Honduras: Part 1 (With Photos)

My month in Honduras had two completely different stories. Our first two weeks were spent in the small town of Gracias located at the bottom of the highest mountains in the country. Each day, my team and I would hop in the back of a truck (your typical WR transportation) and drive 2 hours up into the remote mountains. The truck bed wasn’t exactly comfortable, nor ideal for car sickness, but it was prime for observing the breathtaking mountain ranges and cliffs covered with coffee, corn, and plantain fields and livestock like horses, cows, and bulls. It’s hard to find the words to describe the true beauty and wonder. There were times when it literally felt like we were in a Lord of the Rings movie. 

A pastor named Trini asked our contact through Ascend International Ministries to help him start up a new church in his small village of San Pedrito, and also start a weekly Bible study in the village of Santa Cruise, nearby. We met up with Pastor Trini each morning, broke up into two groups, and covered the village one adobe home at a time. At almost every house we came across, we were instantly invited to come sit and talk. This was a culture shock to me, especially since we were some of the first white people they had ever met.

We learned about their lives, how they grew their crops and made tortillas from the bare minimum. We learned about their challenges and hardships, living in an area where work and medical care are scarce to none. If there were children in the home, we would also ask them to read a short passage of scripture. We would end each visit sharing with them about the new church service and praying for the families.

There were so many touching moments connecting with the gentle Honduran people during those two weeks. There’s one morning in particular that sticks out in my mind. My group had wandered our way to a home on the top of a hill, with an incredible view of the mountain range, like most of these houses do. We said “Hola” and introduced ourselves and one of the women went inside and came out with enough chairs for all of us to sit on. As we were talking, the kids who lived in the house came running up. However, there was one boy who was lagging behind. When he reached the porch, we noticed he was limping and had a crippled arm. We asked his mother about his condition and if he was in pain. He said yes, then removed his hat and showed us the spot on his head where a tumor had been removed about a year earlier.

It was a hard sight to see. His brain pulsing against the skin where the part of his skull had been removed. Lezman was 10 years old and had such an innocent, warmhearted presence. All he desired was to be able to play soccer with the other kids and to go to school. (A little different than what the average American 10 year old wishes for.) We asked if we could lay hands on him and prayed for healing. This was my first time praying for healing over someone so I wasn’t really sure what to expect. There was no denying the presence of the Holy Spirit was there. Even though nothing happened in that moment, I continue to pray for him and trust that God will bless his life.

From there, we hiked another 10 minutes until we reached another distant house on a mountain peak. The women in the small house had seen us coming so by the time we got to the front door we were already invited inside. We walked into a home packed full with generations of the family. The women and young girls were in the kitchen cooking and making tortillas and grandma was sitting nearby with the grandchildren as they played.

Our host mentioned to the women that we had never made tortillas before and once they got past the initial shock, they invited us to learn and help them. It was obvious that us “gringos” had no clue what we were doing, but it made for a lot of laughter and entertainment in the process. When we were done, they insisted that we sat down and gave our hard work a taste. They served our misshaped tortillas to us with fresh chayote and vegetable soup and orange tang. It was delicious!

*****Side note: The process of making tortillas out in the mountain villages is rigorous. They first dry out the corn, likely picked from their own crops, then they grind it down multiple times with large flattened rocks, and finally mix it with water to make it the right consistency. From there, they form the dough into perfect circles with their hands and throw it on their hand made stove top. Flipping them with their bare hands, of course. Pretty BA if you ask me!

I’m still blown away by the hospitality and generosity of the Honduran mountain people. They have so little, yet are willing to share whatever they have with complete strangers. The pure joy and happiness we brought them just showing interest in their lives and spending time with them made every minute of it worth it.

In our busy American lives, it’s so easy to forget the simple little things that make this life so meaningful. Where in our lives can we be less self centered and work on being more cordial and giving? Who can we take a few minutes out of our day to get to know a little better and share the love with?

“For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.”

Galatians 5:13

 

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