Imagine someone telling you that for $8 a day for the next month, you’ll be responsible for taking care of all of your needs: food, lodging, and transportation. You’ll be flying into a foreign country with a language you do not speak, having less than 44 pounds of belongings crammed into a backpack. You all have two weeks to plan in advance, but once your feet leave the airport’s cool tile floors, you’re on your own. You can go anywhere in the country, you can do anything you would like. This month is deemed an “ATL month,” one where you’re supposed to Ask The Lord what His plan is for this upcoming month of your life. Find your own ministry, make some new friends, connect with the city… it’s all up to you and how The Spirit leads.
Sounds exciting, doesn’t it? Making your own rules, creating your own schedule, relying on God to fully provide, asking Him where in the entirety of Panama He wants you to be.
Well, here are some of the stories from our “ATL.”
Two weeks prior to arriving in Panama, Team Zion was looking at cities while crowded around a table in the Dominican Republic. The theme of “David” was coming up quite a lot, and lo and behold– a city named David in the country of Panama. Planning began taking place: where would we stay? What was around the area? What churches could we connect with?
“My mom met a lady that has a house in the city of David that she would be willing to let us live in for the month,” Amanda noted in passing one day during team time. “She said we could stay there for free if we wanted.”
Our mouths hung open. A house? Free of charge? WITH AIR CONDITIONING? And with… Couches? And a flat screen TV? AND A STOVE? FOR OUR OWN FOOD? AND THERE’S A WASHER AND DRYER FOR OUR CLOTHES? Absolutely.
“Do we know how to get to the grocery store?” we asked Naomi, following the instructions on her phone.
“The map isn’t telling me what road to take– the fork is too obscure,” she replied, furrowed at the screen.
As we stood at the corner of a busy intersection, two elderly men shuffled closer down the sidewalk. They looked up to see five Gringas stopped at the end.
‘Great,’ I thought to myself, ‘more catcalling. This is gonna be DR all over again.’
“Hello, do you all need help?” One of them kindly asked us in English.
We blinked in surprise. “Yes, we do!! We’re trying to get to this grocery store,” we gestured.
She showed them the name. “We know where that is. We’re on the way to our apartment building, along the same route. We can show you!”
Imagine, if you will, two men aged by the sun and bronze skin weathered by hard work, dressed in their worn suits, one sporting a fedora, the other aided by a cane, shuffling along the crosswalk of a quick intersection. This has been their daily route of thirty years, happy in their neighbor’s company as they walk home from teaching English classes; only this time, they’re accompanied by five young, white-skinned women, curious and misplaced. The girls slow their long strides as they keep in time with their new guides who tell them of the city and of their well-lived lives. The two men stop at the beginning of the new street and give them further instructions. Quite the hodge-podge of people, walking down the sidewalk of the bustling city.
“We live right here if you ever need anything,” they say. “Our families would be happy to help you.”
We didn’t have directions, we didn’t have food, we didn’t have friends. And within the moment, we suddenly had it all.
Stepping into David after a ten-hour bus ride, we met Donny and Enrique, nephew and brother of the lady who generously donated her house. They picked us up, and for the whole month, these two men moved their schedules around to accommodate our ministry needs. They brought us home cooked meals and showed us the wifi password, suggested spots around town and brought us to their church. While taxis were sometimes necessary, our cost of transportation was low, and we had two additional friends. Our conversations with Donny, who spoke sufficient English, typically followed this format:
“DONNY!” the five of us would cheer, squeezing onto each other’s laps in the back of his car.
“Oh, hello everyone! How are you today?” He would stutter, smiling back.
“We’re good, Donny, we’re good,” we’d nod. “How are you? What did you do yesterday?”
“Me? Oh, I studied.”
Donny, a full-time student, didn’t do much other than study… and cart us around town. He expressed that as a 27-year-old, he loved going out to the bars with his friends, but between moving cities, pursuing nursing and Covid regulations, he wasn’t doing anything too fun on the weekends. And while he did have to drive us to the bus stop, the mall and the grocery store, maybe those were the moments he loved. Simply saying hello and taking him out for coffee could have been something more appreciated than we think.
We asked if there were any evangelical churches around, and Enrique so graciously invited us to his church. Due to the language barrier, we ended up attending Catholic mass, quite the contrast from the Haitian churches we had found ourselves in a month prior. Disheartened that David was a much smaller city than we had anticipated, our hopes of finding anything were little. But as Enrique drove us to his house, our eyes brushed past a “evangelico” church building. We made it a priority to find it in the following days, and sure enough, later on in the week, we came across just what we were looking for.
