From Nicaragua: Principles for Life and Mission

By Bill Cox

When I was just twenty-eight years old, I was diagnosed with cancer and given no hope. What I thought would be my end was just the beginning of a journey laden with miracles that took me far from my home in Tennessee. From Nicaragua: Principles for Life and Mission chronicles that journey. It is a story that begins with a love that God gave me for a place I had never been and for a people I did not know.

With nothing more than that love, I purposed in my heart to go to Nicaragua to stand with its people in their struggle to make a better life for themselves. Following that commitment, God made provision for the planting of a ministry there that has changed tens of thousands of lives, including mine. For me, a special part of that divine provision proceeded from a miraculous reunion with my Central American family whose patriarch, Col. John Alexander Downing, traveled to Nicaragua in 1866 with a fellow Missourian who later became renowned as one of Americas most famous literary icons.

Embedded in this extraordinary story of God events are principles for your life and mission.

La base sobre la cual se han fundamentado cada una de las palabras contenidas en las pginas de este libro provienen de mi amor y admiracin por el pueblo de Nicaragua. Los nicaragensesson gente muy orgullosa y patritica con una rica herencia cultural. Dndole un gran valor a sus relaciones afectivas, son gente muy cariosa y amable. Habiendo soportado muchos desastres naturales, disturbios polticos, guerras civiles y colapso econmico, los nicaragenseshan demostrado ser muy fuertes, siempre llenos de esperanza. De esta maravillosa gente he aprendido muchas de las mas valiosas lecciones de la vida.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Sep 6, 2013
• ISBN: 9781490804835

Bill Cox

Bill Cox's favorite directions are west, north, and uphill. He grew up in New Jersey, transited to Michigan for undergrad, medical school, and residency before heading to Alaska in 1984. While backpacking through Europe in 1972, a seed for adventure was planted after Bill took off uphill in the Swiss Alps and met Hans, an old man who spent his summers high up in the Alps, in the shadow of the Jungfrau, where he made cheese. Bill says, “I walked into a fairy tale.” That seed found fertile ground and sprouted in the Last Frontier known as Alaska—and even more so in the vast continent of Asia beckoning from just across the Pacific. Adventure called with 26 trips overseas which found him wandering across Siberia, Mongolia, India, and the smaller countries of Southeast Asia. From a sit-down meeting with the Dalai Lama in India to drinking gin with a member of the criminal mafia in the Russian Far East to coffee with a homeless street friend at an Anchorage, Alaska McDonalds, My Pursuit of the Axis of Evil will excite, educate, and exhilarate.

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From Nicaragua

Principles for Life and Mission

Bill Cox

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Copyright © 2013 Bill Cox.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-0482-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-0481-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-0483-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013914460

WestBow Press rev. date: 10/21/2013

Table of Contents

About the Author

Acknowledgements

Dedicated to the Memory of My Father

Chapter 1:   The Value of Family

Chapter 2:   Perspectives

Chapter 3:   Goin’ Home Ain’t Easy

Chapter 4:   What I Thought Would Be My End

Chapter 5:   A Call to Nicaragua, via Honduras

Chapter 6:   Colonel Downing Returns

Chapter 7:   The Pilgrimage

Chapter 8:   Nicaragua, Here We Come

Chapter 9:   A Team for Nicaragua Revealed

Chapter 10:   He Really Does Own the Cattle on a Thousand Hills

Chapter 11:   Fellowship’s Irresistible Influence

Chapter 12:   The Unconditional Love of Christ—Is Just That!

Chapter 13:   Groundbreaking 2001

Chapter 14:   For Everything There Is a Season

Chapter 15:   We Built It and They Did Come

Chapter 16:   Doña Ramona’s Story

Chapter 17:   Our Vision Becomes a Reality

Chapter 18:   Our Cup Runneth over into Matagalpa

Chapter 19:   Be Ever So Watchful

Chapter 20:   Render Therefore unto Caesar the Things Which Are Caesar’s

Chapter 21:   Mutability

Chapter 22:   What Do I Really Believe?

