Hot Showers

Hello All,
I have been living the life of luxury for the past two days--having had my first hot shower since Mexico on Tuesday. It was wonderful especially since I´ve been freezing cold the past couple nights. I bundle up every night now with two pairs of socks (one of which is soccer socks), a long- sleeved shirt, a jacket, a hooded sweatshirt, and sweatpants. This is topped off by two fleece blankets.

Meanwhile, it is definitely the rainy season here. I need to hand wash some laundry in the pila, but without a dryer, there is always the chance that those clothes will never actually dry. It doesn´t really matter if and when they do because I feel like most everything is perpetually damp and smells like it as well no matter how long it sits in any amount of sunlight.

We have experienced some changes in volunteers. Ahn left us this past weekend, and I miss her honest spirit and her jovial, carefree attitude. But we have a new addition to our Esperanza household--an older Cuban-American woman named Maricruz. She is very nice and is a dear friend of the family, having worked at the INFA center before. She apparently runs it all with an iron fist. Today, Tina told the rest of us volunteers with astonishment that Maricruz has very strict rules that the girls and boys (they´re newborns to ages 6 or so) are not allowed to play together. Furthermore, the girls are only allowed to play with dolls, and the boys are only allowed to play with trucks. Needlessly to say, for us 20-somethings, this was a little odd.

Teaching has gone very well for the past two days. Currently, first grade presents the greatest challenge as they have tiny attention spans, and it is difficult to teach children who can´t read their native language. I have loved working with the fourth and sixth grades though. Sixth grade is where I feel the most comfortable. The students in those two grades know my name, and the sixth grade have started lovingly calling me ´´Sarai´´ instead of ´´Sarah.´´ We are still covering the alphabet and the sounds of letters with the older grades and second grade while we have started the colors with the first grade. I greatly enjoy teaching and how I have to think on my feet sometimes, but at the end of the first class period on Monday, I was already losing my voice. So, please keep the endurance of my throat in your prayers.

I was thinking today of how thankful I am just to have something to do. As much as I appreciated the time of rest in Mexico (and still the rest that I get here as well), it is nice to have a job, a purpose, and something meaningful to fill the time. Being a person who is constantly busy, I do enjoy the opportunity to be learning how to be a better teacher even as I´m teaching my students. My heart is filled with warmth when I can see a light bulb moment for even one of my students.

Today, something very interesting happened. While we were at the school, a mission team from Arkansas came by. Apparently, they have done work at that school before and are working with some missionaries near Esperanza named Herb and Joan Prince. Alvin had told me that he knew some missionaries near Esperanza, but I don´t know if it is this couple or not. Anyway, as I was talking to one of the leaders, I mentioned Alvin, and he knew him! He said he met Alvin last year or so. What a small world, first of all, and furthermore, what a blessing it was for me to share something so close to my heart--Manos Extendidas and Alvin Anderson who is like my second father--with a complete stranger. The ties within God´s children never cease to amaze me. This occurrence made me think once again of that idea of multiplication and how obedience to God allows Him to move and make connections that never would have been possible otherwise.

I absolutely cannot wait for this coming weekend. I am traveling by bus once again back home to Tegus. I will get to see Alvin towards the end of the weekend, and I am thrilled about this. I have missed Papi Alvin so much! I am also excited because Roy said that on Saturday, he is going to take Tia Sara, the girls, and me to Julio and Bessy´s house to clean and paint and freshen up the place. (Julio is the man in the wheelchair that Roy helps everyday by lifting him out of bed, bathing him, and running errands for him and his wife.) I am so excited to do this! This is bound to be a memorable weekend, so while I´m enjoying the week immensely, I am filled with joyous anticipation for what is in store in just a few days.

With love,
Sarah

So grateful. . .

Hello All,
I have returned to La Esperanza, and I feel a million times better. I´m taking an antibiotic, and I still have a cough and some junk in my chest, but I´m doing so much better. It was a truly precious weekend. Saturday was mainly spent resting while yesterday two carloads of us went to the Teen Challenge branch about an hour from Tegus to visit Yino (spelling?), Nellie´s brother. Roy, Idania, Bladimir, me, and several other people I didn´t know well made the drive.

