Using almost all of my strength to open the sliding door, my eyes are blinded by the light pouring in. I cautiously check to see if the usual drunkard is sitting across the street, blowing kisses and smiling at me. Sometimes multiple men are sitting across the street. Roaming around drunk or sewing. Yes, I said sewing. We are all somewhat confused by this house. But no one is there. I then look up and down the street to make sure it’s safe to step outside. No wandering drunk men. I am almost puzzled by this because there is always one in sight.
It’s a sad truth here in Urraco. The streets are littered with drunk men. Every time we step foot out of this church we have to be on guard. We can’t go anywhere without getting cat called or drunk men coming up to us.
One evening, I was sitting by two little friends. Jennifer and her little sister. We were sitting outside of a tienda waiting on a couple of friends who were inside buying some sort of snack. Having to constantly be aware of my surroundings, I look around to make sure everything is okay. Across the street, I quickly recognize one of the men we’ve had multiple interactions with. With his long and slicked back hair, you can spot him coming a mile away. While watching him, I was also listening to sweet little Jennifer tell me about her school day. I think to myself, “Maybe he won’t see us. Maybe he won’t come over here. Please. Please don’t come over here.” He has yet another bottle of liquor in his hand and shoves it in his pocket. While he stumbles in our direction, the sweet conversation between Jennifer and I stop. In that moment, I just wish I could of snapped my fingers to make him disappear. Not necessarily for my sake, but for the two little girls who were watching. He came over and stood in front of us. After staring for awhile, he muttered some things that were uncomfortable and then stumbled in a different direction. In this moment I wasn’t afraid or worried something was going to happen to me. Maybe that means I’ve just gotten used to it. But I do know that I hate that these kids deal with it. I wish I could keep them from seeing it. I wish I could protect them from it.
As much as I want to protect them from it, I know I can’t. These little rays of sunshine who look at me with their big brown eyes and ask me to play soccer with them. These bundles of energy who ride their bikes beside us at night while we walk from the futbol fields to the Iglesia. They always come knocking on our door, wanting to play.
One little boy, named Daniel, has truly touched my heart this month. He is fourteen and has a four year old sister. I spent a whole day watching him interact with her. It made me think of my brothers. It made me think of my family. When Daniel would kick around the soccer ball with his friends, sometimes she would get in the way. He would speak patiently with her and then would scoot her in my direction, knowing I would look after her. He was always gentle and kind. Protecting her. Giving her money to buy a snack. Even giving her his own snack. Now, that’s a good older brother. Every time I look at him, he never ceases to be smiling at me. I don’t know what life is like at home for Daniel, but whatever path he is on, it seems to be a good one. I pray it stays that way.
Between our rocky start at the beginning of the month and being viewed as an object everywhere we go, it was hard to believe a silver lining existed. But, I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it in Daniel. I´ve seen it in all of the kids here. I’ve seen the hope that still exists in this corrupt world.
In the picture above, Daniel is on my right and Aaron is on my left 🙂
Thank you for reading and please continue praying for my team as we finish our time here in Honduras.
