Sunday, January 31, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
I wish that I could offer each of you a glimpse into the life I lived in Honduras for 2 ½ years. One of the hardest parts of doing life there is that I could never truly explain it to the people at home. No matter how many pictures I took or stories I told people who had never lived there just didn’t “get it.”
When I close my eyes I’m back in Honduras and there’s a girl with scars on her arms and legs where her mother beat her with barbwire and I’m trying to talk to her about the love of God. I’m holding the hand of a girl who’s covered and scars and mentally handicap because her father cut into her with a machete. I see a little boy take a few licks off a piece of candy and then places it back in its wrapper because he’s not sure when he’ll get another one.
I’m sitting at a feeding center staring into the eyes of hundreds of kiddos who won’t eat anything but the meal they are being given at the center. I see a boy on a street corner sniffing paint thinner out of a bottle because getting high curbs the pangs of hunger. I’m standing at a restaurant when a man stops just so he can practice his English.
I’m walking down a dirt road surrounded by laughter and chatter coming from homes made of mud, scrap wood, metal, and anything else the family can find. I’m sitting in the back of the truck, hearing people on the streets yell out Gringa. (white girl) I see little brown faces of kids and adults alike who take delight in the smallest of things.
Some days even the smallest of things triggers a memory. Some days those memories are good and other days the memories aren’t so good…..but not a day goes by when I’m not plagued by those memories. The memories are sometimes painful but I’d be even more miserable if those memories stopped.
Those memories are the stories we missionaries share to satisfy inquiring minds of financial and moral supporters who think missionaries are angels. Who think that all missionaries have it all together…..all the time. But what we don’t tell people are the stories of our own struggles and doubts in faith and belief in a loving God. We do not tell them that we too occasionally get angry at the situations we are presented with and the fact that God “allowed it.” We don’t’ tell them about missionaries who have resorted to less than Godly methods of ridding ourselves of the pain within. . And we certainly don’t tell them that there are moments in the life of a missionary when our hearts get a little calloused over and we continue the work just because it is “right.”
I’m by no means complaining about those moments. I’m simply attempting to be a little more honest about what it was like to do life there for 2 ½ years so that I might be able to bridge the gap between there and here…. We aren’t angels. We are just every day Christians who are struggling through trying to make a difference. Some days the only difference we can tell between ourselves, saved sinners, and lost sinners is that the lost rejoice in their sin while we mourn ours.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Right behind Casa property is a group of houses. All of the families within are fairly poor and the area is run over with trash. After handing out bags of clothing we spent time helping the people of the community bag up the trash so that we could haul it away. It is easy to want to get frustrated at Hondurans for throwing their trash on the ground. However, Trash pick up is WAY different in Honduras than we are used to. There isn't a garbage man that comes around once a week to your house to haul away your trash. AND there aren't just public trash cans positioned in places along the roads or in towns. It is hard for them to dispose of their trash properly.
We spent 2 days playing at Casa. One night we had a bonfire/cookout with the kids and the other day we just showed up to play. We had a blast.
We built a house out in Santa Ana for a mother and her 3 boys. After we were finished building we were able to go to a little store and purchase rice, beans, coffee, milk, eggs, and a few other essential foods to give to the family as well.
The team met the Casa kids at the mall for dinner and a movie. However, in true Honduras style the movie time they posted in the paper and online was incorrect. Sooo we ended up just going out for ice cream afterwards. It is amazing how easy kids will shift focus when they hear they are getting ice cream!