Just take the ticket

Today I bought a ticket for the local Lions' Club Memorial Day Barbeque Dinner, which benefits the Tennessee School for the Blind. I got in line to get my food and tried to hand the lady my tickets so I could go through the line. I started getting frustrated with the lady because she was clearly not paying attention to me. I was thinking, "Just take the ticket!" Then I realized that she was blind. I was getting frustrated with her for not understanding that she needed to take my ticket, but she didn't even know I was there. She couldn't see me standing there. The same thing happens with the gospel.

II Corinthians 4 says, "the god of this world has blinded the minds of unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus's sake. For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ."

Unbelievers live in blindness. They can't see the glory of the gospel of Christ. When Christians try to convey the incredibleness of the gospel, these unbelievers may just hear facts. They are so blinded by what this world has taught them to believe that they can't understand how immaculate the gospel is. Christians get frustrated by this. I have a God that is so indescribably glorious that I can't help but see his glory in everything, so it's hard for me to comprehend why everyone else can't see it just as clearly.

People live in darkness without the light of the gospel. Their hearts are like the unformed world. But God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. He does the same thing in the hearts of man. God can take a heart that is completely blinded by Satan and make light shine in it. This light is the glory of the gospel of Christ. God's love can flip a switch in someone and allow them to see what the world has not allowed them to see. God's glory is so bright that no amount of darkness could subdue it, but if your mind is blind, it doesn't matter how bright it is, because all you see is darkness. Luckily, we worship a God who can make the blind man see.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered

II Corinthians 3:3 says, "And you show that you are a letter from Christ delivered by us, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone, but on tablets of human hearts." Christians are love letters from God written to the world. We are here to share what God has to say.

Some of us act like wadded up pieces of paper that we think God intended to be thrown in the trash. We think that God has made a mistake or that we're not good enough or capable of sharing the gospel with others. This is completely wrong. There are no typos in God's letters. He made everyone in his image and with the capability to fulfill their pupose and spread his message. There is no letter too torn, too stained, or too smudged to be sent. Like Paul (who wasn't exactly super-Christian his whole life) said in Philippians 3:13, we must forget "what lies behind" and strain "forward to what lies ahead."
Okay, so you're moving forward. You're good enough to be sent out. You have the whole gospel and you think you've got it all figured out, but you're just hanging out at the post office. You're comfortable there. You can share your letter with the other letters, and that's just fine with you. It's the world beyond the post office that scares you. But like Paul says in Romans 10, ^"How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him  of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching? And how are they to preach unless they are sent?" Millions of souls are lost without the gospel, and they need a letter from God so that they may find joy in his salvation, rather than an eternity wishing that someone had told them.
Finally, there are some of us like Isaiah in Isaiah 6:8 when he proclaims, "Here am I! Send me!" Some people want the Lord to open doors for them to share the Lord's love with the world. They do not sit and wait for the opportunity to present itself. They are not comfortable with keeping the letter to themselves. They want God to send them to all in need of a Savior.
Christians are God's perfectly written letter to the world. Christ has already delivered Christians and "sealed our hearts for his courts above." There is no flaw or stain that could decrease the power of what is written in the letter. We cannot hoard this letter for ourselves only, but we must be sent out into the world so that all may see the glory of God and all may find joy in worshipping him for eternity.

You Look High

Tonight after church services someone came up to me and said, "Jessica, you look high when you sing upstairs. You're all smiley." This statement brought about some mixed emotions. I was creeped out & wondering why they were staring at me while I was singing. I was offended because apparently I look like a stoner during worship. Then I got kinda sad. Smiling shouldn't be anything that stands out in worship. Smiling should be the result of worship. Granted we all have a different relationship with the Lord and worship him differently, if the fact that we are able to freely praise our holy Savior who suffered in our place so that we may worship him eternally doesn't make us smile, we have a serious problem.  If you aren't smiling when you're praising the God of Creation, when are you smiling? A stupid joke? When your team wins? It doesn't take much to make most of us smile or laugh, but it takes a whole lot to get us to seem the least bit joyful while we're praising God. If we don't enjoy praising Christ on earth, we're going to have a rough time in heaven, because according to Revelation, we're gonna be doing quite a bit of singing up there. Next time you "stand and sing," remember what you're singing and why you're singing it, and maybe, just maybe, you may smile.

Feast or Farce?

God has prepared a feast for us. We walk inside and there is a table overflowing with the most delicious foods imaginable- incredible beyond imagination even. We stand in the doorway of the dining room and survey the spread. We then decide to turn around, walk out the door, and go to a trailer parked outside to buy a mud pie. Yum.