Chapter 23:   Somos un Equipo

Chapter 24:   Cameos of Ministry

Chapter 25:   An Ambassador of Two Kingdoms

Chapter 26:   Our Most Important Ministry Relationship

Chapter 27:   The Unveiling of Programa Amor

Chapter 28:   The Politics of Change

Chapter 29:   An Appeal on Behalf of Those We Love

Chapter 30:   The Journey Home

Chapter 31:   Our Mission Is Complete

Notes

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Bill Cox with his daughter and editor, Rebekah

About the Author

B ill Cox is a classic example of how God can use a self-described less than everyday person to advance His Kingdom. Beginning with nothing more than just a conviction to go there, Bill provided the leadership required to establish El Ayudante, Inc. as one of the most influential NGOs serving Nicaragua. As León Mayor Tránsito Téllez presented Bill the Key to the City of León before a special called meeting of the city council, he publicly proclaimed that El Ayudante had won the hearts of the people through the ministry of its mission teams.

During the ten years Bill served as El Ayudante’s Director of Missions for Nicaragua, the NGO’s ministry was recognized by national leaders including President Enrique Bolaños and Aminta Granera Sacasa, Director General of the National Police. In addition, El Ayudante’s child protection center became recognized by the Ministry of the Family as a model for Nicaragua. As residents of Nicaragua for over three years, Bill, along with his wife, Teresia, represented the United States Embassy in Managua as consular wardens to the Department of León under two U.S. ambassadors.

Bill is a native of Brownsville, Tennessee where he served his community in numerous capacities including as an elected member of the Haywood County Commission. In 2002, the Cox family moved to neighboring Madison County to join like-minded families in planting Fellowship Bible Church of Jackson where Bill served as an elder. Today, Bill resides with his wife, Teresia, and their daughters, Rebekah and Jennie, in Cumming, Georgia close to their son, Walt, and daughter-in-law, Rebekah.

Acknowledgements

W ith a sincere heart, I acknowledge as the foundation of every word recorded on the pages of this book my love and admiration for the Nicaraguan people. Nicaraguans are a proud and patriotic people with a rich cultural heritage. Placing the highest value on relationships, they are genuinely warm and friendly. Having endured natural disasters, political turmoil, civil war, and economic collapse, Nicaraguans have proven themselves to be resilient, always filled with hope. From this beautiful people, I am grateful to have learned the most valuable of life’s lessons.

To the staff of El Ayudante in León, thank you for your devotion to excellence which has been used by God to change thousands upon thousands of lives. Para siempre, somos un equipo.

With great appreciation, I recognize the Downings of Central America for their contribution to this story, our mission, and my life. As a result of the most miraculous of reunions, you will soon meet this remarkable family—my family. A special thanks to Peter and Annabel for allowing your home in Managua to be our place of refuge. Gracias Dr. James Downing, Tío Jaime, for all the wonderful stories of your grandfather and my great-great uncle, Col. John Alexander Downing. Many of your stories are preserved, bound together on the pages of this book. Dear Tía Olga, thank you for all the wonderful meals you prepared for me and for introducing me to pastel de tres leches (three milks cake).

May God bless the 9,000 plus short and long-term volunteers He has called to join El Ayudante and the Nicaraguan people in His work. My biggest regret is that I could not incorporate each of your names in this story. But do know this, if you came and served with us even for a day—you can grasp this book in your hand and tell your children and grandchildren, I was a part of this miracle they call El Ayudante!

I am grateful to my family for their sacrifice as they have followed God with me. Teresia, thank you for being a wonderful wife and mother. May God continue to bless our son, Walt, and his wife and our daughter-in-law, Rebekah, and our daughters, Rebekah and Jennie. My prayer is that your journeys with our Lord will continue long after I am gone from this place. A special thanks to my daughter and the primary editor of this book, Rebekah. From the boondocks of Nicaragua to the suburbs of Atlanta, thank you Jennie for being my shadow and comfort. To my dear mother, thank you for cherishing and passing down the stories of our family.

To my Lord who loves me more than I can fathom, thank you for allowing Your Son, Jesus, to come and save us. I pray that You will protect me from the things of and not of this world and especially from myself that I might remain in Your presence and serve with You until the end of my days. Truly, Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere (Psalm 84:10 NIV).

