Three days ago a little face appeared behind my 10 foot front gate. His small voice yelled 'Naomi!' and I ran out to greet him. I unlocked the gate welcoming him in and he motioned to his mother running not far behind.
We sat on my front steps and I desperately tried to understand what she was saying. Between her humble, toothless smiles I finally understood. Her home had no water or electricity and she was telling me they were out of food. All I could do was sit there occasionally glancing at the fragile, little frame of the boy sitting next to me. My mind flashed back to my pitiful bank account and my empty cabinets. I could do nothing more than offer her the money in my pocket.
That night, as my friends and I ate dinner, another little face appeared through a window and asked for our scraps. A little girl came into the small chicken place, scraped our leftovers into a plastic bag and said thank you. She couldn't have been more than 7. I felt like crying.
Today, as I sat staring into space I noticed the barbed wire ominously stretched around the perimeter of our home. It made me think. This is a common sight in Honduras. With poverty and crime the norm everyone is concerned with self preservation. This wire represents safety for the people inside but what about the innocent people trapped outside?
As I sit here protected by my barbed wire fence I almost feel smothered. I'm not here with a big organization. It's just me. And as the reality of life in Honduras sinks in all I can do is pray, knowing that God's pockets are bigger than mine.
If you would like to make a difference please let me know. In Honduras a little goes a long way.