We do the same thing with joy. Humans desire satisfaction. We crave pleasure and that "feel good" high. We seek it everywhere, in everything. Only God can fulfill this desire. We can find temporary pleasure in the things of earth, but it always ends and it's always superficial. But worshipping God fills us with joy. I Peter 1:8 says that the joy found in Christ is inexpressible and filled with glory.I have done a lot of fun and exciting things in my 17 1/2 years on this earth, but I don't recall anything that gave me a joy that was  "inexpressible and filled with glory." When we give glory to God, we are filled with joy that pales in comparison to any other happiness. If we trust in Christ and hand our lives over to him, we can experience eternal joy, one that is indescribable. So if we know that worshipping God and giving him the glory in our lives gives us incomparable joy, why do we settle for dirt? Why do we look for pleasure in material possessions, other people, or ourselves? God can fulfill our utmost desires for joy and pleasure, so stop seeking it elsewhere. Enjoy the feast. Don't settle for a mud pie.

Christians Need the Gospel

Everyone needs the gospel. The good news of the salvation found in the coming, death, and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. But Christians need it more than anybody in the world. Christians are in desperate need of the gospel. When they wake up in the morning, when they look at God's creation, when they are humbled, when they are strengthened- reminders of how much they need the gospel. Christians crave the gospel. They want more. One hymn says, " I love to tell the story and those who know it best are hungering and thirsting to hear it like the rest." The gospel is to the soul as nourishment is for the body. It's like air. The Christian cannot survive without the gospel. The Christian is dependent upon the gospel. The Christian is nothing without the gospel. Christians need the gospel.

Unequally Yoked

Two 15-year-old brothers wanted to go see an R-rated movie with their friends. They went to ask their conservative father. They explained how the movie had only a little bit of violence, a little bit of nudity, and a little bit adult content. It was nothing terrible. Nothing too harmful. The father said he would think about it. A couple hours later the father called the boys downstairs. He had made brownies. He told the boys that they could go to the movie if they would eat one of his brownies. He explained that they were delicious brownies, but they had just a little bit of the family dog's poop mixed in, but not much- you couldn't even taste it.

II Corinthians 6:14 tells us to not be unequally yoked with unbelievers. We try to fight this verse. It's okay for us to hang out with unbelievers sometimes, especially when they're doing something fun. No, we may not go out all night drinking with them, but we go to a movie, shopping, or a party with them. It's no big deal. But here's the deal- it is a big deal. God wouldn't take time to put it in his Word if it wasn't. God doesn't want his people being hindered by nonbelievers. Even a little. This is hard to take in. I understand. Some of my best friends have made God the least of their priorities, but turned to other outlets like money, sex, drugs, or just apathy. I love them. I love to hang out with them. But I've got to separate myself if I want to stay true to God, and that's what's most important. I can still reach out to them, but I've got to make sure that leading them to God is my first priority, and have no other motivation. The best part of this is, God provides me with other godly friends. Jesus is the ultimate friend, but through prayer I've found that God will lead us to people that love us and love Him if we let him & we look for them. It's not easy to separate ourselves from those who don't love God, but if we truly believe that God is Lord, and we are proclaiming his name in all that we do, there's no reason that we shouldn't want our friends to do the same.

That Guilty Feeling

This week I'm participating in the Unchartered Conference which is hosted by Unearthed Ministries. This year's conference is about global missions, which is obviously very close to my heart. One speaker shared her experience about post-mission trip stress. After returning from Ethiopia she would weep every time she went in her room and saw her possessions, sat down to eat a meal, or did anything revolving around the material. She would get angry with those who were wasteful or who didn't understand how she felt. It got to the extreme point where she was depressed, angry, and thankfully, sought counseling from a Christian friend. I must admit that I felt this when I returned from Honduras. "Why do I have so much & they have so little? I don't need all of this stuff. Hundreds of children don't get food, so I shouldn't eat either." I look in the mirror and I feel incredibly guilty because I'm a middle-class, white, American. Though it comes from a pure and compassionate heart, this is a distorted way of thinking. We don't need to feel guilty about the things God blesses with. All things are from God. Nothing belongs to us anyway. However, we to have a responsibility to take care of those in need. Rather than destroy ourselves with guilt, we need to take advantage of our blessings to help those in need.

Day 13: Homesick for Honduras

I was packed & ready to go before anyone else was even awake. I walked to Daisy's house to say my last goodbyes, but I didn't want to. I love those kids & I pray that they stay in the house on the farm, despite isolation. Then I finished getting ready, then said goodbye to the kids again. The hardest part of this morning was saying goodbye to Mrs. Pat. If I see her next year it will be in her new home in Macuelizo. I think what made it hard for me was that she told me I always have a home in Honduras. For the last 2 weeks I've been wishing to be home, but really, I was home the whole time. Home is where the heart is, and parts of my heart will forever be scattered throughout Santa Barbara, Honduras. My heart will be with Daisy's children, my heart will be in the clinic, my heart will be with Saul on Cemetery Rd, my heart will be with the Green Wells school, my heart will be with Elbia, my heart will be in Las Plias, and my heart will be scattered across La Entrada. There are people who love me in Honduras, but I love them more.

