Quick and Candid

I just want to take a quick minute and write about what’s been floating around in my head for the past couple of months.  I’ve been writing my blog and sharing what weighs heavy on my heart but there is a part I’ve been leaving out.  The whole point of my blog was to share what being a missionary is really about.  Is it really all about excitement and the miraculous?  What happens in between?

Well, after five months of being a missionary in a country that is plummeting faster than I can report, I’m here to tell you there is a lot of “in between.”  And since this is a quick and candid entry I will feel free to ignore run on sentences and bad punctuation. (Oh my college professors would be cringing.)

OK.  So most of the missionaries I’ve met in my life have been complete families.  They go out onto the mission field and do amazing things.  But what about the single ones??  I just want to say that being on your own in a dangerous place is something completely different.  I only recently realized that no one here has my emergency contact info.  Um…  Really!  And when the city you live in goes into lock down what does a single person do?  Well, I now know each and every crack on my ceiling…  Oh and the best is when you look at your account balance and it says -$100,000,000 (Ok so I’m exaggerating a little) and then you meet a child who desperately needs antibiotics.  Or two little friends at your door that need food.  Or an elderly father of 2 that tells you he needs an $80 treatment or he will die.  What happens then??? 

When I ask for help I think my favorite responses are when well-meaning people tell me what I should do to raise money (like it should be common sense.)  The ideas are great but do they realize I’m not good at EVERYTHING?  Web design and mass marketing were not my best subjects…

And what about the Catholic missionaries?  I recently had the opportunity to see what kind of accommodations they had here in Honduras.  My reaction was “Wow! You can drink the water?” and “You can flush toilet paper?” and “You have residency status already?!” 

Alright, ending what should have been a short rant … I’ve also ran across a few blogs of missionaries who freely write what they think.  Whether offensive or not, they take free liberty in expressing their feelings.  I can barely get through their blogs without thinking they must be fully funded.  Because really??  If I said that sending your troubled teenager to a 3^rd world country was only doing your child good I would lose funding! (oops I probably just did)  But really, in truth, to make a difference in the lives here we need continuous support.  Handing people a bag of rice and beans only makes their week a little better.

Well thanks for listening (if you made it this far.)  I promise to give a more candid report from now on - like it or not :)

 

Muerto

I don't really even know how to begin this blog entry.  Actually, I didn't even want to write it.  But I know this story needs to be shared.

El esta muerto... he is dead.  These are words I've heard this week more times than I can count.  The prison tragedy here has tore through so many lives. Through so many families.  If you don't know what I'm talking about please click on this link.  http://www.reuters.com/article/2012/02/15/us-honduras-jail-fire-idUSTRE81E0OK20120215

This week the mob of families outside the jail in Comayagua, Honduras grew larger by the day.  One morning I saw the army loading into trucks for crowd control.  The people were so desperate to find out if their loved ones were dead that they were pushing their way into the jail.  The cops responded by shooting into the air and throwing tear gas. 

30 of our church members and a nanny at the orphanage lost family members in this tragedy. Diana who is only 18, lost her older brother.  Her family is in Tegucigalpa (the capital of Honduras and 2 hours away) now trying to reclaim the body.  But the process is hard because the bodies are so damaged.  The stories of how these people have to sort through burned corpses is nauseating.  And while Diana’s family is trying to find their son, she is at home preparing their home for the funeral.

This is the situation with a lot of families.  In most cases, mothers and fathers have no choice but to leave their young children at home while they travel to the capital.  Some of these kids are left with no food or money.  The families have no choice.

Yesterday, I joined a group giving food to some of these families.  Each home had a room dedicated to their dead brother or father.  All I kept asking God was "How much more can these people take?!"

One of the homes we visited was that of Diana.  Her parents had been gone for a week searching for the body of their son.  They weren't sure if he was dead but they couldn't sit and wait.  Diana was brave enough to go to the prison and ask again if her brother was alive or dead.