Dedicated to the

Memory of My Father

I t has been many years since God broke my heart for a place I had never been and for a people I did not know. Despite the years that have passed, I will lie down this evening and arise in the morning lost in the thought of Nicaragua and its people, which is but a reflection of their place at the very core of my soul. Before I stepped foot upon the path that led me to the land of lakes and volcanoes to meet a very special people, I discerned I was about to embark upon a journey that would allow me to become a part of something bigger than myself.

I pray for the right words throughout the pages that follow which will allow me to clearly express the principles important for life and mission God taught me along the road to Nicaragua. Interwoven throughout this story which binds together these principles is the concept of the value of family.

In that vein, I dedicate this book to the memory of my father, William Walter (Billy) Cox, Jr., who devoted his life to his family while placing the highest importance on integrity and service to others.

Daddy, who lost his father when he was twelve years old, grew up in a home being loved by his great-grandmother, grandmother, and mother—all widows. He also had the love of two older sisters, my Aunt Bette B. and Aunt Mary Lou, who watched over him. As a little girl, my Aunt Bette B. could and would whip any of the neighborhood boys who laid a finger on her little brother.

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Grandmother Nunn, May May, and Jennie Valiant Downing

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Noonie (Daddy), Aunt Mary Lou, and Aunt Bette B.

Momma showed me a note after Daddy’s death that was written by his grandmother when he was just a child which gave a cameo of the love that was in their home. Grandmother Nunn wrote, Billy, ‘Noonie,’ as he has nicknamed himself at two years of age, is the pride and joy of our lives. He is so smart, beautiful, and fine. His great-grandmother, Jennie [Valiant Downing], is foolish about him and he is crazy about her.

The love my father received from and had for his family gave him the desire for a good name¹ above all things. That desire, accompanied by his love for God, led to his life of devoted service to others, especially through public education.

On several occasions, my father was offered more lucrative administrative positions away from the challenges of public education. Respectfully, he declined those offers by saying, My devotion is to all the children of Haywood County. Daddy served the families of Haywood County, Tennessee for thirty-four years through the public education system, twenty-one years as Superintendent of Schools.

Most important to me, William Walter (Billy) Cox served his family as a devoted father and husband. My mother, Melba Elizabeth Acuff Cox, will adore him until her last breath.

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William Walter Cox, Jr. (Daddy) and

Melba Elizabeth Acuff Cox (Momma),

High School Sweethearts

CHAPTER 1

The Value of Family

G rowing up in the small town of Brownsville, Tennessee, the county seat of Haywood County, family was very special. Great-grandparents, grandparents, Mom and Dad, aunts, uncles and a wagonload of cousins—we were a clan. The front porch of my grandmother May May’s little frame house on Church Street was the Cox clan’s gathering place around sunset on lazy summer days. Only two blocks off the courthouse square, we would gather on the front porch just to watch the people pass by while listening to my great-grandmother Nunn’s stories from her favorite rocking chair with the low hum of locusts filling the air.

Grandmother Nunn’s best stories were the ones passed down by her mother, Jennie Valiant Downing, as told from the same rocking chair a generation before to my daddy, Aunt Bette B., and Aunt Mary Lou. Jennie had moved to Tennessee from Missouri to be with her family for the remaining years of her life. That’s what you did in those days when times were hard. To make ends meet, four generations lived together in that little frame house on the hill.

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John Alexander Downing

Born during the Civil War in the border state of Missouri and having eight brothers and sisters, Jennie was provided with great material for her front porch stories. The stories she told with the greatest passion had her oldest brother, Col. John Alexander Downing, as the hero. They spoke of his bravery while he served with a cavalry regiment under the command of Major Benjamin W. Shacklett. Other stories portrayed John as the adventurer, searching for gold in the Mother Lode Country of California. The most fascinating story chronicled John’s travel with his friend and fellow Missourian, Samuel Langhorne Clemens, who is more commonly known today by his pen name, Mark Twain.