Then we drove to Gumalitos and I bought out the place once again. I had to pee the whole way there and Kelsey ran into the one bathroom in front of me. Of course, she knocked the toilet paper off the rack, it hit a pipe, & water started spraying everywhere. Then we shopped. I said goodbye to all the Maine people, which wasn't as hard as I though. Mr. Ray was a little more difficult. Then Stan, David, & Cliff drove us to the airport. After checking bags, paying taxes, & eating lunch we said our last goodbyes. David was hard just because he's such a cool little old man. Cliff was really hard because we became so close this week. I think I'll miss him, Dan, & Laura the most.

Sometimes you do something and it gets under your skin. It makes your heart beat and forces air into your lungs. It opens your eyes to what was once invisible. It gives you the strength to run forever. It gives you the ability to sing & laugh & cry. It makes you want to share your life with others. It makes you so joyous that words cannot describe it, though it comes at a painful cost. It takes everything from you, but returns much more. It makes you question everything you ever knew and gives you answers to things that you'll never know. It gives you experiences you'll never relive or bother to try to describe. I don't know what it is, but I found it here.

-Namaste-

Day 12: One More Day

Last day. This morning we got up and went to Adelaida's church to do Sunday school. We did an Easter story play, passed out eggs with jellybeans, & did coloring sheets. One boy was particularly precious. His name is Donny and he climbed on Cliff like a monkey the whole time. Then we went back to La Flecha and I bought a piece of pottery for my mom, but, of course, I've already forgotten what it's called. Kelsey & I skipped another hanging bridge experience to ride with the old people to Cafe Ray's. I got a tamalito, but I couldn't even finish it all. We came back and started packing. Kelsey found my military bag that I lost last week. I then discovered that I accidentally stole a duffle bag from La Flecha. So, to you readers, Kelsey Humphreys is in possession of a black market Honduran duffle bag. Then Cliff took us on a hike down to the river, which was pretty cool. They said it would be like a tropical rain forest, but I don't think it's any different from a hike somewhere around Nashville. We came back and ate chicken, stuffing, mashed potatoes, corn, & brocolli- the most normal meal Cliff has made all week. Then we went to the craziest church service yet. There were dancers (God's cheerleaders), hard rock bands, jumping all over the place, & people were passing out everywhere. However, this church was home to the prettiest boys. I think I liked Mr. Ray's message about Elijah and the mantle. The church certainly did. Mr. Ray had brought a blanket to represent the mantle/Holy Spirit & the pastor there demanded that he have it. He then proceeded to run around the church, flinging the blanket in the air yelling, "I have the Holy Spirit! We will never give this mantle away!"

Finally, Cliff stopped to pick up ice cream on the way home (though Jim claimed it was arsenic-laced). Then I took my last shower. Unfortunately, it was the shower Casey broke last night, only I broke it further today. Tomorrow I leave, but I don't know if I'm excited anymore.

-Namaste-

Day 11: Put that in your Honduran pipe & smoke it

This morning we went back to the laurels and had much more fun. We played with the kids & handed out aprons, candy, & bras. Then we returned to La Entrada. It seemed cooler today, but I found nothing to buy & the guys were much more aggressively attracted to us. Then we came back to the farm for a short break before giving more food bags. We returned to Cemetery Rd. (where a lady w/ epilepsy & 14 children live). We gave several food bags, but one house I especially loved. An old lady greeted me at the gate, followed by a man who clearly had some medical issues. I flagged down Mr. Ray to find out fi he was receiving any medical attention from Cristo Salva or another group. Mr. Ray had never talked to this family, but he knew that the man had experienced a stroke and had recently fallen & busted his head open. This man with the stroke, Saul, was super nice, though he couldn't speak. They invited a small group of us inside, where we found an older man, a daughter, and a 3 month old baby. The baby didn't have a name yet. Most families in the area wait for almost a year to name babies because it is highly likely that they will die. I got to pray for them. I don't know what it was about that family (I think it was Saul), but I really liked them. I pray that God blesses them & I know he will meet their every need.

We then went to church, where I was groped by an old lady. Friendly, these Hondurans.

-Namaste-

Kids at the Laurels

Day 10: Mucho Loco

Whew. 3 days until I'm home. Today was a little crazy. This morning we drove into this huge city in the mountains (a little past Las Plias, the other mountain village) to visit Elbia. Elbia is a young girl (10 maybe?) whom Cristo Salva discovered begging in the La Entrada bakery. They gave her money, but she turned and gave it to another beggar, one poorer than she. Since then Cristo Salva has regularly supported her. The second we arrived at her house she ran up to the van, hugging and kissing every one of us. She lives in extreme poverty with her parents and several siblings, who are all sponsored by Cristo Salva. While there, Kelsey & I handed out uniforms, then I helped Dan teach the family how to treat the youngest child's ear infection. After a long goodbye we returned to the farm for lunch, then back to the clinic.

