plans to meet in the hotel restaurant in fifteen minutes for our first team meeting on the field.

Carly outlined the rules for not getting sick: don't brush with/drink the hotel water, no ice either, don't eat street foods, tend to cuts and scratches even if you typically wouldn't, don't go anywhere alone, always wear pants, and more. We talked about Roberto and the people of La Joya, about the project logistics and our next housing site. Steve - who coordinates more than luggage - got us to sign up for devotions for the week.

We talked about playing with the children of La Joya before starting work for the day. Dan and Kathy brought a suitcase full of toys - soccer balls, Frisbees, yo-yos, and paddle-balls. They will be popular with the Nicaraguan youth indeed. Most importantly, we talked about our conduct, and conveying the message God wants us to convey; about not perpetuating the stereotype of the obnoxious American tourist, and about trying to show Jesus through our actions, body language, clothing, and speech.

Carly closed the meeting with a moving devotion called "A Teenager's View of Heaven" which I recommend to those of you who haven't read it. It is based on an essay by Brian Moore and I suspect that if you Google search his name and the title of the devotion you should be able to come across it. It prompted us to examine ourselves and to ask, "How many people have I shared the Gospel with?" I hope that by the end of the trip we can all say, "As many as I could, this week." We closed the meeting in prayer and returned to our rooms for the night.

Back in the room Les showed me a photo he had taken of his in-flight dinner. I showed him the crumpled peanut pack wrapper which was still wadded up in my pocket. Les went to brush his teeth only to find that a rather large cockroach was already using his toothbrush. Luckily, nobody had told him not to brush with the hotel water and he died shortly thereafter. Now the time has come to say goodnight. My soft typing is sure to be keeping my roommate awake. Pray for us. We miss you.

The hotel wi-fi stopped working last night, but I was able to find the devotion this morning. Here's the link (I'm not sure if you'll be able to click on it or if copying and pasting will have to suffice): http://www.workingonlivingfaith.com/2007/11/teenagers-view-of-heaven.html

Les and I awoke, readied ourselves and headed to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. When we arrived Steve was already seated at a table, sipping un café while the Best Western staff buzzed about the room opening doors and briskly carrying trays about. Kevin soon joined us followed by Sandra, Dan, Kathy, and Carly. Eight seems the perfect number for a mission trip; two tables-full. Breakfast was served buffet-style and included various breads, croissants, sweet rolls, what looked (and tasted) like albino pineapple, sliced mango and watermelon, rice-n-beans, eggs, ham, cheese, fried plantains, bacon, chorizo sausages, and an omelet bar.

As the hotel staff wheeled me out of the restaurant, I couldn't help but wonder about the tingling sensation I was feeling in my left arm. After Kathy's devotion about Joni Eareckson and her triumphs of faith despite being a quadriplegic, it was time to pack, get in a quick and painful shave and meet in the lobby at 8:00. José, our driver from Managua to Chinendega (and cousin of Roberto, our host) arrived and we piled into his spacious, silver van.

Being driven in Nicaragua is like being on a rollercoaster in the eye of a hurricane. You know that you should be afraid, but there is so much happening around you that you simply don't care. Outside, whole families on mopeds passed within inches of the van. Street vendors stood between lanes of rushing traffic holding up bags of water or ten-pound iguanas for sale. Reverse rickshaws, three-wheeled taxis and truck-axle carts pulled by knobby-kneed horses. Cars of all shapes and sizes and from all decades (some even old enough to call "automobiles") of American manufacturing populated the streets around us. José, intimately aware of the dimensions of his van, navigated with near-disconcerting ease.

There are no traffic lights in Nicaragua. As far as I can tell, everyone slows as they draw near to an intersection and whoever gets there first is allowed to stop slowing down and proceed. Whoever gets there second is not. The drivers aren't in competition with one another as in the States. It's not a race. It's as if they all cooperate to try and not die. As we drove, Sandra - our cultural research coordinator - began to tell us about the area around us, about the Pan-American Highway on which we traveled, about Lake Managua and fresh-water sharks, and about the volcano looming in the distance.

One-story homes of peach, periwinkle, marigold, and mint colors peppered the roadside enveloped in squat, lush trees, their roofs made of clay shingles, corrugated tin or thatched grasses or palm leaves. We passed a billboard for Flor de Caña, which Carly told us is a popular, amber-colored rum produced in Nicaragua. She was telling us about the local Tommy Hilfiger factory when I glanced out the window to see a man cleaning under his fingernails with the blade of a machete.

