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.