Mrs. Pat said that today was one of the worst days they have ever seen at the clinic. I worked with Dan the whole time. I helped treat a disgusting eye infection, a heat rash, ear infections, eczema, and told one lady that she was pregnant. It's somewhat entertaining how people come in with one problem, which turns into about 5 problems, and they leave with a grocery bag full of pills. Outside of our "room" there were much crazier things going on. One set of twins  would need to be sent to the States as soon as they were born in order to receive treatment for a heart condition. Mrs. Pat located a doctor who would deliver them and found a way to get them to Miami. One lady was pregnant with siamese twins that were joined at the abdomen. Luckily we found a hospital that would deliver them and arrange for them to be sent to Miami to be separated. One man had to be rushed to the hospital in Sula because he had been shot in the face over a land dispute and his jaw had been shattered- he was holding his jaw up with his hand. The bullet was still in his neck. A 28-year-old woman had a stroke, which is believed to have been caused by a certain bug native to Honduras that is known for biting babies, which results in major problems like strokes, annurisms, and heart attacks 25-30 years later. One boy has a disease that causes him to age rapidly. The very worst was a little boy with cancer. A massive tumor had developed in his face, which forced him to wear a mask and stay home from school. The tumor had swollen his eyes shut and severely distorted the position of everything else on his face. There is no treatment, especially since his family has no money. We prayed for him, which is more powerful than any medicine, and sent him on with some stuffed animals and plenty of juice boxes. The one upside of the day was another boy with cancer...kind of. The last time he came into the clinic he was diagnosed with cancer and sent to the hospital, where it was confirmed. The Cristo Salva team prayed for him before he was sent into surgery in Sula. When the surgeons went into his stomach to remove the cancer, there was nothing there. It was truly a miracle.

After the clinic we walked to Maria's house to eat and, once again, it was delicious.

-Namaste-

Elbia

Day 9: Gallina, Gallina, Gonzo

This morning we went to teh Green Wells school across the river. I think the kids there like us more than any other group we've seen. They seemed to accept the fact that I spoke very little Spanish, so I was able to carry on a conversation with them. After playing for a while, Dan & I developed a Spanish version of duck, duck, goose- gallina, gallina, gonzo. It got super intense. There was extreme tackling. After that we returned to the farm and I threw on some scrubs and headed to the clinic. Today was the second day the clinic was open. Yesterday some of our group opened it. They treated an extreme burn wound, a little girl with a bot fly, and numerous other strange cases. Today I got to help treat a machete wound, examined a pregnant belly, took blood sugar, and a plethora of other interesting things. We then went to an extremely small church and Jazmin made us sing "Santuario," which we sang with our group last week, but this week's group wasn't much for singing. When we returned to the farm I stayed up late with Mr. Ray, Dan, and some Maine people cracking up over jokes and stories from Becca & Laura, who were discussing their Nana, who died on Pi Day.

-Namaste-

                            The Green Wells School                      Man with Machete Wound



Day 8: Discontent Contentment

Today was a pretty good day. I would still like to be at home, but I'm okay with being here. We went to the kinder where Jazmin teaches, which was a lot of fun. Particularly the Frisbee. We then did food distribution throughout Macuelizo, which took me to some places I'd never been before. Some of us finished painting Daisy's house while another group went to the first day at the clinic. My group (Jim, Katie- Jim's wife, Colt- the token male, and Suzannah- expert bird watcher) was fascinated by southern-isms, paticularly the commonality of the phrase, "Yee-haw!". When we got done I called my mommy and we talked for quite a while, which made me quite happy. Only to increase my happiness, Daisy's kids returned and came up proclaiming how much they loved the house. I love those kids and I'm already sad that I'm going to have to leave them, particularly since Daisy & Gregario are in deep dispute over whether to stay or leave the house, which is relatively isolated. We went to the church in Macuelizo, which was decorated with what appeared to be Valentine's Day decorations, like swans in the shape of hearts. We went out again for shakes, only to be disappointed because they were all out of banana. I had to settle for strawberry, which wasn't nearly as good. I discovered that though I am not a fan of Cliff's cooking, I am a fan of Cliff. I think we will be friends.

Since I didn't have much to say today, I figure I'll tell you about Jazmin. Jazmin was born in Mexico and illegally crossed the border and made it to New York. She was raised in New York, where she became fluent in both English and Spanish, until she was 13 or 14. Due to some health complications in her family and a new marriage, Jazmin was forced to move to Macuelizo, leaving some of her siblings behind in America. She met a man who became her "husband." In Honduras they don't really have weddings, but girls consider themselves to be married. He supported her livelihood and eventually Jazmin became pregnant with twins. Unfortunately, she had a miscarriage and lost both babies. It was during this tragedy that Jazmin sought medical and emotional counseling from Cristo Salva. The Cristo Salva team helped her through this process, taught her about pregnancy prevention and prenatal care, and led her to Christ. She stayed with her husband and two years later became pregnant with her daughter, Isa. A few months after Isa's birth, Jazmin's mother discovered that Jazmin's husband was beating his infant daughter. When Jazmin witnessed this, she forced her husband to leave. What Jazmin never told her mother was that Jazmin had been abused by her husband for most of their relationship, but she was too afraid to leave him. He was supposed to support Isa in order to visit her, but eventually he stopped. Jazmin hasn't seen him in more than a year. He currently has another wife and several other children. Jazmin has come so far since then. She's 19 and in school training to be a math teacher, but currently works as an English teacher in a kinder. She lives with her mother, younger brothers, and daughter, who she is able to support. She is passionate about God and is now able to see how he worked in her life. She's looking forward to her bright future and hopes that one day she can find a man that truly loves her for who she is and possibly return to America. I'm proud to call her my friend.