After checking into the Hotel Cosiguina in Chinandega, José took us to RostiPollo, a prominent restaurant chain for lunch, and to meet Roberto. As we waited for Roberto, José spoke and I tried to translate. He told us about his family - his wife and three sons (12, five and three). He told us about Hurricane Mitch in 1998 and how his oldest son was one week old when the hurricane struck. He talked about the communities on the volcano which were destroyed ("muerto" was the word that he used). He told me that all of the bridges in the country were demolished and that the repair effort required weeks of 24/7 labor.

We were discussing the cost of horse-ownership, the frequency of bicycle-car collisions and the proximity of the local hospitals when Roberto arrived and introduced himself. Roberto lived in San Francisco from age two to 17, and therefore is fluent in English. He had been checking on the sand we were trying to import from Matagalpa. He informed us that it was the same type of riverbed sand that they had available in Chinandega which was disconcerting because the previous water team didn't have much success with that particular sand type. Nonetheless, we are confident that God will provide.

Once back at the hotel, Les gave a presentation on the Bio-Sand filtration system which we'll be using. He told us how he assembled one in his garage, took water from the Detroit River and from pasture-adjacent stretches of the Raisin River and filtered it. He drove the water to Lansing where they tested it and told him, "Drink it." He did. Les explained how the filters we are building operate under the same principles as many American water treatment facilities.

David: Sure glad you're all wearing pants(from Carly's rules, posted 09-04-10). It's a better witness than the alternative! Seriously, God bless all to which you set your hands. There are a host of people holding you all up in prayer!

As the second ever MOST Ministries water team, we are still at the beginning of the pilot year for the project. The end goal is to enable Nicaraguans in La Joya to teach one another how to assemble these filters. The community of 500 families selected roughly one-third of their households to receive these filters. Over the next two years, MOST Ministries plans to assemble filters in these houses and demonstrate an improvement in the health of the families who received these filters, as well as equip them to teach the rest of the community how to make them.

Before dinner, Roberto took us on a field trip into his home neighborhood of Santa Patricia where he lives with his mother, sister and her children. The community began as a refugee camp for survivors of Hurricane Mitch. 700 families live like sardines in one-room houses in the small suburb of Chinandega. Roberto took us to his home church to meet the pastor and deaconess. As we arrived, a small boy in white underwear stained the same color as the street stood in the doorway. A group of older boys played a game of stickball on an adjacent street with a dowel rod and the guts of a baseball.

The people of Santa Patricia were very friendly. Several of them asked if we were working there. It was difficult for us to have to say "no." The living conditions in Chinandega are such that we want to help everyone. Although we aren't working there, the visit to Santa Patricia helped put a face and set of circumstances on the project and people that we did come to serve.

Wow, what a great blog! Your blog is the best mission blog we've ever read. It is detailed, poignant and humorous. It makes us feel like we are right there with the team. We are certainly with you in spirit and holding you up in prayer. We did want to know what the ants found out about Robert DeNiro just prior to the plane stopping at the last 6 inches of the runway. Thanks for the info on a teenager's view of heaven. Love M&D

After dinner we began our team meeting for the night. Carly passed around a birthday card for our host Roberto who turns 28 tomorrow. We made a team covenant - an exercise in which we wrote down the things we wanted to be as a team (Spirit-led, servants, cooperative, prayerful) in the circle and the things we don't want to be outside (complaining, critical, know-it-alls). We all agreed to exemplify the things inside the circle as best we could and everyone signed the sheet. Sandra provided us with some information about the city of Chinandega. An excerpt from her research: "Did we mention that it's hot in Chinandega? It's so hot in Chinandega, expect to break a sweat in the shower. This is what it feels like to be a rotisserie chicken."

Sunday breakfast: rice-n-beans, papaya, watermelon, bananas, plantains, juice and one over-medium egg. We talked about sifting the sand after breakfast. As our sand is riverbed sand - the second least desirable type (next to beach sand) - it contains lots of fine sediment as well as organic materials. The sediment is undesirable because too-fine particles inhibit the flow of water through the filter and cause it to work improperly. Organic material is undesirable because it provides food for the bacteria which would otherwise die in the dark filter.

As we still don't know how to treat the sand to establish the desired flow rate (of one liter of water per two minutes) we decide on a game plan for tomorrow - our first project day. We will use three different categories of the riverbed sand to determine which works best. First we will use the sand in the filter as-is. Then we will empty the filter and fill it again with sand that has been sifted and decanted (stirred in water, the coarse sand settles and the sediment is poured out) once. Finally we will try to use sand that has been sifted, bleached, the bleach decanted, and then decanted again. We are unsure as to how greatly each decanting will increase the average size of the sand particles in the filter, and therefore the flow rate.

