I’m kinda blogged out for the time being, and I’m not sure who is left reading these things but wanted to give you an idea of what Honduras looked like.
I just decided to cut and paste Brittany Cox’s blog.
Her team was with ours the entire month.
March 17th, 2011
I saw Hector in Los Pinos today. We passed him on our way in
and I gave him a high five out the window. On our way out I watched him hide
the bottle of paint thinner in his pocket and crush his soaked rag in his hand
as we drove up. The car stopped in front of him, his face just a foot away from
mine through the open window. Tony tried to coax him into conversation, but
Hector stood silently. Snot poured out of his nose and his glazed eyes held
mine hardly wavering. He appeared physically unable to speak- his mind too
muddled to form words. He just stood there. We stared at each other as Tony
continued to speak. I looked at this soft-spoken, gentle 18-year-old kid who
just two weeks ago was walking with me on the farm patiently and with laughter
teaching me Spanish.
I thought of his sweet smile that instantly melted my heart;
now my heart jumped into my throat as I realized just how high Hector was. The
car started to pull away, and I quickly asked Tony if I could get out.
Flustered, I struggled to open the busted car door, so Tony got out to help me.
I walked back to a motionless Hector and put my arms around him. His arms didn’t
move for several long moments until I said “Te quiero Hector� (I love you) four
or five times, and then he slowly returned the hug.
I held him tightly for a while then told him I would see him
Sunday. Finally I let him go, wishing I could just stay and sit with him. Tears
welled up as I got back in the car. I love this kid. My heart aches for him to
know that he is loved, for him to feel loved.
March 19th, 2011
I went into Los Pinos to say goodbye today and to pick up
the girls for our girls night. Hector was there. I jumped out of the car to go
to him, and when he saw me he turned and started walking away. I quickly
started saying “it’s okay, it’s okay� and rushed over to hug him. I asked how
he was and he said “mal� (bad). When I asked why, he pointed to the thinner in
his pocket. I told him to come and talk, and he actually got in the car after
me. As we drove a little further I breathed deeply and silently thanked the
Lord for giving me one last chance to see this kid.
Saying goodbye was tough. Maybe my toughest goodbye on the race.
I told him I loved him several times and he repeated it back, adding that I
would be in his heart forever. I cried hard as I watched him walk up the hill.
Our month working with the community of Los Pinos in
Honduras was deeply impacting. A community displaced by Hurricane Mitch several
years back, the people of Los Pinos are heavily burdened with poverty and a
lack of hope. Many spend the day in bed, finding no purpose in ever getting up.
There’s no food to eat. No money to go to school. No jobs to be found. Nothing
to do. Many roll out of bed long enough to sit on the corner with a bottle and
a rag- to get a high that numbs, reduces the appetite, and makes them forget
for a few moments that they have nothing.
But Tony has hope for these people. Some days I felt like it
was a wildly insane hope. But after holding a very high Hector and feeling a
fight in myself to love that kid and want so much more for his life, I realized
that it is the hope of the Lord. A hope given by God who redeems the life of
the kid that the world labels as having no worth and no potential. A hope in
the blood of Jesus, which washes away all our failures and makes us new and
whole. A hope that comes from the power of the Holy Spirit and his ability to
wreck and restore the heart in a moment.
I have this hope for Hector. I believe that Romans 8:38,39
is true for him; nothing can separate him from the love that God has for him.
Please help me continue fighting for this kid by praying for him.