We stood outside the prison gates, joining the line that wrapped around the highway.  Finally a man came over with a list.  We waited anxiously as his finger scanned the 100's of names of deceased prisoners. Page after page we held our breath hoping his finger wouldn't stop.  But it did.  And as he looked up and factually stated "El esta muerto." My heart broke.  Diana's eyes filled and she stood there.  Hope gone, the finality of his statement sinking in.

We need your help.  Please donate through this blog. Your pocket change can feed a family.  $6 will feed a family for 3 or 4 days.  Help me buy food for these families.  Help me relieve a little of their stress so they can mourn their loved ones.

Would you like a tortilla with that?

I have to begin by apologizing. I know it's been a long time since my last post. And for those who have asked for more, you'll be happy to know this is a New Years resolution.

I went home for the holidays and everyone kept asking the same question.  How do I like living in Honduras?  My response came easy.  I LOVE living in Honduras!  But when I tried to explain why I didn't have a good answer.

What was it that made me love living here?  The country is dangerous, impoverished and I have to say, a little boring... So what was it that made me fall in love??

Well, today was a good example of why Honduras has captured my heart.  Although there aren't any museums or salsa clubs each day is a new experience.  Today was just one of many great examples of what makes Honduras so unique.

The kids summer break is nearing an end and we decided to break out of the orphanage and take a walk.  Our group consisted of 11 9-13 yr olds, 2 nannies and me.  It was meant to be an easy, leasurley walk down the quiet road that winds through town. 

We set out on our journey and the kids entertained themselves by finding hidden wildlife along the roadside.  On our route we saw small fish in a river bed and a baby owl perched on a tree.  What we also found was a giant hornets nest.  I don't know what it is about dangerous looking objects but they attract little boys.  Before I knew it they were throwing sticks and rocks high into the tree branches trying to hit it.  After a few minutes of me yelling "STOP!!" they moved on.  Phew.  Tragedy averted!  Or so I thought...

20 minutes later we were making our way back to the orphanage.  As we walked the road was full of cheerful yelling, laughing and complaining.  This might be why it took me so long to notice the sounds of objects hitting tree branches.  Before I could even get a word out of my mouth I heard a CRACK!  All of a sudden every single child started running and screaming!  "No way!" was all I could think until I turned and saw a GIANT black cloud of hornets pouring out of a nest high above our heads! 

It only took that one look and I was racing down the road behind all of the screaming kids.  Some were swatting at their clothing, others were screaming and crying as they tried to shake the swarms of wasps out of their hair.  I remember thinking 2 things at that point 1) oh Lord help us and 2) thank God we are going down hill. 

After a quarter mile of screaming, running and swatting we were finally rid of them.  And even though most of the kids had big, stinging bites they started LAUGHING!!!  Really?!  Yes. Laughing!  Some how this was not a horrible experience but a great adventure.  One of the biggest highlights of this 'adventure' was seeing their teacher (me) running so fast.  And I have to admit, after my heart stopped racing I started laughing too!

Was there a good lesson learned here?  I don't think so.  But the kids will be talking about this forever.

This is just a normal day for me in Honduras.  And I promise to share many more :)

Silent Killer

Honduras has the highest murder rate in Central America. This is what I´ve been reading in the news but haven´t understood until now. 

When I think of violence I think of my neighborhood in Chicago where gun fire is a common sound at night. I think of dark cars creeping down a street or suspicious figures standing on a corner.  When I think of violence I think of how my own home was exposed to 10 rounds of ammunition...  I think of violence ending in police cars and flashing lights.

Here in Honduras the only sounds at night are roosters crowing and dogs barking.  The only cars creeping past are the occasional taxis navigating the unpaved road.  I have never seen a corner roped off by police tape or squad cars flying by.  So where is all of this violence??

Violence here is a silent killer.  Its not announced by screaming sirens or crowds of bystanders.  Violence here happens quietly.  The only way you would know it exists is if you know the people it affects. And it affects EVERYONE. 