-Namaste-

Jazmin :)

Day 7: I Hate Honduras, just a little

I was told that Cliff, our cook for this week (replacing Mrs. Pat from last week), was the god of the kitchen. When he proves this, I'll be sure to document it. Kelsey is really homesick and doesn't seem to want to do anything. This morning we toured and cleaned the clinic. The other group has yet to really speak to us. We segregate in all situations. We went to a kinder and then to Jen's school (Morning Star Bilingual) again. The other group, who knows Jen, calls her "Hen" as if they're pronouncing her name in Spanish. Kelsey and I find this to be extraordinarily annoying since no one here calls her Hen and even if they were to pronounce her name in Spanish, it wouldn't be Hen (yes, I realize that this may not be worthy of ranting about, but I've been thinking about it a lot today). We then came back for lunch and began to paint Daisy's house. We mudded the inside of the house, which was filled with holes. We painted the outside of the house green. I wish we could paint American houses bright colors. I think it would make us happier. This group likes to take breaks. They left freezing temperatures in Maine, so I guess they're probably pretty hot. I actually feel cooler today than I have any other day. Kelsey took advantage of these breaks and never came back. I took this time to bond with the other group, and I think I was moderately successful. Despite this, I still wish I was at home.

We went back to Pastor Gladys's "iglesia de distraction." Mr. Ray preached on the story of Legion and how the church is demonized by fear of "going too far" for Christ. I liked it. After the service we prayed over the church for quite a while. I'm still not sure what praying over really means, but I certainly don't mind praying for someone or being prayed for. After this, I think Kelsey and I hit our breaking point and things really turned around for us.

We went to a hotel in Sula to get drinks and the power went out. Jazmin, Kelsey, & I laughed the entire time. BTW: Jazmin was our translator last week & you'll hear more about her later. When we got back to the farm we filled food bags (more maseca!) and truly had a blast discussing Southern culture. Jim calls Kelsey & I "Nashville" all the time. I'm content for doay. Kelseay and I have developed a countdown to keep us sane. Only 2 more workdays until there's 3 more workdays.

I've reached the halfway point!

-Namaste-

Daisy's painted house

Day 6: I Hate Honduras

After writhing in pain all night I threw up more than enough this morning. I thought it may be the food we ate at Maria's house, but everyone else felt fine. I felt so miserable and the fact that I wasn't going home made it worse. However, this also meant I was forced to ride in the truck with Paul all the way to Guamalito's (a tourist store near the airport in San Pedro Sula). Mrs. Pat rode with us too. She talked for the duration of our 2 hour ride. Once we got there I tried to help panic-attack-Paul try to find gifts for his family. I bought a poncho, which filled me with excitement. Hopefully I can wear it on the way home since the thought of wearing it here in the million degree weather makes me want to have a heat stroke. We left Guamalito's for the airport. Then it started. From the moment we walked into the airport I just wanted to leave. More than anything else in the world I wanted to board the plane with my friends and go home to my family, my friends, and my bed. I told my mom I'd call her when I got the airport, but I knew it would only make my homesickness worse. It was all I could do to let the rest of my group leave me here. We sat waiting for the other group, who came three hours later. That three hours seemed like an eternity. Then they arrived.

Strangers present an interesting dilema, particularly after spending a week in a third world country with some of your best friends. Jim, Mrs. Pat's nephew & Maine youth minister, was first (and only) to talk to me. They still haven't talked to me. Each person in the youth group looks eerily like someone that I know, which may be God's strange way of reminding me that I can find friends anywhere. I hope so. They are from Friendship, Maine, which had more than a foot of snow when they left. They're van broke down on the side of the road and they had to push all their bags through the snow. That's all I know about them. I want to go home.
-Namaste-

Lessons Learned from Week 1

1) Don't just do, be

It doesn't matter how much community service you do. It doesn't matter how many people you help. No amount of service matters until you become a service. The same goes with Christianity. It doesn't matter how many Christian things you do until you become a Christian. By "become a Christian" I mean that your life, both internally and externally, belongs to Christ and his work.

