My Selfishness in Honduras

It has been a while since I have blogged due to traveling. When I got back from a mission trip to Honduras, I felt I needed to pray through the thoughts, images and sounds that I have been exposed to before sharing. There were three teams from our church this summer that served an orphanage and a community of homeless families in Honduras. I will confess that international focus is not my greatest passion but I stood up in church months ago during a Radical series and committed to go wherever God wanted me to go. My entire family was going so my focus started out with the intent to make memories serving as a family. I knew what our team's focus was but my heart just didn't comprehend the people I would encounter. As our time for departure arrived, I began to stress a little over being away from home, my routines and the demands for nine days. A lot could be done here at home in a nine day period.

You may be tired of hearing about Honduras or you may be tired of seeing countless pictures on Facebook, but I have decided I have a responsibility. I believe God calls us places so our eyes can see and our ears can hear to share. There is no way that all of us can go everywhere but we can share stories. The pictures of Honduras I saw from the other groups before I left, painted a bit of a picture of what I would be exposed to but there is no way that a picture can share the things I felt. My selfishness was evident the minute we got there. I was worried about the conditions we would be in, my families' health, the things we would eat and even the fact that you can't flush your toilet paper. What an inconvenience. Those things eventually became a lesser issue when I saw a greater need. I will tell you there were moments that I thought time was dragging and I wasn't feeling all spiritual.

Then it hit me! The sweating didn't matter. The food didn't matter. The bugs and my melting toenail polish were of no concern. I began to watch and listen with different ears and eyes. These kids hugged all over my sweaty body. Who was I to worry about hugging them? There were children who had been sold into prostitution at a young age or dropped in a well by a mother who didn't want them. Yet.....they smiled, appreciated and had such joy that I was jealous. I found myself becoming friends with children I could hardly communicate with. It wasn't because I felt sorry for them. It was because they were being Jesus to us while we were supposed to be the hands and feet of Christ to them. One of the first nights, we were eating chicken at the orphanage. It was so interesting as I realized I wasn't even that hungry. My little buddy Ismael--who is now sponsored and love by The Barron's--was sitting beside me cleaning his plate. I asked him if he wanted my chicken and I teared up at the response I got from his eyes. He ate every bit. There were teenage girls and women that I felt a connection to. We laughed together as we struggled to speak to one another. A single mom sacrificing for her kids at home and a young, newly married girl can communicate way beyond their language.

As the week went on, I found myself working harder and harder to make things the best we could before we left. As an American I assumed these kids would have a better life in America. I do believe they would get lots of love here, but they have a simple life that I long for. They interact, laugh, play together, sit and talk, eat together, work together and rely on one another regardless of backgrounds or status. Nobody cares about what time it is and people don't seem to rush their life away. They live with gratitude for the smallest of things. They are so open to love others even though they have every reason not to trust people. They live as if they have a hope and a future. Do we live that way?

The last night was one we all dreaded as we were the final team to say goodbye. I didn't want those kids to see us crying. I wanted them to remain hopeful and joyful. Then there was Pepe. The twelve year old boy I would have packed in my suitcase in a heartbeat if Honduras would allow for adoption. He came up to Ridley and me and said "thank you" in English. I asked him, "What for, Pepe?" He said, "Everything". He wrapped his arms around Ridley and began to cry. I felt like we hadn't done enough for him and I told him we would be back. He replied, "Promise?". He didn't want the latest Ipod or gadget. He didn't long for a big fancy house or car. Pepe wanted someone to come back and love on him.

There hasn't been a day that I haven't thought about those friends. I sat in church yesterday tearing up as I wondered if they were believing that God loves them. I have thought about them as I walk into my air conditioned home after being in the heat. I have thought about them as I have ordered off a menu. I have thought about them as we weed out our clothes for school that don't fit. I have thought about them at times as I hear myself complaining.

As I battle eye infections and infection in my lungs, I am grateful for every tarantula, for every piece of nasty laundry, for every cut from painting around barbed wire and for aches and pains. I am most grateful for the heartache I have. A heart burdened to die to my ways and my selfishness so I don't miss the incredible things that God wants to show me and use to change me.