The more I get to know my friends the more I am horrified at the atrocities they have faced.  Every one of them has a horrific story of how a loved one was murdered.  Some have stories of whole families being massacred!  None of these were gang or drug related.  Some were solely over arguments and others over money.  Young children have been killed over nothing!

I am still trying to digest all of this.  But I don´t think its possible.  When my friends share their heart and hardships it almost seems unreal.  Is this really the country I´m living in? Did these things really happen to my wonderful friends?? Now when I sit and listen to the silence I know there is an evil at work all around me.  The silence is no longer peaceful. 

Poverty and neglect brought me here.  Now I realize there is much more... I don´t own a gun and the only physical weapon I have is pepper spray.  But I know I have a greater defense.  Please pray for Honduras!

Anchored

So it has been a while since my last post...  There are a lot of reasons for this (one being my computer is on its last leg)  but it is definitley not for a lack of content!  Totally the opposite actually.  Every day here is a new experience.  Some, no most of them are wonderful experiences and I feel blessed beyond words.  Others just stretch my faith.  But during every experience I have this anchor.  This anchor cheers me up when I'm sad and encourages me when my pace slows.  This wonderful anchor reminds me why I'm here and why I can't leave.  It inspires me to think outside of the box and continues to challenge me.  I wanted to show you what anchors me.  What keeps me here.  What keeps me passionate and determined to fight. 

Its the children.



Sweet, inquisitive Moises followed me around for hours asking me to take pictures.  When I told him this  would be his last picture this was his smile.



I was having lunch one day with 3 very entertaining young boys.  I excused myself to get a glass of water and returned to an empty table! Wonder where they went??



Little Nohelia.  This is her pouting face.  She only does it by request now that she knows it makes me laugh.

hahaha ;)



We took the 3,4 and 5 year olds on a walk through town.  On our way an elderly woman was blessed to tears by the kindess of the children. 

Anchored.









    



The Devil's Rope

Today I sat in my new home trying to figure out what was wrong.  It had been three days since a visit from my little friend and I still hadn't been able to shake its effect. 

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.

La Cucaracha

A new post already you ask?  Yes!  I have experienced so much in the past 4 days I could write a book! But don't worry I won't.  I'm going to try to summarize.  Let me just begin by saying that I thank God for my friends here.  If it weren't for them... well I don't even want to think about it.  BECAUSE of them I have assimilated much faster than I would have on my own... about 1,000 times faster!! Ok so the summary.

If I were a realtor in Honduras this is how I would NOT sell our house:

Big 4 bedroom 3 bathroom home in the heart of Comayagua! Features include:

 - running water for only 5 hours in the middle of the day (when no one is home)
 - large cockroaches (which can only be killed by 50lb suitcases)
 - termites which are eating the closets and pooing all over the shelves (who knew they did that?)
 - ants everywhere including the walls and bed (some even give nasty bites and take a swim in the drinking water)

What am I still doing here you ask?  Adjusting very quickly!  I've even begun planning my 1st cockroach
kill.  It involves a baseball bat and a shovel...  I confronted one last night with my gym shoe but he wasn't fazed and got away.

Anyway, I've titled this post La Cucaracha in honor of my friend and new roommate Diana.  God bless her for listening to me talk about La Cucaracha day and night! Well Diana, if you are reading this I am a new person.  Watch out giant roaches here I come!  (I still scream a little but I'm working on it)

Tomorrow I begin my work at the orphanage.  I am so excited to see their little faces!  It makes EVERYTHING worth it.

Here are a few pics just in case you're curious.  And if you were hoping for a picture of my arch nemesis, La Cucaracha,  sorry I'm not THAT brave yet :)

My arrival!  What a welcoming sight!!

This is a Pila.  It's found in almost every Honduran home.  It is filled with water and used to wash, shower and flush toilets when the city water gets shut off! 

A beautiful tree in our front yard.  (I'm not sure of the name of it yet.)

And finally my closet shelves.  The termites eat faster than I thought.  Another few days and I will have to reorganize!