When we got there, a church service was in progress, and it was pretty amazing as it was obvious that the Spirit was moving. Afterward, we shared a picnic lunch, and I heard some of Yino´s testimony. Please keep him in your prayers. He has been there for roughly a month for drug/alcohol rehab. There is obviously quite a call on his life, and he is taking the steps needed to follow God´s will. Just pray that God would continue to lead him in this time of healing.

The whole weekend was a wonderful time of sharing and fellowship, and so much of God´s love was lavished on me that I hardly knew how to handle it. God is so very good, and He has blessed me immensely.

It was a little tricky getting back here as today is June 28--the one year anniversary of the ousting of ex-president Manuel Zelaya. There were numerous marches by the resistence today--the few that are still frustrated over Mel´s ousting; thus, several roads were closed. Lucky for me, Roy knows his way around Tegus, and he always manages to find a way to get around. My four hour bus ride went very smoothly.

I find it so amazing that this date once again finds me in this marvelous country. The more I see of Honduras, the more I tend to believe that it is the most beautiful country in the world. I am simply astounded that God has permitted me to be here yet another summer. While I am enjoying it so much, my heart longs for roots and permanence here--the chance to finally let it be home minus the suitcase. All in good time, though, I know.

Meanwhile, it´s back to teaching tomorrow. I was quite sad to leave Tegus (as always), but I´m getting much better at goodbyes since they seem to happen frequently now. I do want to serve and be a blessing to the best of my ability to my fellow volunteers and to my students while I´m in La Esperanza though, and I thank God once again for the privilege of being here.

With love,
Sarah

Back Home

Hello All,
Well, this new post finds me back in Tegucigalpa and so very happy to be back home. Teaching went very well this week. I enjoy the ability to collaborate with the other girls, but I also love the time that I have within my own group because I'm free to teach according to my own style. The kids here are wonderful. I, personally, have had no discipline problems, and I find that as long as I am engaging, they make progress. So, as soon as I can see that I am boring them, I stop what I'm doing and change it up. Most of my personal focus has been on providing a phonics basis. I learned to read English through phonics, and I find that it allows students to read even when they don't know what the word means. Thus, I'm not a huge fan of rote memorization or even an excess of vocabulary that is difficult to retain. I want the students to have a basis for learning more later if they so desire.

On Thursday, I found myself getting rather sick. My roommate had a bit of a cold earlier, but she was starting to get better. At that point, my throat started draining, etc. I thought perhaps it was allergies because La Esperanza is very dusty. But, I don't really know now as it has steadily gotten worse. On Thursday, our ride in the back of the truck was accompanied by Honduras' typical mist of rain. It's like fog, but there is actual precipitation. By the time I reached the school, I was wet and cold and sick and ready to crawl back into bed. But, I had three classes to teach, so I just prayed that God would give me the strength to teach. And I will gladly say that they were some of the best classes I've ever had.

On Friday, we were only supposed to have one class--the sixth grade. However, it was also game day (Honduras versus Switzerland in the World Cup). On game days, the whole country basically shuts down--schools close, businesses are at a stand still, government buildings shut down, etc. We waited for a truck for close to half and hour, and there was never one going our direction. Thus, we headed home. On the way home, I stopped to buy minutes for the cheap cell phone that I bought here, and in the process, we stumbled across a cute little coffee shop. Taking advantage of the free time, we had some cake and coffee. It was delicious.

The original plan was for the five of us to go to El Lago de Yojoa after the game--the same lake that I went to last year, and we were going to stay at the D & D Brewery for a night, a hostel and set of cabins run by a gringo bluegrass musician and his Honduran wife. It's the only microbrewery in the nation, and it's a cute, cheap place. However, I woke up on Thursday at 2 in the morning with throbbing ears, a burning throat, and a headache. Thus, I figured that there was no real point for me to go to El Lago de Yojoa if I wasn't going to be able to swim and would just be sitting outside miserable. So, I decided reluctantly (for whatever reason) to take a bus back home to Tegus. I won't lie--I have been terribly homesick for Villa Vieja and my Honduran family here. Originally, I planned on toughing it out and going to the lake I guess simply because I did not want to seem like a big baby (since I've only been in La Esperanza for a week). But, the thought of having my family to baby me when I'm sick and keep me from being lonely was too enticing. And furthermore, as I was struggling with the decision, God just said to me, "Sarah, I don't know why you struggle to be a 'strong,' self-sufficient woman always wanting to tough it out when all I want you to do is receive My love and let yourself be a baby in My arms."

