Note: The following is a journal entry from my first trip to Honduras in 2007. I wanted to capture an incredible experience I had on the trip with as much detail as possible, so the evening it happened I wrote it out with as much detail as my tired hand and brain could muster. If memory serves, the only people who have heard this entry were my team members the night I wrote it. But I remembered it recently and wanted to share. So here it is, word for word, unedited except for grammar and spelling, just like I wrote it down in a humid hotel room in Puerto Cortez just over four years ago.
(Brian was our contact from the States in Honduras. Olga lived across from a church where we did a BS, met her kids and she sold us the bags initially)
Friday, May 25th 7 pm or so
Today, Brian and I walked from Central Park to Olga’s house to buy the bags she made for us. They were 80 lempira each, but we all pitched in 100 to help her out. It’s a very real way to help someone who really needs it.
The walk was long, and it was a hot Honduran day. We walked on the dirt road and although I had been exposed to the same type of poverty for over a week, it still was hard to accept. My mind struggles to accept why I have so much, and so many have so very little.
We arrived at Olga’s house to find the bags weren’t quite ready. Olga needed to refill her Aguazul jug, so Brian and I along with a few kids went to refill it. I paid for the new water and carried it back because I wanted to pay the cost for these people who matter so much to God.
When we got back we went into the house and although I speak almost no Spanish, I began to talk to the kids in the house. They are Yesinia, Tommy, Henri, Lupe and Gladys. Gladys was touching my leg and her infectious smile led me to do the only thing I thought was appropriate. I picked her up, set her in my lap and wrapped one arm her tiny shoulders. She sat there holding my other hand with her head resting on my chest, and without either of us saying a word we communicated care, peace and love without a common language. Sometimes love speaks louder than English, Spanish or any other language ever could. I think for a minute I felt just a sliver of the love God feels for me, while I was holding a tiny, frail, yet precious Honduran girl.
That was all in the first ten minutes, but we spent the whole morning at Olga’s house. There were only four bags ready when we arrived, and none of them had rope on them yet. Olga showed me how to put them on and I went to work. She is very ungifted in the area of multi-tasking, and was telling Brian about her life and her kids, and he would relay the info to me. The problem was that she would stop working to talk, and we were quickly catching up to her. She would also set down her scissors and then minutes later we would all search for them because she couldn’t find them. Sad but hilarious.
The house was more of a shack than anything. One room for six people, and there was no sense of order inside. There was a T.V playing speeches from the Honduran government, and a fan that didn’t oscillate so we had to choose who got relief from the heat. It was such an eye opening experience to the type of home lifer so many people in this world have.
Olga loves the children. Yesinia is her daughter, but the others are her grandkids. Their mother was shot and I don’t know the details, but now her kids live with their grandma. One of Olga’s sons was shot 5 times as his taxi was robbed, but he lived and moved to New Orleans shortly before Hurricane Katrina.
Yesinia did some dishes and cooked the other kids their rice and beans while Brian helped the younger kids bathe and I kept working.
The kids were funny because they couldn’t find their school clothes. Then instead of talking to Brian and I, Olga talked to the kids but stalled work on the bags. I didn’t mind though because God was working on me. I began to understand that life in that one room, wooden shack was probably about the same every day. I realized how fortunate I am to be able to change my routine, to drive to a movie, to sleep in my own bed, especially when I’m no more deserving then they are.
Olga gave me a picture of the kids so I would remember them. I was touched by her generosity, and the prospect of being able to see the kids whenever I want to.
We left with six out of nine bags, and a promise they would all be done the next day. As we walked back, I thought about the experience. This whole day God has been using it to teach me something. During our walk back, Brian and I walked through a run-down, abandoned house. But it had the potential to be amazing. I started thinking about living in a place like this where I could just help and love people like Olga and her family. Where I could hold kids like Gladys and let them know they are loved. Where I could be the hands and feet of Jesus. As I walked my heart broke for the family and many others like them. Not only because they are poor and in need, but because God allowed me to understand how He loves. I barely know them but I care about them. I wish I could just make their lives better and more comfortable, but I can’t. The only fitting way I can think to end this is to thank God for what He showed me today, and to ask Him to work in their lives. To provide for their needs, to help the kids in school, to keep them safe and to love them like only He can. Maybe one day I’ll see them again. Until then I trust that they are in the hands of God, and His love, mercy and grace for them is in every way, more than enough.
(I signed it at the end, and one year later I went back to see this incredible family and their new, 3 bedroom house. It was amazing to see how God had provided and been faithful to them. Olga couldn’t remember my name but she said she saw my face sometimes in her dreams. She held my face with both hands and said Miguel over and over again. I got to hold Gladys again, and laugh with Lupe. I played soccer with Tommy and Henri and caught up with Yesinia. The pictures are of Gladys and the whole family. Tommy is the bigger boy and Yesinia is the oldest girl. These are my brothers and sisters, and I love them)
On: July 30, 2011
At: Home
Listening to: Bethel Live-Be Lifted High
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