2) The world is not an art exhibit

So often we see people on TV or we drive past a homeless person and think, "Wow, that's sad" or worse, "Don't make eye contact...they'll only use money on drugs....this is just like The Hitchhiker." We don't see people. We don't see that they are humans who live just as we do, fighting to survive despite the trials of the world. We only see a small part of them. We go on with our lives without realizing that they too live their lives in a far different condition than we do. Even when we "help" them, sometimes we don't really see them. We demand our picture be taken with a random child, but we don't know their name. We don't know their story. We don't understand their living conditions. We don't feel their pain. We don't know if they have a relationship with God. We have to create personal relationships with people in order to truly give them what they need. Love. Sometimes that just means a minute of your time. But that minute could change the lives of those you speak to, as well as yourself.

3) Poverty is relative

Americans often say that we need to help the poor, backward people of Africa. We need to help the impoverished nations so that they can be happy. What if they don't need help being happy? Who are we to decide what determines happiness? Being in Honduras, somewhere I have originally considered to be in great need, I discovered more genuinely happy people in passing than I have ever known in America. In our high-tech world all we concentrate on is the latest, biggest, and best thing. In Honduras, they see what is around them and they strive to make the best of what they have. If they do that, they are successful. All they know is a mud hut, a dirt road, and a one-room school. That's where they live. That's where their friends and family members live. They are happy. No, I don't think we should stop providing them with things they struggle to get, like food, medication, and clothing. But I do think that we need to be careful when we say that they need us. God provides needs. He has supplied the needs of the people of Honduras, as well as the citizens of other "needy" nations. Perhaps we just need to reevaluate our definition of "needs."

4) Poverty may be the greatest thing to happen to the church

Poverty has a positive impact on the church for both the person in poverty and those of us living far above the poverty line (which is around $1.50 a day). For those over the poverty line, we are being called to a great misssion to minister to the poor. We have a responsibility, an obligation, a debt to pay, to those of our Christian family who struggle spiritually, physically, and financially. We can go across the street or across the globe to fulfill this mission.
For those under the poverty line, this is the greatest place to meet our Savior. Those whom I have met that are most dedicated to God and who are most assured of his existence and promise are those living in far less luxurious accomodations. The bible tells us that it is easier for a camel to get through an eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to get into heaven. If there is one thing that is easier below the poverty line, it is your spiritual walk. The people that I've met are not preoccupied with their possessions or the constant fight to move up the ladder. They are focused on the spiritual, the eternal, and what is truly important. I think their mansions in heaven will be especially beautiful.

Day 5: Drunkards & Sunday School

This morning we did Sunday school at the Azacualpa Children's Home, which also transports a busload of hungry children in on a regular basis. Considering the state of most Honduran orphanages, this one is exceptional. It is run by a local couple that takes great care of the children. Most of the kids are not actually orphans, but rather, their parents cannot take care of them for the time being and they are not old enough to work. Almost the second we finished preparing our supplies the bus arrived and kids came filing out for what seemed like forever. My personal favorite was Alex. He didn't have shoes or nice clothing, but he did have plenty of money for the offering. Everything we did went smoothly, despite the fact that we forgot the puppets. We all quickly learned "Jesus Loves Me" in Spanish ("Cristo Me Ama") and felt very accomplished. The crafts (multicolor crosses w/ a heart that said "Cristo Me Ama") turned out even better than accepted and the stuffed animals were received with utmost excitement and appreciation. We said our bittersweet goodbyes and left to shop in La Flecha. We went to a store owned by two women that was filled with "authentic" merchandise that was fit for a tourist. I'm still kind of curious about why there is a tourist attraction in the middle of rural Santa Barbara, but I liked it being there. We then went to Cafe Ray's for enchiladas, which I wasn't really all that fond of. However, the tamalitos were exceptional. They tasted like cornbread, which reminded me of home, so I think that's why I liked them so much. On the way home, around 1 in the afternoon, we walked over some hanging bridges and saw a drunk man staggering through the streets (this will be important later).

We ate dinner at Maria's house. Maria is the true founder of Cristo Salva. She bought the land and shared her idea with Mr. Ray, and Cristo Salva was born. She invited us into her beautiful home and provided us with a feast. While we were eating I was carrying on a conversation, as usual, but everyone suddenly stopped talking, except me, who continued in my conversation. Sebastian, who had sworn to be my protector on this trip, started kicking me under the table, but I wasn't sure why. He slipped a butter knife off his plate and into his lap. All of a sudden I hear a man right behind me, demanding food. You guessed it. It was the drunk man from earlier this afternoon who had wandered onto Maria's patio. He demanded food for a while, but when we brought him a plate he then decided that he only wanted tamales, which we didn't have. Needless to say, he was not very pleased. He finally decided he was satisfied with his tamale-less plate of food and went on his way. I still don't know what Sebas thought he was going to do to the man with a butter knife.