So, after watching the game (Honduras actually held their own although it was a tie at 0-0), I took the last bus from Esperanza to Tegus at 3. It was a direct, four-hour trip, and was the best $5 I've ever spent. I arrived at dark at the bus station that was close to the church. I had called Roy earlier that day to see if he could pick me up, and despite the short notice, he said that if I gave him a time and place, he'd be there. He also asked Sara and Sally if I could return for the weekend, and they said, "Of course!" I love them. I was the last one off the bus, and I stood outside the station waiting. I knew where I was and could have walked to the church from the station, but I wasn't sure if Roy knew where the station was exactly. Finally, everyone else had left, and I was still standing. The men from the bus company made me come inside the station's gates, saying it was too dangerous for a gringa to be standing out there. They're probably right since the station is located in Comayaguela, and being near the church, it's the rough part of town. The men were very nice, and I called Roy, and he told me he was on his way. After waiting for close to half an hour, I finally called him back just to ask if he knew where he was going. I tried to explain with my meager directions, but I ended up handing the phone to one of the men from the bus station. Poor Roy had been driving up and down the same street looking for this tiny bus station. He finally arrived but not before one of the men asked me for my phone number. Ha ha. Luckily for me, I don't know my own number. Overall, it was a funny experience--another one of those times when I realized that I'll never fully be able to be a catracha or live life normally simply because the color of my skin.

Roy took very good care of me. We zipped through the city on the motor bike. Let me say that there is little I love more than a ride on the moto through the city at night. As silly as it may sound, it's peaceful, and I love the city lights. All I could think about was how I felt mountains better simply because I was back home. Roy took me to a pharmacy and insisted that I get medicine, and while I was waiting on the Amoxicillin (since I'm pretty sure I have a sinus infection. . .and no prescriptions are needed for most medicines here), Roy bought the ingredients needed to make me soup. We drove to Alvin's house since Sally and Sara were at church, and Roy welcomed me back by saying in English, "Welcome to your house." I love that house. It feels so much like home and reminds me of last summer.

Roy painstakingly made me chicken noodle soup and gave me lots of clear liquids. He made sure I took my medicine, and in general, just took very good care of me. Although I do usually try to be the tough girl, I was so blessed by his gentle treatment of me that I was in tears. I love the ways and the people that God uses to show me the depths of His love. Meanwhile, Kevin was up, so I got to visit with him some too. I love that little boy so much. He has been my adopted brother for quite some time, and I am glad that we're both at home enough with each other that that is how we mutually treat each other.

After eating, Roy drove me back down to the Eagle's Nest where everyone was asleep by now (except Mami Sara who is always protective of me). I settled back in, and while in the process of putting on my pajamas, I received a text message from Alvin. I had texted him while on the bus just to say hello and ask him if he was going to be back in the country for a bit. Roy had told me that he'd be here for a week two weeks from now to host a Danish team. If that was going to be the case, then I would take a bus from Esperanza to Tegus again to see him. He told me that he would be here, so I think I will get to see him! I am so glad as I have missed Papi Alvin so very much.

All in all, it is so wonderful to be home. I love Esperanza, and I love teaching. But it is not the same as the open love and ample comfort I feel when I am here with my family. Meanwhile, it has been raining steadily all morning, and I am enjoying the tranquility of it all (and the fact that it is so much warmer here. . .or that could be the fever). At any rate, please pray for me. I'd like to get back to top health before I have to teach again.

With love and astounded joy at His grace,
Sarah

Bucket Bathing and Roller Coaster Rides

Hello All,

I made it to La Esperanza safely and have already begun teaching. It is an awesome experience thus far. I left Tegus with some difficulty--more than I expected which doesn´t bode well for August. Every year, it gets harder to leave.