After hours of shopping and walking, we wandered through the neighborhoods. On the other side of one, there it was: the church. Sweaty and smelly, us five girls walked through the open office doors of the church. Naomi, our team’s best Spanish speaker, explained to the pastor sitting in his office why there was a group of five foreign women standing in front of his doorway.
“I don’t speak English, but there’s a pastor that partners with our church that does. We can call him for you.”
His assistant led us through the hall and into the sanctuary where we sat and waited for someone to attend to us. After a while, his assistant came back in.
“He’s on his way,” he explained. “The pastor will be here in five minutes.”
Soon, a couple entered. The wife, clearly from the States, welcomed us immediately (in English!!). Her husband, a buff, Panamanian native, looked at us with skepticism. As they sat down, we allowed them to interrogate us about how five American women missionaries came to David, Panama, with no plan or friends in the area. As we answered all of their questions, they began showing more interest. We left the two hour conversation with new plans and new friends.
And eventually, a new family.
This family invited us to their church the upcoming Sunday. That day, we met their eleven daughters and son, grandmother, and congregation. We were swarmed by friendly faces and English-speaking couples from the States spending their retirement doing ministry in Boquete, Panama. We spent Sunday afternoons at their house; our weeks were full of feeding neighborhood kiddos and connecting with members of the congregation. They crammed us all in a 15-passenger van, took us on hikes, included us in their family band, introduced us to new friends, and loved us the whole month.
“If you remember Anne from our congregation, she would love to take you guys to help with a VBS program for the indigenous community in the mountains of Boquete. I can give her your contact information if that would be something you all would want to do,” Stacy wrote us.
“Absolutely,” our team agreed.
There was an underlying irritation that began our day. We stumbled out of bed earlier than anyone would have liked, too rushed to make team coffee, as we crammed in the back of Donny’s car so he could drop us off at the bus stop. We traveled over an hour to a new destination, and hopped off the bus to cross over to the parking lot where we were to wait for Anne.
“Coffee…” some of us mumbled in zombie-like state as we trudged to the nearest shop, The Garden.
Being the last one through the doors, the first thing I heard was an unfamiliar voice.
“You’re missionaries?”
‘English.’
I looked past my teammates to see a sweet blonde lady looking at all of us from behind the counter, clearly not from Panama. There’s a boy behind the glass making a pastry. The opposite wall had a beautiful mural of mountains and birds and rivers. Chess and checkers were set to play on the tables, and the room behind the counter had a boat with booths in it. Something about this place was… comfortable.
“Please, help yourself. We have pastries and sandwiches and drinks. With a purchase, we have free coffee and tea,” she gestured to the bar top with a hot thermos.
We blinked at her for a moment, and immediately ordered coffee as we told about who we were and what we were doing. Learning that her son, Drew, was deaf, Madison walked over and promptly began conversation with him.
After Ramsey had given us our drinks (on the house), she sent us off into the day.
“I pray Divine protection over you,” she commanded, “may Satan have no grasp on anything today. May you all be unified, healthy, and may the peace of God come upon you. I speak against any lies, doubts, tricks that The Enemy is trying to use against what you’re doing. I pray for a new outpouring of the Holy Spirit, and that you all would go into the rest of this month with a renewed fire.”
The ladies that walked into The Garden were not the same people that walked out. We left light-hearted, renewed, not realizing just how much we had needed that encouragement. We hopped into Anne and Andy’s cars, ready to serve.
“I hope we see her again.”
“Oh, we will be seeing her again.”
And we did. They took us on a tour of Boquete, Drew smoked me in checkers and their other son Matt spoke Gym Rat with me the entire evening (a blessing, truly). They provided food, shelter, and an unshakable presence. Our last night together, we closed up shop, and spent the night hour or two praying for one another and our families.
I could go on, but you get the point.
The Lord provides, friends. Don’t ever doubt where you are and why. Submit to His will, and the way you’ll see the Body work in real time will place you in a position of awe.
*names changed for privacy reasons
Man oh man. I would surely have a hard time doing this! I always gotta have a plan! But you 5 ladies were amazing. Are amazing!!! Just going forth, trusting the Lord to lead and provide! And He did! I enjoyed reading this and long to hear more when you are back. Thanks for taking time to share. God bless you. May you always feel His Presence.
Sarah – Great story telling! I enjoyed every detail and felt like I was there with you Thank you for sharing this.
This is so cool Sarah! The Lord is so GOOD! He is truly our PROVIDER! Thank you for telling us all of these beautiful stories! We love you so much Sarah! Praying for you always sweet one!
THIS right here is what it’s all about. Love your writing & telling of stories. Thanks for this; I’m encouraged.
Thanks for sharing, Sarah. I feel like I’m right there with you in the midst of seeing the hand of God at every turn. Praise Him!