We then went to the Las Varas church for our final evening together. We came home and began packing up. I wish I was going home tomorrow too.
-Namaste-

Alex at the Azacualpo Children's Home

Day 4: True Life-Honduras

Today was hard. We got up this morning to go to the Mayan Ruins, which I'm sure are very impressive to architects everywhere, but not to me. These are in La Entrada and they're not very popular, not very big, and really hot. But I had fun hanging out. On the way back to the city we went to the Laurels. I hate the Laurels. I love the people of the Laurels and I love serving them, but I hate the Laurels. The Laurels are the worst area we visit on our trip. Approximately 12 "houses" are constructed along the side of highway with scrap metal and anything else the families can find. They have nothing. Living conditions are dangerous, unsanitary, and the image of an endless cycle. It was all I could do not to have a break down when we handed out supplies and even harder to maintain composure when I climbed back in the truck. I left them. But like I said earlier and Paul said it to me again today, poverty is relative. This life is all they know. I cannot decide whether or not they are happy. They have what they need, but my concept of need is different. I want whatever it is that gives them strength, endurance, and contentment- I hope that it's faith.

My visit to La Entrada was a little better than last year. I just don't find a lot there that isn't for a typical Honduran. It's like a massive street-Walmart, and equally deserving an internet montage to unfortunately dressed people. Like the rest of my American comrades, I spent quite a bit of time in the air-conditioned bakery, but we started to attract every beggar in the area. We gave them what we had, then went on. I did find a cute dress though. We drove back to the farm and got ready for church, which was extraordinarily distracting. Distractions reoccur in Honduran church services. Perhaps the ones in America just aren't distracting enough. After church we went to get milkshakes, which is when Biggs and I entered into an epic battle where I was arguing for the dominance of anything banana flavored. Just to clear the air, anything banana flavored is better than any other flavor. Biggs and I resolved our conflict by watching some shady dealings go down on the street corners.

-Namaste-

The Laurels

Day 3: The Life Changer

Today was by far the best day I've ever had in Honduras and I hoep that even when I'm old and frail I can still remember how I feel today. It started with going to Las Plias. Las Plias is a village in the mountains and my favorite place to go on our trips. We went into a school and kinder (preschool/kindergarten) to hand out bracelets (striped with colors representing different aspects of Christianity, ex: black=sin, white=purity,etc.) and candy. Then came the bubbles. I don't have a clue what everyone else did the whole time, but I blew bubbles for some of the most excited kids I have seen in my 16 years. Blowing, catching, & popping these bubbles put the kids in a rare euphoric state that can be brought on only by bubbles. At the same time, I was kind of sad, because I started to feel like a bubble. I can make someone so happy here, but then just leave, and it will soon become as if I was never there. Yet another struggle of my time there. We then delivered food bags and I attempted to practice my Spanish. Key word = attempted. Then a small group went to Wilmer's house. Wilmer cut his hand on a machete last week and reopened it on barbed wire when we were there today. This exposed a potentially fatal infection that was developing. Untreated infections are a major cause of death in third-world villages. Mrs. Pat brought all of her medical supplies to the house. Sebastian administered the antibiotic injection while I was chasing a little boy around the house. Then we returned to the house for some grilled cheese.

After that we were supposed to sort clothing, but the kids that live on the farm were staring through the screen at us, as they often do. There are four kids. Lilian is 8, Darlin is 5, Freddy is 3, and Carolina is around 1. We met them last year with their parents Daisy and Gregario when they lived in one-room mud hut that had one mattress and nothing else. They are now the caretakers of the farm. I couldn't resist playing with them and avoiding my least favorite activity (folding clothes), so I ran outside. I chased Darlin around the building 5011 times, but I never got tired; I never got out of breath. Then I just sat on a rock with Freddy & Darlin in my lap as Lilian led Cara & Lauren in their die-hard pursuit of la cucecha ( a guineau). I think we sat there together for an hour, playing games & making animal noises. Raul, a man who works on the farm, came by and discretely handed Freddy 3 ears of corn, which could be used as guinea bait. I'm pretty sure he's the only father-figure I've seen in Honduras and this act seemed particularly impressive to me. The kids' actual father, Gregario, was also great with them, which was yet another surprise. The corn did attract a few guineaus, but the girls only managed to catch a few feathers. We walked back up to the building and continued to play with the kids until dinner and then returned after dinner. After dinner Daisy, their mother, returned from Macuelizo, so Darlin & Lilian returned home, but Freddy was fascinated by Sebastian & Brian, who were attempting to open a coconut. They finally opened the coconut and drank all the milk, which I didn't think was half-bad. We gave the shell to Freddy, who proceeded to rip it open and take advantage of every drop of remaining coconut.

We then went to Adelaida's church, which was the most comfortable I've ever been at a Honduran service, though the lights were out and it sounded like someone was being murdered outside (thankfully, no one was). I came back to the farm for some delicious peach cobbler (strange considering that I hate peach cobbler). After the thrid cold shower of the week (cold by choice) I stood outside the chapel with Sebastian and Biggs as we serenaded whoever walked by. Sebastian used his guitar, and my instrument of choice was a cup of beans. I really feel like I'm here now.

