It started with a sore throat.
Last week was Semana Santa, spring break for us westerners, holy week for Honduras as we led up to Easter.
Now during Semana Santa it is mandatory to give your employees the last 4 days of the week off. Our hosts of course always give their employees the time off they deserve, but two of their workers still come in on their days off because the animals still need to be let out in the morning, and let them back in that evening. But since we were here our hosts asked if we would help give them full off days for holy week.
And so began our training.
I now know how to muck stalls, take care of chickens, move and tie lead lines for the goats to graze, milk goats, chase goats.
We did a lot of chasing in the beginning.
So when the sore throat hit, I assumed it was because I was a little overworked, getting up earlier than usual to take care of the animals on top of the manual labor we already did around the ranch.
And then I got a fever.
Now I had a fever in Cambodia for a day or two so I wasn’t super concerned by this either. It had been 5 months since I had gotten sick, I figured it was about time again.
“Morgan, do me a favor?” my teammate Hannah looked at me as I shivered through bible study on Wednesday. “Go to bed. And after we eat go back to bed.”
So maybe I looked worse than I thought.
I patiently rode out the hot and cold cycle that is a fever until the next morning. I woke up still feeling a little achy but not feeling as bad as I had the night before.
Still half asleep, I made my way into the bathroom, just randomly glancing into the mirror on my way out.
And stopped.
I walked back to the mirror examining my face, still not awake enough to fully process what I was seeing.
What did I eat last night to cause such a breakout? Shoot.
But then I thought that was silly.
Did I get attacked by a mosquito?
That one made more sense. We had a few fly around our room at night. But they had never targeted my face before.
And then it hit me.
Now I was wide awake, scouring my body as I saw more and more big red bumps.
Uh oh.
When we had first gotten to the ranch, our host’s four kids had chicken pox. Their parents wanted to go ahead and get them immune, so they went as far as having a friend in America send them pox contaminated items. And it worked.
Everyone on my team had had chicken pox before, but I couldn’t remember if I had or not, so I tried to stay away until the kids were better just to be safe.
But then a week or so later the baby got it.
And I forgot.
I didn’t think anything of it when I held him. I mean he was the cutest little thing, and I was usually too dirty from work to hold him so I soaked up the moments when I could.
And now here I was staring in disbelief at myself in the mirror.
I walked back into my room and just stood there, not really sure what to do with myself.
My teammate Amy cracked open an eye and looked at me. “Hey, how are you feeling today?”
“Well. I’m pretty sure I have chicken pox.”
“Oh no!”
And then we started laughing.
What else could we do?
I’m 23, I’m in Honduras and I have the chicken pox.
You just can’t make stuff like this up.
12 hours later though when the itching hit, I wasn’t laughing as much.
I woke up on Friday hoping that maybe one day was enough for these spots to get better.
Re-examining my face in that bathroom mirror only proved that it had gotten worse.
These bumps are huge! Couldn’t I have gotten more on my arms and legs? Why did so much have to end up on my face?
It looked like I had stepped back in time to my floundering pre-teen years of awkward body changes and cringe worthy style choices.
But like times 3.
On Fridays we have bible school in the morning and in the afternoon to catch all the students we can from each school period.
I didn’t realize until they got here that I didn’t want them to see me in this state.
I had come to terms of sorts, with how different my face looked now. Everyone on the ranch had seen our host’s kids with their chicken pox, so this wasn’t anything new, though my adult version of this looked a little more intense. My team was super comfortable with it, if anything more supportive then ever. If I didn’t think about it for awhile I even forgot I had chicken pox.
But as I heard the clamor of the students coming into our ministry house, fear gripped me.
Yes I was allowing the opinions of elementary and middle school students affect me.
And yes, I realize how crazy that is now.
But in the moment it was all I could think about.
Great they’re going to see the rest of my team and then their just going to all stare at me.
I could just picture them looking at me and laughing, talking in a language I only half understood.
What a great lasting impression for our final Friday together.
I mustered enough courage to at least walk into the room. Trying to keep my head low, I breathed a quick “Buenos dias” to my favorite middle school student Juan Ramone as I quickly walked past him to join my team standing along the sides of the room.
He looked slightly confused that I didn’t stop and talk to him as usual.
You’re not going to think I’m super cool anymore dude, trust me.
As our host began to lead worship, I looked around the room, thankful to see all eyes were on the words in front of them.
Glancing sadly at my fav student I leaned in to whisper to my teammate Katie. “I was going to take a picture with Juan Ramone today since it’s our last day, but I can’t now, this isn’t exactly the photo I was going for.
“I can take it and edit it on my computer for you?” Katie is one of the storytellers for our squad and she takes amazing photos that the WR re-posts all the time.
“Girl, that would be wonderful.” Relieved I leaned against the wall.
He might not want to hang out with me today, but I know he would at least take a picture, those are quick. And then Katie can edit like nothing ever happened to me. It’s perfect.
Yeah so the Lord let me sit in that slightly content state for all of 5 minutes.
Beloved. Why are you so concerned by your outward appearance?
I quickly wanted to cover my face for a different reason now.
As you probably know, over the past 9 and a half months I haven’t really worn any makeup. I’ve rotated through the same 5 or so outfits and I live in the same 4 headbands. I’ll probably need a tutorial on how to use a straighter when I come home.
But I haven’t really cared how I have looked. My other teammates and I have looked roughly the same.
But this, this was the first time I stood out from them; and not exactly in the best way.
My people pleasing tendencies were flaring up and my need to be accepted and liked by all was front and center once again.
Ugh.
I thought I had been making progress in the whole “don’t let other people’s opinions of you affect you” area, but clearly my adult chicken pox was showing me otherwise.
But thankfully my ever so patient Father was ready to gently call me out.
As your Creator only my thoughts matter, beloved. Don’t listen to those around you, listen to me. I call you beautiful and treasured and loved. You are Mine. Nothing compares.
Sometimes you just need 5 minutes with the Father to shift your perspective.
I think it is so easy to get caught up in the world around us sometimes. It pulls at us from all sides, whispering as society says one thing and people say another.
It’s easier to feel shamed by what is visible to you than to feel whole and secure in the One you can’t necessarily see in front of you.
But that’s why we have His word.
And His words declare that we are made in His image.
Fearfully and wonderfully made.
His handiwork.
As He proudly calls us by name.
We’re His children, precious in His sight.
And His words make me rejoice as He pulls me back into His truth.
I enjoyed the rest of that Friday morning group, maning the prize box and joking with the kids. No one looked at me like I had two heads or laughed, not like it would have mattered anyway. I took my unedited photo with Juan Ramone and we all hugged him tight as he left at the end. Clearly he had become the favorite of the whole team.
As the rumble of the van signaled that our afternoon group had arrived, the spirit of fear was quick to swoop in again.
But this time I had the sweet words of my Savior to counteract it.
And I walked into that room again with more confidence, already filled and content within my Father’s thoughts.
You are altogether beautiful darling, there is no flaw in you.
Song of Solomon 4:7
