I sit on the tree swing by the road, reading my Bible, sort of, and mostly watching the boys trying to repair their bicycles. Two little children with their mother walk up the road yelling "Gringa!" and waving excitedly. I sit on the tin roof above our makeshift prayer room early in the morning and watch as the sun outlines the mountains in pink as I share prayers and proclamations for Honduras with my squad mate. Early in the morning I gasp as I stand shivering under the cold water that pours down on my tangled mess of hair from the shower head. I get winded climbing up a dusty road made of dirt, rocks and old tires to an equally dusty house perched on the side of a mountain. It belongs to the family of one of our boy's. They have no running water and a hole in the ground for a toilet. I stand on the top of a hill over looking the community of Los Pinos, proclaiming all the miracles that God is going to do in this place. I sit and ask a young girl the same three questions I ask every child I meet because they are the only ones I know in Spanish. I paint her nails and ponder how she found herself living in a government institution that attempts to keep the community safe by taking teenagers off the streets. I cherish my time attempting to help the boys with their math and social studies homework through broken Spanish, broken English and Google Translate. They haven't been to school in years and are just beginning to return to night school to finish sixth grade. I feel like a proud Mom as my boy returns from school with the biggest smile in the word to show me the perfect marks from his teacher. I sit in the ground and sift through the dirt to find bits and pieces of broken beer bottles. The property used to be a night club, and I smile at how God truly uses and redeems broken vessels. I stare at the graffitied wall of an abandoned building which has the hopes of becoming a youth center in the middle of a broken and frightened community. Looking up I see the face of a transformed young man and I realize that I would return to this place in a heartbeat.
The capitol city of Tegucigalpa.
The view from our backyard.
Some of our boys.
Photos by Justin Marshall.
