Sorry for my severe lack of blogging in Honduras. The combination of only having internet once a week, having to travel 45 minutes one way to get it, and just having such an overload of emotions, things to say, and things I am learning has made it difficult to sit down and type them out.
On Sunday, Josh, Nathan and I were visiting a church service of a friend, and as they were praying in Spanish, I was drifting off into my own little world with God. I was thinking about how we are leaving on November 1st, and how my heart feels so heavy when I think about this. "I know I have to leave," I thought, "But I love these people!" And in a gentle, quiet voice, God responded, "I know. I love them, too."
And with that simple, but meaningful response, I knew that the reason I have so fallen in love with this place and these people is because God decided to give me just a little view of how He sees the people of Tablon, Honduras.
When we first arrived, we peeled ourselves out of the truck that we had packed 10 people, 8 packs and daypacks, and two guitars into. We found ourselves outside of a concrete block church, and took a look around.
Dirt roads.
Concrete block houses.
Barbed wire fences with tree limb posts.
Banana trees.
Pine trees.
Orange trees.
Mountains shrouded by clouds.
Roosters crowing.
Calm breeze.
Clothes hanging on the line to dry.
Welcome to Tablon.
Our ministry this month has been to help the pastor of the church, Jesús, visit houses in the community. The previous pastor was called elsewhere, so when he left, many of the church members left as well. Jesús is actually more of a traveling evangelist, and two months ago, he felt called by God to come to Tablon.
In the mornings, we wake up from our room in the back of the church, and head to one of the two houses that have been cooking all of our meals all month. After breakfast, we head out with Jesús and another friend to visit houses. We usually end up ducking under barbed wire fences, walking aross fields, walking on a plank to cross a stream, and hiking up or down mountainsides to get to the houses.
We spend a few minutes sitting and talking with the families, then ask them how we can pray for them. Usually they ask for prayer for their families, and we circle up and pray warrior style (if you have never heard of this, it is an awesome, powerful, and efficient way to pray for people. Basically, everyone prays out loud, at once. Try it sometime). Then, they are invited to come to one of the services at the church. Many times, they give us oranges or bananas. It is apparently kind of a joke around here because there are so many orange and banana trees, there is more fruit than anybody would ever want. But they are AMAZING. Just be careful to get the dulce (sweet) oranges and not the acidico ones.
When we first heard that we would be doing door to door evangelism this month, we had mixed reactions. Many on our team were uneasy, as this is something that is kind of scary in the States. Some of us had expectations that we were going to go to houses that had not heard the Gospel, including an agnostic community that is just down the road. While that is definitely important, it has been more of strengthening relationships that although they were already there, were a little fragile.
After our house visits, we come back to Tablon for lunch with the two families, and we have the afternoons to nap, handwash our laundry, go down to the river to bathe, read, or do whatever we want. In the evenings, we have dinner, and on Sunday and Thursday nights, church.
Honduras, for me, has been a month of rest, beauty, relationships, and simplicity.
Last night, Josh and I were talking to our friend Duma, and she asked when we would be returning to Honduras, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It broke my heart to tell her that we didn't know when (or if) we would be coming back.
But, I do know that whether we get to return or not, life will go on here in Honduras. And God will still continue to work here. Honduras has found a way into my heart, and I know I will be leaving a piece of my heart here as well.
So goes the life of a missionary. But I wouldn't have it any other way. 🙂
