Why this Blog?

The purpose of this blog is to share with you some of my reflections on our Honduras trip in December of 2006 and to (quite honestly) get to to consider going with us in 2007. Most of these posts actually came out of my daily journal. Some of them I wrote just to help me process the trip. They were all written either in December, 2006 or January 2007.

If you are not familiar with blogs (short for web log), you start at the end. Once you finish reading this post, scroll to the bottom of the page and start reading from the bottom up. If you wish to comment on something, or even ask a question, just click "comments" at the bottom of each post and follow the instructions.]

I hope this gives you some insight into the trip that the formal information we give out does not. Going to Honduras was one of the best decisions I ever made as a follower of Jesus Christ... and as a human being. I highly recommend you set aside November 28-December 5 on your calendar. If you want more information, contact myself or Larry Jageman.

Why Spiders should not have hair... Reflections on a week in Honduras, part 5

Journal Entry - December 3, 2006

It's Sunday morning. I slept for the first time last night...only woke up three times! (I'm guessing it really is the medication.) There was no hot water this morning, so I skipped the shower. Heck, my pants can almost walk by themselves anyway... why put a clean body in them to get in the way!

Father, I pray for this country. There is so much poverty here. There is so much oppression and pain. But where I want to pray for this country, it makes me want to pray for the U.S. even more. In the U.S. we have a poverty of spirit... we are often the oppressors... we are numb to life and try not to feel pain. It takes so much to satisfy...

We search for fulfillment... through our jobs, relationships... our stuff... and yet we already have so much. Maybe the secret of being full really is being empty. (Food taste better when you are hungry. Sleep is better when you are tired.)

As I write this I'm sitting in the chapel. The doors are open and it overlooks a small town called, "Nueva Esparanza" (New Hope) which is the town just down the hill from Montana De Luz. Nueva Esparanza was built after the hurricane and it is (I guess) supposed to be a sign of what the government can do if it "really puts its mind to something."

If you couldn't see some of the detail, or if we didn't have to drive through the town to get to Montana, you might mistake it as quaint... all nestled in the mountains. But even from here you can see the small houses... houses that probably anywhere in the U.S. would be considered slum. You can see the roads (and I use that term loosely). Every now and then you see people walking or gathering. The town is filled with real people, with real hopes and real dreams and real struggles.

But I sit up here separate.

I am removed from it all.

On a mountain. Sitting in a chapel... protected. I have light, shelter, an appearance of protection from the "creepy crawlers." I have privilege on the mountain.

I fear this is an analogy for much of my life. I sit in safety... objectively looking a the rest of the world. Protected by my wealth... my position... my status. Now, I know that emotionally this is not true. I know emotionally I enter into people's pain all the time. (But even writing that betrays or justifies.) But much of my life is a life removed.

I think a lot of us have this tendency to see God this way. Kind of up in heaven... in the safety and protection of heaven... looking down on the pain of earth. God is the one with all the money, all the resources... all the power....but maybe the problems are just too many.

Or maybe God doesn’t really care.

I think we tend to see God looking at us like I look down on this town: we are just one big mass of people... problems... and the need is so great and it is just overwhelming.

Contrast this with Vicki, the project director. She can't walk through Montana without having kids hanging off of her. She drives her truck through town; she can't go 100 feet without getting ambushed by people yelling, "Buenos Dias, Vicki!" or her stopping to say "hi." She knows most people's names and even their families. She speaks Spanish fluently. She is a part of their lives. She has entered into their world.

Today is the first Sunday of Advent: and I begin, once again, to reflect on the truth of the incarnation: the Word became flesh and lived among us.

If the gospel is anything to me, it is this truth: God does not sit removed. But He lives among us. He has learned our language... He has entered into our world.

Spiders should not have hair: Reflections on a week in Honduras, part 3

Meet Omar. Omar is just like any kid. He is just like me. Just like you. Over 99% of his DNA is exactly the same as yours or mine.

But Omar was born in Honduras. His mom died of AIDS, no one knows who his father is or if he is still alive. For the first 11 years of his life, Omar was passed around to "friends", relatives, people in his hometown of Choluteca. Then they discovered that Omar was HIV positive. And then he got sick. So they dropped him off at a hospital. End of story.

Omar was released and he spent 3 extra weeks in the hospital. Why? No one would pick him up. Hospitals in Honduras are different than hospitals in the US in that there are no nurses around to make you comfortable. No one feeds you. There is no hospital food. Family or friends are to bring food into the hospital and feed you, change your sheets, etc. But if you don't HAVE any of those people... believe it or not, you can go without food or care for quite some time. Say 3 weeks.

After 3 extra weeks in the hospital, he was extremely malnourished with enlarged internal organs. When Montana De Luz found out about Omar, they sent someone to get him. In no time, he had adjusted to his new surroundings in Montana de Luz.

Omar has been through a lot... more than most of us could understand, but if (when) you meet him, you will find him to be a regular boy. He loves to read, bike and well... yours truly tried to teach him a few magic tricks.