-Namaste-

Lilian, Darlin, & Freddy with Lauren, Cara, & me



Day 2: Prayer & Maseca

If I described myself as a sweaty beast yesterday, then there are simply no words to describe me today and the 11 days to come. after overcoming an epic migraine I slept until 5:45 when I was awoken by an unfortunate sounding dog. Luckily this was the disgusting deaf dog (King) and not the evil demon dog (Diablo) who attacked our poor ginger friend Alan last year. We got up to head to a local school across the river, but school was not in session today due to an ongoing nationwide teacher strike. Instead we went to visit Adelaida, who we believe is now 97. Adelaida has worked with Cristo Salva since its conception about 20 years ago. She is well known throughout Macuelizo for her spirituality. She has written books on her various trials from losing her family to floating on a board in her flooded city for 3 days. There is nothing she loves more than prayer. She prayed for us and was inexpressibly grateful for our presence, as always. I got to go inside her house this time and see her home. Though small, it was beautiful, particularly the brick oven, which was the bomb. I also have a new BFF, and by BFF I mean, an older male who likes to stand very close to me and whisper in my ear for long periods of time. His name is Charlie and he's Adelaida's son. We then went to a bilingual school (Morning Star), which made me feel stupid because most of the kids could speak more English and Spanish than I could either. Jen, who moved from Massachusettes to Honduras, works at the school. She has a two year contract as a volunteer and is barely making it financially. We then returned to the farm to pack food bags. I packed Maseca (tortilla flour), which was an epic disaster. It was everywhere. We delivered the food to several families, who gladly welcomed us in. However, a highlight of my trip occured during the break.

The farm is covered with incredibly unfortunate birds, called guineaus. These guineaus sound about as bad as they look, making a sound similar to that of  a rusty swing.

Mr. Ray: (jokingly) Those birds need some WD-40

Brian goes to the cabinet & grabs a bottle of something

Brian: Will this work?

Mr. Ray: (again, obviously joking) Sure!

Brian then proceeded to run outside and chase the guineaus, covering them in termite foam. This was obviously damaging to the guineaus. We may never let Brian live this one down.

We ended the night at Pastor Gladys's church, which is the home church of the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. He very well may be perfect, except for the fact he lives a little far away & doesn't speak much English.

-Namaste-

Morning Star Bilingual School

Honduras: Day 1: The Arrival

Yes, I'm cheating a bit. I've been back frrom Honduras for a while, but I wanted to write about it anyway, so I'm recapping what I wrote in my journals. So, just pretend that I'm there...

I always like to dedicate my trip to someone that has passed, so if they happen to be looking down and see me, they can see the impact that they continue to have. Last year I dedicated my mission to the memory of Micky Bell, my former preacher, servant of God, and minister to the people of Guyana. This year my mission is in honor of George Lance, a fellow believer, friend, and supporter of the worldwide mission for Christ.

Today may have been the longest day of my life. I woke up at 2:45 am to get to the airport at 4:30, only to be delayed until 7:30. Brian, my friend and first-time flyer, was borderline having a panic attack. After a quick flight from Nashville to Atlanta we stepped off the plane and all 15 of us sprinted to our plane, which was boarding about the time we stepped off the first plane. After dealing with some unhappy airline attendants and catching our breath, we sat on the plane for 2 hours dealing with maintanence issues. When we left Nashville it was 40 degrees and when we stepped off the plane in Honduras it was around 103. We grabbed our bags then hit the road for our long drive from San Pedro Sula to Las Varas. When I stepped out of the bus I started sweating and haven't stopped yet. I took a freezing shower, which alleviated by sweatiness for approximately 2.7 minutes. Now it has been about 24 hours since I woke up.

Seeing Honduras again is so surreal. It just doesn't click with me. This is a world that I separate myself from just to look at, but I can't, because it's my world too. So, this week I have 2 primary questions (I'm sure there will be more). 1) Is poverty relative and can people be happy in it? 2) How do you stop looking at people like they're in a museum and start realizing that they're real human beings who fight the same battles I do each day?

-Namaste-

The Cristo Salva Mission Sanctuary (storage, some beds, & showers)

I'm Back...

It's been a while since I've been able to post anything. Life has been a little chaotic. My last post was the night before I left for Honduras for two weeks (more to come on that), then had my prom, Our Town, banquet, AP testing, and much much more. My life has been nonstop. Then it hit me. Something major is missing. The biggest thing of my life is now an afterthought, just something else in my schedule. God. How did the biggest thing in the world gain less attention than a test, a party, or a prom dress? I was approaching this in the totally wrong way. I Peter 5:7 tells us to cast all of our anxieties onto Christ because he cares for us. Rather than pushing God out of the way so we can focus on other less important things, we should put our focus on Christ and know that he will take care of everything else.