As Jennie’s story goes, John Downing and Sam Clemens boarded the steamer, SS America, in San Francisco for the first leg of an expedition to New York through the Isthmus of Nicaragua. The steamer’s Pacific voyage was perilous and filled with intrigue. Mark Twain, in a series of letters to a San Francisco newspaper, Alta California, chronicled the trip and described a heavy storm—the heaviest Captain Wakeman has seen on this coast in seventeen years, except one—and the heaviest another old sea Captain (among our passengers) of twenty-eight years’ experience, ever saw in his life.² Twain was so relieved as they entered Nicaragua’s bay of San Juan del Sur, ending the Pacific voyage of the journey, that he wrote, the bright green hills never looked so welcome, so enchanting, so altogether lovely.³ The two Missourians and their traveling companions then began a twelve-mile journey by land with equestrian accommodations of saddle-horses, mules, and teams pulling mud wagons to Lake Nicaragua, where they were to take steamers across the lake and down the Rio San Juan into the Caribbean.⁴

Jennie’s version of the story is that somewhere in Nicaragua between two great oceans, John fell in love and remained. According to Jennie, her brother’s marriage into a prominent family prospered the Downing name throughout the land. It is recorded that Mark Twain continued his journey, eventually making port in New York Harbor.⁵

Even after his death in 1906, John Alexander Downing lived on through the stories of his baby sister, Jennie Valiant Downing, who idolized him. Yet, with hard times and the span of being an ocean away, the Downings of Nicaragua were lost for nearly a hundred years. However, God is not a respecter of time or distance. You will meet them again.

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Melvin Acuff and Lucile Adams Acuff

(Granddaddy and Nannie) at a

lumberman’s convention in Dallas

On my momma’s side of the family, very special to me was my grandfather, Melvin Acuff. He was a man who, by the grace of God, overcame very meager beginnings to prosper in the timber business. As a child, I spent summers with Granddaddy and Nannie (my grandmother, Lucile) in sawmill camps in river bottoms throughout West Tennessee and North Mississippi.

To this day, the smell of sawdust carries me back to those days and camps—waking up to the aroma of fatback bacon being cooked by Big Willie in a cast iron skillet that was always accompanied with eggs, sawmill gravy, and biscuits made from scratch. I can close my eyes and still see Cottrell through the early morning mist harnessing up the work horses readying them to pull gum, cypress, or oak logs cut from the forest to the mill and Pee Wee sharpening the blades of the saw that would take the rough logs and carve them into lumber or crossties. From that same mind’s eye, I can recall in vivid detail Nash Dancy, with a chainsaw in one hand and an old thermos in the other, walking down a winding loggin’ road cut through the dense forest. From sunup to sundown, the art of taking a tree from the stump to the mill and from the mill to the lumberyard continued. Granddaddy was right in the midst of it all. That was where he was most at home—in the depths of the woods.

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Granddaddy at home in the woods

My grandfather was a man’s man who loved both God and his family. Granddaddy’s love for family included my grandmother’s brothers and her father, who was lovingly referred to as Papa. Because Nannie’s mother died when she was just twelve years old, her brothers became more like her children. Absolutely, they were a tight-knit family who pulled together during the dark days of World War II.

After the bombing of Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, four of Nannie’s brothers enlisted to serve in the armed forces. Even though my mother was just six years old, she remembers the day she said good-bye to the last of her uncles heading off to war, Uncle Genie Boy. My mother recalls:

Daddy, Momma, Papa, and I were standing on the sidewalk in front of our Victorian home in Stanton underneath the ole red oak that remains there still. My older sister, Dorothy Marie, was sitting on the steps of the porch with our baby sister, Joy, at her side. The bottom part of the apron Momma was still wearing from cooking breakfast for us that morning was held tightly in her hands and used to wipe away her tears. Daddy had his arms around Momma trying his best to console her. Although brokenhearted, Papa stood there like a rock for us all as he watched his son leave for the train station, not knowing when or if he would ever see him again.

After pausing a moment, Momma continued, After Uncle Genie Boy left, Papa was all alone in his home at the far reaches of Haywood County and in poor health. Because Daddy loved Papa too, he insisted he come live with us. During days of black outs, air-raid drills, and rationing, Momma noted how reassuring it was for a little girl to see her father each evening at one end of the supper table and her grandfather at the other. She will never forget the prayers Papa prayed every night for his sons to come home from war—and all four did. In gratitude, Momma acknowledged, My grandfather and father remained unchanged in displaying their undying faith in God and strength of character and integrity.

