Our squad split up and crammed into two vans as we exited Nicaragua and made way to Honduras. The difference between the Central American countries has been astounding. I put my head clear out of the window and let my cheeks and hair flow back like a golden retriever. Watching the volcanic landscape swiftly change into something like home.
Honduras is full of mountains and pine trees. Yes, pine trees. I couldn’t get enough of the smell. My mind was bouncing from one thing to another and I landed on my family at home. I thought of my brother and sister-in-law and their baby, Wyatt, trapped in my sister-in-law’s womb, (yes trapped is an odd word but he’s a Chaney boy and we like to run around). I thought of the snow that has started falling in Montana and drinking hot mocha’s with my parents. Waiting eagerly to pack up and snowboard the next day.
After many other thoughts I glanced around the bus at my team. I drifted over to Rachel’s seat and we began sharing inserts from each other’s journals. Victoria joined us and we laughed and carried on about the number of memories that we have already made. As time carried on we became antsy. Antsy because we knew we were about to meet the pastor and his family and be dropped off in San Pedro Sula, famously known as the most dangerous city Honduras has to offer. From former conversations it became evident that the pastor and his family were not fluent in English. And none of our team is fluent in Spanish.
I entered the terminal with my backpack on, looking like a turtle much too small for my shell. And when I peeped my head up I saw a happy Honduran family with a big banner that read, “WELCOME WORLD RACE” with all of our names underneath decorated in different colored highlighters. Also including a welcoming penciled message that read “wi are glad to have you here!!!”
After hugging Pastor Gregorio, his wife Francisca and their daughter Ester we made our way by van again to their house about thirty miles outside of the city. We moved into a typical Central American household with the pastor and his wife their two daughters and their dog Chapu or as I call him “Shampoo”. Their brother lives in a house connected to this one with an outhouse in between. He is married and they have a daughter who celebrated her fifth birthday the day of our arrival, she seems to be in absolute bliss having four new girls to play with and look up to each day. Then there are the three nephews of Gregorio, we’re not sure where they sleep or how everyone is related but they are always around happily hanging off my body like moss, practicing English and talking about soccer.
It’s safe to say our team learned more Spanish during the first night than we had our first two months in Central America combined. God is challenging our team in many new ways this month. Our ministry is to teach kids in the neighborhood that are sponsored by American families to afford school supplies, kids who normally wouldn’t be able to afford an education. We play with them, hold them, and practice English with them each day.
Our challenge for the month will be a little like Baby Wyatt’s. We’re trapped in a small space with a large family. We’re in an area where it isn’t safe to wonder or go outside of the fence in the front yard. I have truly cherished my time at four o clock, when the pastor allows me and his nephews to stroll up the hill of the slums, and play soccer against another group of boys. They have quickly become our rivals. It’s a short moment where we all feel like thugs embarking in a battle to survive the match and go home feeling like champions.
I thank God for allowing me to experience a new place, to see a lifestyle different than my own. I could be at home near the snow, with my pants slightly pulled down in front of the hot oven while my mom tries to cook. Instead I’m in a stuffed house sweating like a pickle that was just lifted out of a glass jar (man that was a couple of weird sentences but they made since to me.) My point is that I wouldn’t have known the pastor and his family if I hadn’t allowed God to show me something new. I wouldn’t have been able walk home with the nephews humming the tune to Mario together or do awkward workouts in the small space of dirt outside of the house, while neighbors and friends stopped to ponder the white aliens who moved in down the block.
1 John tells us not to love the desires of the world. The desires of the flesh and the attractive things we see, to not put our pride in our possessions. His word tells us that this world is passing away with its desires. But those who keep his commandments will last forever. I don’t know much and the things I do know I forget very often. Or I put on a front and pretend to know much more than I actually do. But what I’m learning is that the Lord is at work and when we take our time to be involved in it, he will show us something beyond ourselves. Something outside of our comfort zone. Something away from the warm oven.