After the discussion, we were musing on the high quality of the showers in the hotel. Kathy regaled us with a story about a friend of hers who was on a mission trip in India who had to use a shower so small that she couldn't bend over at all. One day she wanted to shave her legs, but was having trouble contorting her body in a fashion that allowed her to use a razor on her legs. Finally, she decided to rest her heel on the sink outside and shave over the bathroom floor. She was not halfway done with the first stroke of the razor when the sink broke from the wall sending a fountain of water careening off the wall opposite the sink. Suddenly our sand dilemma seemed like it wasn't the worst that could have happened.

Roberto arrived to pick us up at 9:30. As he approached, we sang "Happy Birthday" which I drew to a close with my hartiest baritone "Y MUCHAS MÁS." We gave him our card along with a Detroit t-shirt and a motorcycle magazine (Roberto loves motorcycles). Now it was time to drive to La Joya for the first time and see the community he had traveled so far to be with.

Just 100 yards off the Pan-American Highway, the two-track road to the base of the hillside on which La Joya rests turns into a no-track. Nobody in La Joya owns cars. The "road" into town is littered with intermittent small boulders and trenches formed or placed by the rushing runoff of the rainy season. A man on a motorcycle led us up the hill with Roberto on foot directing José where to point the wheels of the van and another man in a red shirt beside the van placing rocks beneath the tires as necessary to gain traction. Once we crossed the first washed-out area of road, Roberto and the man in red climbed into the van for the rest of trip up the mountainside.

Once inside, the man who had been moving rocks introduced himself as José, our translator. He told us he lives two miles up the highway in a community called Ranchería. After showing us pictures of his family, he explained to us that the man on the motorcycle was Pastor Marvin, the pastor for La Joya, El Piloto ("the pilot") and Ranchería, which are all adjacent communities along the volcano. When the ground began to plateau, we could see a baseball game come into view. We parked momentarily to wait for the current half-inning to be through. A young caballero ("cowboy") on horseback swatted cows beside the van, keeping them from walking onto the baseball diamond (which must have doubled as a pasture or vice versa).

We arrived at Pastor Marvin's church - a quaint, two-room, plum-colored building abuzz with women and children. In fact, aside from Roberto, José, José (José says there are many Josés in Nicaragua.) and Pastor Marvin, there was only one other adult male in the church - the husband of Myra, the deaconess (Culturally, going to church for men is like drinking milk - an activity reserved for the young). The next oldest boy (the deaconesses' son) was 12. The rest were eight or younger. The service was well-attended by women of all ages. It had a very Lutheran structure. Three readings from the Word, the sharing of the peace, a sermon and lots of shout-singing (the kind only an excess of young children can generate) of traditional Lutheran hymns.

After church, Sandra - in an attempt to make conversation - asked one of the women in the congregation where the nearest market ("tienda") was. The woman responded with an inquisitive look. With José's help, Sandra discovered the reason why: "tienda" - in Nicaragua - means "night club." The woman thought that Sandra - fresh from a church service - wanted to go out dancing in the nearest seedy establishment. After saying our goodbyes, we went to "El Espigón" a fancy, open-air restaurant overlooking the Pacific. My Spanish dictionary said that "espigón" means "bee sting." Midway through the meal, Roberto corrected me, saying that it really meant "the bay." The table agreed that Roberto's translation made better sense.

Dan's devotion after dinner came from Acts 13; the story of Paul and Barnabas being called to work by the Holy Spirit. The message of the devotion: keep your tools ready, God will have work for you. After devotions, Sandra presented us with some interesting cultural information. First, Nicaraguans speak quickly and their words have a way of "swallowing each others' tails." As someone who likes to pretend that he understands a fair amount of Spanish, I can certainly verify this. Comprehension is very difficult here.

Second, the Nicaraguans use the "finger wag" (sometimes employing the whole arm) to say "no" in situations when verbalizing will not suffice. Nicaraguans also "use the ‘lip point' rather than your finger to indicate something by puckering up as if for a kiss and aiming where you want." Also, "the gesture North Americans would normally use to shoo something away - the outstretched, waving, down-turned hand - means just the opposite in Nicaragua, where the downward wave means, ‘Come here.'"

We are praying for you - for the sand, for team unity, for divine intervention and for God to be glorified and His love to be revealed. Thank you for serving the Lord in this way. We are serving you with prayers and love. Great blog. Charlie and Mary Ann

Wow. What a diary of events you are sharing with those of us, stateside. YOU are a wonderful writer, like your Mom, you make it seem like I am there in the midst of you. But, our Lord is right there in the midst of you and is blessing you with this experience that will change YOUR life, as you are helping HIM change the lives of those you meet. Tell them about Jesus, and His great love for them, tell them He is your brother and your friend. We are holding the fort here and thinking and praying for your team. Love to all, Lynn

Monday: We started the day off with devotions. We were going to start with breakfast, but Nicaraguans operate under a different notion of time than we do. That is to say, there isn't the same consideration for punctuality. My Dad - at home - sets his clocks ten minutes ahead of schedule so he's never late (although we all know what time it really is.). The Nicaraguans set their internal clocks ten-to-twenty minutes behind. Therefore, we have decided that when we meet in the mornings we will begin with devotions if the food isn't ready.

