Little victories. Are they just as important as the big ones? Just because it only affects one or maybe two people does that make them less important? We cannot conquer the world. So it is the little victories that I found myself counting.
When I walk down the hill in the mornings to help teach second and sixth grade English I spend half of the morning yelling, “silencio!” and “sientate!” and wonder if the children will even remember the words next week because it seems like not one of them is listening.
Violence seems to underline everything this country stands for. The gangs rule the city and there are so many boys that I have met that have been involved in gang activity at one point or another. Someone kills someone and then someone else gets killed for revenge and it seems like a hopeless down spiral towards death.
The poverty is real here. There is a family that Tony, our ministry host, has been working with for five years now that is as broken as they come. The grandmother lives in a shack where getting just water to drink is difficult. She cannot afford medication and is the only one who is around to care for her grandchildren. Her organs are failing her and if she dies, do her grandchildren have any chance to escape the generational horrors that have plagued their family?
In these situations the little victories that matter so much.
Esau is in second grade and rarely participates in anything. I know he is smart, because he remembers every word in English I ever say to him. When test day came around he folded his arms across his chest and would not pick up his pencil. I told him I knew how smart he was and that he knew every word on the sheet of paper. He picked up his pencil and wrote down five correct answers and then misspelled one word and scribbled over the whole thing and threw it on the ground. I got out another sheet of paper and placed it in front of him. He wrote down half of the test and then threw it on the ground. I got out one more sheet of paper and broke it down question by question. Ten minutes later he handed me his completed test. He scored 100%.
Mario is fourteen years old and doesn’t go to school. He lives with his dad who he rarely sees. When we arrived in Honduras, Mario had a bad reputation on the streets here. He hung out on the property we are staying on sometimes. Within twenty four hours of our arrival, there was a noticeable difference in him. He expressed interest in English lessons and has been spending time with my teammate, Helena, everyday learning English. He know comes and gives us all giant hugs every morning and last week asked Tony if he could start school again. Today, at the age of fourteen, Mario had his first day of school. He is in first grade.
The bedridden grandmother has two grandsons, Carlos and Fernando, who live full time at Zion’s Gate now with Tony. They attend school and have jobs on the property. They may be a little rough around the edges but they have overcome so much just to be here. Fernando started a cookie business and bakes us all delicious cookies once a week and sells them for 10 Lempiras (50 cents) each. There is so much hope in their precious faces. They have a chance to be different.
Thank you Jesus for the little victories that bring so much hope!
