Day 9

Yessenia...at the San Buenaventura playground...where kids can fly...

Today was our first official “video day”. Suzy picked us up a little after 7:00 and we drive the 45 minutes out to the children’s home.

This is my first trip back to Honduras in over 3 years and lots of people know how unsure I was of what I would feel upon returning. The first things I noticed were smells. Stepping out of the airport, I met a whiff of diesel fuel and smoke. It has almost felt like with each new smell, I repossess some of the “me” that was born here in Honduras. The “me” that lived on much less, the “me” that had children and spent every waking hour invested in their lives, the “me” that went days at a time without speaking any English, the “me” that I left here.  At Mision Caribe, I walked into the bathroom and smelled the black water that backs up into the sink drain when the city water goes out. Honduran toilet paper has a clean, dusty smell that reminded me of every time I’ve refilled the toilet paper here. Then the smell of fresh plantains sizzling in the frying pan in the morning made memories of crisp Honduran mornings jump into my mind. Then my sense of touch kicked in. Hondurans are very touch oriented. When they talk to you, they often reach out and put a hand on your arm for the duration of the conversation. Every greeting and goodbye is accompanied by a kiss on the cheek and often a hug. When we arrived at the children’s home in San Buenaventura today and I felt warm little hands slip into mine and looked into deep brown eyes that conveyed the sincerest admiration and delight, I remembered why I came here in the first place.

It was wonderful to be with the children again, and to feel like I could absolutely just enjoy their company without feeling responsible for their welfare or spiritual development. J Five of “my” six children were there today and while I enjoyed playing with each of the fifty-some children there, it was especially wonderful to see Reina, Julio, Wendy, Jimmy, and Cindy again. I can’t believe how they’ve changed. I remember the first day I met about half of the children we saw today. The others have arrived since the last time I was here. For those who I knew before, it became a game to ask me over and over, “What was I like when you met me?”, “How old was I the first time you saw me?”, etc. For children who have few positive memories of their past lives, I imagine it was exciting to hear the sweet things I remember about them from years ago. I told Cindy about how we taught her sign language before she learned how to talk. I told Suyapa about how I remember her taking care of the younger children when she came to kindergarten. I told Gina about the time I spent the night in Las Tapias and we read bedtime stories in her bed. They loved it.

Another sweet moment was snack time. At 10:00, the kitchen cooks called the kids over for their morning snack. Courtney and I held back a ways and took pictures of them lining up and praying. The prayed for children on the streets who won’t get a snack today. As they slurped up their cherry jello, a hand motioned me over to the kitchen door. As I peeked inside, Reina handed me two big cups of jello. I thought about the many snacks that Jenny, Annabel, Katie, Ruth, and I had made for those precious kids…and how neat it was that now one of them was watching out for me.

We spent the rest of the afternoon playing games, climbing on the playground, wobbling on the see-saw, and sitting close to each other talking about life. An impromptu game of baseball started up in a nearby field and we sat in the shade to watch. Wendy, who wasn’t playing, ran up to me with what was obviously a treasure in her hands. “Look, Mandie”, she said excitedly, and placed a rock in my hands. A few people know that I bring a rock back from almost every place I visit. Sometimes I write a verse or a word on them that reminds me of what God did there... or of that season of my life. There is a little silver dish in my bedroom where a growing pile of pebbles reminds me of where I’ve been, what God is doing, and why I will always continue to follow him. I don’t have a rock from Honduras yet, but the children’s home property is full of rocks and I was sure I would find one there. The significance of this particular rock is hard to put into words and will mean infinitely more to me (and the few people who know my WHOLE story) than it will to anyone else. It is exactly the shape of Africa. Receiving it from Wendy, in Honduras, on February 1^st, felt like Jesus putting his hand on my head and saying, “Well done. I can’t wait to show you what’s next.”

Courtney and I came back to Mision Caribe around 5:00 and were immediately filled in on Dr. Ken’s neuro patients for the day. He saw a young boy who has a variation of Turner’s Syndrome, which is extremely rare, as well as several other interesting cases. We did a little bit of pharmacy work after dinner and then proceeded to look through and edit the 427 pictures we took today, not to mention the 30+ videos.

It’s late now, and we’ve got another long day ahead tomorrow, so I’m going to say goodnight. Thanks to all of you who are reading these updates and praying for our time here. We’re having a blast!!

Courtney adds:

Children – what a joy!  My passion for them never changes no matter what country I find myself in.  Today we spent our time at the children’s home in San Buenaventura.  Upon our arrival we were rushed with smiles and hugs.  With too many hands to count holding onto our ten fingers we began snapping what ended up being 427 photos.  Because we were able to spend all day in their community, we were able to do much more than just take photos and video of their lives.  We were taught many “Miss Mary Mack” clapping games and the girls sang and danced to Hannah Montana “Hoedown Throwdown.”  Inside we played card memory games, dominoes, and Go Fish, and outside we played on the slides, monkey bars, and a see-saw.  What a day!

We ate, sang, laughed, played, and loved the children all day today.  It was wonderful to be a part of their lives for such a brief moment. 

One thing that I have become accustomed to during my time in Honduras is a slight variation to my name.  My Honduran name is Corey. J Haha – I now respond to it just as much as Courtney because the children could not seem to master the “t”. 

I believe Mandie has said it all…I am watching her hang her head off the bed, which I have actually learned to enjoy and elevate her legs, which she just informed me I should join her…for twenty minutes…to help with circulation.  This will be fun.  Good night and sweet dreams!

Joel, Courtney's newest admirer...

How many people can we fit on this thing before it breaks?

Courtney and Joel. They've become best friends in spite of only being able to say about 6 words to each other.