During devotions, Kevin asked the team how each of us came to be on the trip. Les said that his reason for coming was intricately tied to his passion for the water project. "5,000 children die every day around the world due to bad drinking water," he said. After a breakfast of pancakes, we gathered our things and met in the paved courtyard behind the hotel to load up into the van. On the ride over, Kevin put all of our minds at ease by asking Roberto if they have ticks in Nicaragua and what they did, and how they were removed. The answers were yes, burrow, burn - respectively.

The team gave a triumphant cheer accompanied by sprinkled applause when José made it flawlessly up the first part of the hill into La Joya. There was no need to put rocks beneath the tires today. On the project site, a boy named Mateo worked with us, pouring water into the buckets we were decanting. He seemed very eager to help and worked with us for a long time. We taught him the decanting process and he owned the responsibility wholly. At one point, I said to someone, "Mateo es trabajador [a ‘hard worker']." He smiled and seemed genuinely proud of the compliment.

Sandra and I set to work assembling a tippy-tap. A tippy-tap is a container - like a milk carton - filled with water and suspended between two trees/fence posts by a string of twine through the handle. Another string is tied to the nozzle of the jug. By pulling on that string, one can tip the jug towards oneself, and when the string is released, the jug uprights itself again (think of teeter-totter technology). Soap-on-a-rope is tied to the suspension string near the jug.

Imagine that your hands are dirty. You would pull the string down and water trickles out of a hole punched in the jug. You wet your hands in the water, lather with the nearby soap, then pull the string again to rinse. Now imagine that you are being attacked by flesh-eating ants. I almost lost my pinkie finger because I tied the tippy-tap suspension string to a tree with an ant metropolis within. Within seconds, two of them began slicing into my skin like hot mandibles through butter. A tippy-tap tip: check your support posts for critters.

Dan and Kathy brought a suitcase full of toys for the children. They played baseball and soccer, batted balloons into the air, not allowing them to touch the ground, yo-yoed, and played musical chairs, too. Carly and I went to the eleven houses that the previous (and first) MOST water team had visited. They each had an uncompleted filter in them. Some had two layers of gravel in the bottom, others had sand, too. We spent some time in the kitchen of Mayra, the deaconess and saw the working filter that had been set up by the July team. None of the previously-assembled filters had proper seals on the piping - a problem we will have to work on tomorrow (apparently, silicon alone doesn't do the job).

On the walk around the village, José tells us that the rainy season is very hard for the farmers. They have to dry their red beans by setting them in the sun. When the rain comes, it either rots the beans or causes new bean plants to grow from the beans drying on the ground. Either way, the crop can be ruined quite easily. It has rained every day since we have been here.

With the help of the local children, we finished all of the diffuser plates(diffuser plates are flat plates with holes punched into them. They exist so that when water is poured into the top of the filters, it doesn't disturb the bio-layer resting atop the sand - it simply drips through the holes). A little girl named Janiele sat with me for a long time working on them. She would hold the tin plate still while I made holes with a hammer and nail. When I was tired, she would take over and I would hold the plate still for her. We finished three together (which is a much bigger feat for a small person than it sounds).

After some trial and error, we determined that we drew near to the optimal flow rate (of water through the filters) with 50% sand that had been decanted three times and 50% unwashed sand. So tomorrow, we will try to wash the sand 1.5 times on average (meaning we will decant half of our sand buckets twice and the other half only once). The flow rate was too fast with sand that was washed three times, which is what the instructions dictate is solid process. We hope the riverbed sand won't give us so many problems tomorrow.

When we got back to the hotel, we were all tired. We ate, we had devotions, we debriefed, we learned about Nicaraguan culture, we talked about team logistics, and we closed in prayer. I went to bed after blogging without taking a shower. I'll have one tomorrow morning. We're going to the hardware store tomorrow, so we get to sleep in (it doesn't open until 8:00). This means breakfast is pushed back by a half-hour.

Tuesday: Les and I awoke at 6:58. Panicked by having to be at breakfast in two minutes, we began rushing around the room, throwing yesterday's clothes about. I shellacked the bottoms of my feet with deodorant before pulling on my already-worn socks. Half-way down the stairs, I noticed that something was wrong. I was having much more difficulty seeing through the crotch of my jeans than before and the arms of my t-shirt felt unusually tight around my thighs. We joined the others who had held-up devotions for us. We all ate and returned to our rooms to pack up our things before having to leave.