I don’t know how to start the blog about Honduras. I’ve been trying to write an open letter to Urraco Pueblo since the end of January.
As you can tell, I am on my fourth country and finally posting my letter to my first country.. yikes
Every time I opened my laptop, no words came out that felt adequate enough to describe my love for those people and that place. My perfectionism has given me the perfect out for not processing and explaining my gratitude for Urraco, because I was convinced that nothing I said would give enough credit to the people who are now family.
The first week passed by, and we did what we expected we would on the Race – evangelize. We started by going to houses of the people in the church to chat, which always turned into them feeding us coffee, pepsi and snacks. It’s an absolute wonder that we didn’t gain more weight there. We continued through our weeks doing a kids feeding program on Wednesdays, having church 3 times a week (which meant singing in Spanish unexpectedly and giving testimonies AND doing a fun drama every service), and helping out a local pastor with his church service as well. We got to go to a beautiful river and watch the baptisms of 4 people in the church we had come to know and love. On the personal end, bucket showers were transformed into a real shower by hooking up a PVC pipe to the bin that we used to collect rain water, baleadas were our staple meal (thank God for baleadas, seriously) and we ate every single dinner with Pastor & his family. We took a lot of walks to our local tienda (store) and bought more pepsi & Ranchitas than anyone should in a three week period. Every day, our neighbor (Norma) who ran a store gave us suckers or jello treats when we would pass by. We were so loved by our community.
I feel like it is so hard to fully emcompass the powerful community they brought us into. They made us feel so incredibly welcomed and loved in such a short time, and if I’m being honest, I didn’t believe in that very strongly when I got there.
I wrote a poem about Urraco the morning that we were leaving, as our bus drove us away, and I refused to share it with anyone until this last week in Costa Rica. We had a story telling night and I felt the nudge from God to share, not because I’m an amazing poet but because my words matter. The enemy has tried to keep that side of me silent for so long under the pretense that my words might be meaningful to me, but other people don’t want to hear all the random ramblings or things that I write.
I know that isn’t true, so I’m sharing the poem here today because there’s not a lot I can say to describe just how deeply I love Urraco and my people there, or how much gratitude I have for what they taught me.
Bus
I want to set my eyes on the very last stretch of road
Trash scattering the sides, horses and motos and dogs lining the streets
Passing a green sea of palmas
I breathe deeply
I was always meant to step foot here
I watch the mountains
Distant and cloudy and wrapped in ribbons of soft pastel
Morning has made her claim on this side of the world once again
The swirling dust is a constant here
It gets inside of everything and clings tightly
A little like Honduras does, a little like Urraco does
The flow of Spanish music from the radio melts into my heart and feels familiar now
Ripped and worn bus seats press against my knees & remind me that we are driving away, but I am not leaving
The sun is up
It is glowing, and glowing and glowing
And so am I
So, Honduras – thank you for giving me Urraco Pueblo. And Urraco, thank you for giving me Pastor Rony & Pastora & Roes. Thank you for giving me the friends and family I made. Thank you for the church family I gained and the community I can now say I believe in.
I thank God for knowing what I need more than I do, because He knew where to send me and who to send me to.
Urraco & my people – you have my heart forever