In January, I "adopted" Omar. For around $30 a month, I can play a small part in helping Montana De Luz provide care for him. My daughter and I pray for him at night. She sees his picture on our refrigerator and says, "Omar is from Honduras" and she might learn in a small way that there are people all over this world that are just like her... other than they were born into a different world.

You should go to Honduras if only to meet Omar. Maybe, I suspect, one of the kids will capture your heart as well.

Journal Entry: Friday, December 1

Wow, what a difference a single day makes. Honestly, I'm still not crazy about the idea of running into creepy crawlers in my bed, but this place grows on you quickly.

Today, we began working at Montana De Luz property. We broke into two teams and worked on two different projects, but we were all working in the same area, which was great. The group I was not a part of dug up these square sewer thingys (That is the technical name).

So let me begin by saying that Larry J. is one of the hardest working people I have ever met. I don't know for sure, but I think he is around 70. He looks MUCH younger and acts even younger than he looks. Every day, he was the first to start working and the last to leave. And the man works hard. I thought he was a great witness to the Honduran workers.

My group worked on replacing and "cleaning" playground sand. Basically, we shoveled the sand from the sandbox, put it in wheelbarrows, wheeled it around to the back of a building, dumped it, and wheeled the wheelbarrows back... this time with kids! The children were on break, so they spent a lot of time with us, which was fantastic.

Life here is simpler, although their lives are more complex. The kids all are HIV positive, and have a daily medical routine and regular doctor visits. There is so much more to worry about here, but they seem to worry less. Does that make sense? The kids just have a freedom that comes... I guess from just being a kid. But I'm glad they have at least that.

Poverty

I have no pictures of the drive from the airport to Montana De Luz. I wish I could say it was for artistic reasons (fear of blurring scenes, an inability to frame a shot, etc). The blunt, honest truth is that I was just too overwhelmed with what I saw to take any pictures of it.

I have never seen as much poverty as I saw in Honduras. It is pervasive. From the moment we got in the van until the moment we arrived in Montana De Luz, we saw conditions that were deplorable: everything from concrete block houses with dirt floors, to quite literally, a piece of tin held up with 4 sticks. My words seem inadequate to describe the scene.

Even the "nice" houses are below what most of us would feel a reasonable standard living. One of the houses to the right is one of the Montana De Luz volunteer houses in the town Nueva Esperanza. The town was built after the hurricane largely to give housing to displaced families. Some of the Montana staff live there as well. Again, for Honduran standards, the houses are nice. But it was just a reminder to me how high our standard of living really is in the US.

Here is where I most wrestle as a Christian: What do I do? In my mind, (before the trip) I thought I would come back to the US and just get rid of stuff. "Live simply so that others may simply live" and all those wonderful bumper stickers. But that just doesn't seem to cut it. I'm not even sure it is an income issue. Governments are corrupt, the country is in debt, the is no infrastructure to speak of (roads can help an economy, I have heard)... but that DO have a really nice statue of "Big Jesus."

"Big Jesus" (or his official name: "Jesus Christ in El Picacho") is a 2,500 ton, 100 foot tall statue of Jesus that was built in 1998 to the tune of Lps. 8 million (which isn't bad for such a hunk of rock!) The protestant pastors loudly opposed it, not because they would have used that money to... oh, I don't know, maybe feed people or build roads... but they opposed it because it is a "Catholic" Jesus. Whatever that means.

Former President Reina, along with his cabinet and a number of prominent Tegucigalpa businessmen set up a special foundation with the Archbishop of Tegucigalpa to raise funds for the project. The business sector responded immediately with a flood of donations and each of the cabinet members pledged a full month's salary.

Read that last sentence again... go ahead, I will wait.

[waiting]

Yes, the cabinet members pledged a FULL MONTH'S SALARY.

Now, go back up and read the second paragraph again. Go ahead... I'll wait again.

Yep. That is right. They gave a month's salary for a hunk of rock and yet there is so much poverty. Is there something wrong with this picture?

What do you do with so much poverty? Is it an issue? Do we embrace communism so that there is more equality? Is that the answer? Will that change anything?

And here are some questions: Is my quality of life all that better just because I live in a nicer house? Am I REALLY more blessed? Am I closer to God because of my wealth or does that wealth get in the way? Does my wealth really add anything tangible?

Looking at his disciples, [Jesus] said:

"Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God.
Blessed are you who hunger now,
for you will be satisfied.
Blessed are you who weep now,
for you will laugh.
Blessed are you when men hate you,
when they exclude you and insult you
and reject your name as evil, because of the Son of Man.

"Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven. For that is how their fathers treated the prophets.

"But woe to you who are rich,
for you have already received your comfort.
Woe to you who are well fed now,
for you will go hungry.
Woe to you who laugh now,
for you will mourn and weep.
Woe to you when all men speak well of you,
for that is how their fathers treated the false prophets.

Journal Entry: Thursday, November 30

"As I write this I'm in Honduras with a team of folks from Central: Larry and Mary Tracy, Maru, Jared, Tina, Wendy, Karen and myself. So far, I hate it. I'm ashamed to say that... but quite honestly I have a lot of fear at this point. I can't put my finger on it. I have fear of all kinds of stuff: getting sick, finding 'things' in my room, getting hurt... I fear facing the truth of my life and all the privilege in which I currently live. And I hate that I'm fearful. I just am.