Granddaddy’s integrity was very important to him. He would say to me, Bill Bo, I have never done business with anyone that I couldn’t go back and look them in the eye, extend my hand, and have it received. He would go on to say, A handshake from Melvin Acuff is better than any contract you can write on paper.

I best remember his value of integrity and love for God in how he conducted business with widows. When Granddaddy cut timber for a widow, he refused to make a dime for himself. He would cover his expenses for the job and give the profit to the widow in respect to James 1:27: Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress. You will see this verse will also one day have special meaning for me.

I could spend all day and half the night telling stories of family. Even though in the eyes of the world we didn’t have much, the experiences of my childhood in the context of the love and community of my family are priceless. My May May Cox put it like this, Baby, all I can leave you are fond memories, a good name, and the high blood pressure. She left me with all three and, except for the high blood pressure (which I can live with), each is priceless.

As I write the pages of this book, I realize my life is a testimony of how God uniquely places us in a family to prepare us for the journey He planned for us even before the foundation of the earth was laid. My journey would lead me far from Haywood County.

CHAPTER 2

Perspectives

W hen I was twenty-six years old, I thought I held the world in the palm of my hand. In my mind, I was bulletproof. Teresia and I loved each other very much, and we worshiped our son, Walt. We lived in a little brick house on a quiet street with storybook neighbors in small-town, Tennessee. I was prospering in my field of training in a high profile job serving people I loved and felt most at home with—the farming community.

My fishin’ buddy, Wray Pulliam, and I could go to the river and fill up the ice chest with crappie almost anytime we wanted. Leslie McCool and I had great duck hunting holes on the farm and in the river bottoms of my childhood. I attended church most every Sunday—even taught Sunday school.

I had achieved at an early age my definition of a perfect life. It’s funny how perspectives change with time. My job with the Soil Conservation Service of the United States Department of Agriculture took my little family to various communities throughout Tennessee. In 1985, while serving as District Conservationist in Union City, I was standing in the middle of a soybean field with a farmer talking about the price of beans (and the need for some terraces, too) when I heard Miss Bobbie’s voice over the two-way radio in the truck announcing, Union City Base to Union City One.

As I leaned across the seat of that straight shift, ’72 Chevrolet pickup, half in and half out, I picked up the mike and responded to that dear lady who on paper was the office secretary but in reality was more like the office mom. She replied, Bill, you need to come back to town and call home. Miss Bobbie did not have to tell me why. Granddaddy Acuff had bravely battled cancer for several years. It was a battle he had no chance to win. When I called Momma, she said, Come home as quick as you can. Your grandfather has asked to see you.

Granddaddy had been transferred from the hospital in Memphis to our little hospital in Brownsville to be near those who loved him most. When Granddaddy knew he was at the end, he just wanted to leave that big city with its big city hospital and come home.

In our very simple hometown hospital, our (and most of Brownsville’s) family doctor and friend, Dr. David Earl Stewart, made sure Granddaddy was comfortable and had a room where he could look out the window and see the woods of a little creek bottom across the way. When I arrived at the hospital and walked into his room, Granddaddy held out his hand to shake mine. He was always big on handshakes, saying how a man shook your hand said a lot about that man. The strength in his handshake was now gone.

We visited for a while, and soon I found out why he wanted to see his oldest grandson. Granddaddy wanted to tell me once more he loved me and was proud of me. Every young man needs to hear that from those he respects. Afterwards, I sat beside his bed, looking out the window with him toward the creek bottom.

Granddaddy died soon thereafter. Something about that event—his death—changed me. Even though I did not know why, all I wanted to do was to come back home to Haywood County. My desire for home was enhanced by some unexplainable health issues, which I developed shortly thereafter.

CHAPTER 3

Goin’ Home Ain’t Easy

G oing home isn’t always as easy as it sounds. In order to return to Haywood County, I would have to leave a great job where I was moving up quickly through the ranks. In addition, moving would require Teresia and me to put the home we owned on the market. (Actually, we were making payments at eighteen percent interest on a home we hoped to own thirty years down the road.) We had friends and were respected in the community where we lived. To abandon these things went against every grain of logic and common sense I had in my body. At a minimum, I would need a decent job to provide for my family.