Montana De Luz is nice enough, although it is way below the standard of living in which most Americans are used to: it is more like a summer camp. But how many summer camp staff tell you: "Make sure you check your bed for scorpions before you get in..." (and then tell you a story of someone who didn't and regretted it!).

What would it be like to live like this all the time? Or worse? Actually, the accommodations here are much better than the vast amount of Honduras. The water is safe to drink. There is a roof over our heads. There is a certain level of sanitation as all the kids have HIV and compromised immune systems. So in a sense, we are very pampered. But right now... I'm not feeling very pampered."

Spiders should not have hair: Reflections on a week in Honduras, part 2

Thursday, November 30

Our flight left Thursday morning, so our group decided to go to Columbus the night before and stay at a hotel so we could be up early. As I laid in bed Wednesday night/Thursday morning, it suddenly dawned on me that I didn't bring my camera bag and that was really stupid thing to neglect. I could not sleep, so I actually thought about driving back to Athens to get it. I laid there thinking, "Okay, it's midnight. If I leave right now I can be back in Athens by 1:30 am and back here by 3:30 am." Must have been the Malaria medication talking. Fortunately, Jared talked me out of it.

We had to be at the airport Thursday morning by 5 am, so we were up by 4 am. The hotel bus to take us to the airport was late... really late... and so we got to the airport by 5:45 am with our flight leaving at 6:20 am. Other than Tina sacrificing her 3.5 oz of Applesauce to the security folks (if they had only been 3 oz packages!), security was pretty normal.

Our flight connected through Texas and there was a "storm a brewin'," so we were delayed on the runway for 1.5 hours. Yes, you read that right... 1.5 hours on the runway; smelling jet fumes... waiting to take off. Now, BECAUSE we were on the runway for 1.5 hours waiting to take off, when we finally DID take off and fly to Honduras, we had to cut our trip short and land in San Pedro... as... yep... we were running low on fuel. So we landed at the San Pedro airport (I use that term very generously), got some fuel, and we were off to Tegucigalpa.

Now, the runway in Tegucigalpa is... well... miniscule. It is the shortest runway I have ever seen. To add to the challenge, Tegucigalpa is surrounded by mountains (notice those big black things just beyond the short runway?). So for a plane to land, it has to first drop out of the sky once it clears the mountains. It is a world of fun.

Upon arrival in Tegucigalpa (after dropping out of the sky to land on the world's shortest runway), the following images stick in my mind:

The money exchanger holding wads of cash... probably thousands of dollars. They don't bother with banks in Honduras apparently, there are these guys who just walk around with HUGE wads of cash and change your money.

The realization that I have no luggage. Yes, the airlines decided to break my run of dozens of fights without ever losing a piece of luggage. I think this was the most appropriate place to lose luggage though...seeing that I would be working in the heat, sweating like a pig (yes, I know that pigs don't sweat!) and having only brought one extra shirt in my carry on. More on the lost luggage later.

The young kids who met us on the street asking for money as we walked to the car. There is something even more compelling about kids begging in Honduras... but we were given very clear instructions about not giving money... which alleviated some of the guilt.

Our team met our driver (a Montana staff person who spoke only Spanish) and then loaded into a red van for the hour-long drive to Montana De Luz on the main road (I use that word, "road" very generously). Driving in Honduras is... well... an adventure. There are no rules. Heck, there are no lanes. The attitude is basically, "Hey, there is some open space between these two cars (mountains, etc) I think I will wedge my car in there!" Passing on a blind curve going up hill? Not a problem! Although this usually would bug me and make me tense, I have to admit I laughed about it more than I worried about it. Mostly, because I was so struck by all the poverty.

To be continued.

Spiders should not have hair: Reflections on a week in Honduras, part 1

So I think I could blog about this past week for the next several months. To be honest, I have been a bit hesitant to post as I think I'm still processing it all.

I think it is safe to say that the Thursday I showed up in Honduras, I was ready to leave, vowing never to return. The very next day I met the kids of Montana De Luz. Wow.

Let me say, I really don't like kids all that much. I feel pretty uncomfortable around them. Granted, some of that has changed with me having my own... but I still am not a kid person. But these kids won my heart pretty early.



There is a lot of pain around Honduras. To be honest, to me the most overwhelming thing was all the poverty. If you have never been to an underdeveloped country, you can't really understand what it is like. The drive from the airport to Montana de Luz was one of the most confusing/painful/eye-opening/terrifying times of my life. The poverty is staggering. And, in time, I will reflect on that.

But, in the midst of all that pain, there is a lot of joy. In the midst of conditions that I have never experienced before, these kids live. Fully live. Don't get me wrong, they are kids. They fight, and cry, and sometimes want things their way. But these same kids, all HIV positive, all living in conditions which any of my readers will probably never experience, make and sell jewelry to raise money for "less fortunate" kids. All together now.... wow.

So to Kevin, Wendy (both of them!), Omar... to all the kids of Montana de Luz... thanks for showing me life. I will hold you in my heart forever.