So, to give you an idea of my typical day here, here is my new daily routine:
I generally wake up a little before the sun--around 4 or so. I have difficulty going back to sleep because it's pretty flipping cold here at nights and in the mornings. So, I lay in bed in my hoodie and sweat pants and soccer socks until there is enough light outside to bathe, as the shower is outside. Although there is a shower here, they typically only have water for two hours every day or so; thus, if you happen to snag some water (and hot water at that), it´s like hitting the lottery. Rather than waiting around, I just use the ice cold water from the pila (rainwater). Let me tell you, dunking your head in an ice cold bucket of water at 5 in the morning in a shower that is outside after you´ve been nestled in bed is quite a wake up process. Being a fanatic shaver, my legs and I are slowly growing accustomed to perpetually having the worst case of razor burn known to man. Ha ha. After shivering, bathing, and laughing myself awake, I crawl back into bed to keep warm before breakfast. We eat at 7.

We head to school after that by walking to a truck stop. We catch a ride to Chilicotoro (I highly doubt that´s spelled correctly) where the school is. The school is 30 minutes from La Esperanza, and we ride in truck taxis--in other words, you flag down a truck that is going your direction, you hop in the back, and hold on for dear life until you reach your destination. It´s the cheapest and best roller coaster ride I´ve ever had since it costs all of 50 cents and lasts for 30 minutes. We sit on the railings that surround the truck bed, and it´s a trick to balance yourself amidst numerous other people and whatever they happen to be carrying. The difficulty of this task is heightened by the fact that roads include mini-Grand Canyons, and the truck drivers drive like crazy men. By the time the ride is over, I am covered in dust, I have crazy, wind-blown hippie hair, and my back is stiff from trying to maintain my bony butt on the metal bar. I love it! It´s one of my favorite parts of the day.

Teaching is going quite well. Classes start at 8 and end at 12. I team teach with two other volunteers--Lindsay, 20, from South Carolina who has been here for a while now, and Mary Claire, 23, my roommate from Ireland. They are both lovely to work with. We typically make lesson plans together. We teach 1st-6th grades although the days alternate. It can be a real challenge as some of the classes are huge. The 6th grade has 49 students. We try to divide and do as many smaller group activities as possible to improve individualized education. It´s an amazing experience, and the classes themselves remind me of Jamaica. I am so thankful that I had a practicum teaching experience in Jamaica because I think I´ve adjusted much easier to the system here as a result.

As worried as I was about this experience, the teaching itself comes quite naturally, and I find it to be a real joy. I am so blessed by the fact that teaching English in Spanish has really been quite smooth. Realistically, the kids have no English basis. Some of them have memorized some basic vocabulary or conversational questions and answers, but they seem to have no grammar or even phonics/pronunciation basis. Thus, today, we worked with the fourth grade teaching the English alphabet and their sounds. I am learning to be quick on my feet and to adjust my loose lesson plans to better fit the environment and the disposition of the kids. Games are always the way to go. They keep them engaged and help them to learn without them even realizing that they´re learning. Meanwhile, I have been so thankful for all of the items that were donated that I dragged from the US to Mexico to Honduras since the schools seriously lack materials. Because of a lack of consistent teaching of English (and the fact that the next volunteer teachers won´t come until January), it´s difficult to know what the goal should be. We were given a set of Honduran standards, but realistically, there is no way that they´ll be reached. There simply isn´t the time or the materials to do so. Thus, my personal goals have just been the following: to show the love of Jesus to every child, to instill a desire (however small) in that child to learn English, and to teach something (anything) new to any child willing to learn. With those simple goals in mind, it is going very well, and naturally, I am learning a lot in the process.

I love teaching. I really do. I love how at home I feel in this environment. I feel as if the US school system and my field work through Shepherd has left a bad taste in my mouth in regard to teaching. However, the elements of teaching that transcend politics and standards, testing and salaries, thrill me and bless me greatly. Teaching and learning here, while the system seems rather horrific in some regards, are just simpler, and in some ways, better.

Anyway, after teaching, we ride back on the truck into La Esperanza for lunch. Our afternoons are free, and everything in La Esperanza is in walking distance. Esperanza is a pueblo--it´s small. There is only one paved road in the whole town. It is such a charming place with a central park as well, which reminds me of the zocalos in Mexico. I really like it here. I enjoy walking by myself and feel safe wandering the town. While I always love my time in Villa Vieja and Tegus, I am so grateful for this experience because of the independence it provides me. While I love having people to take care of me, and I greatly appreciate the protection and guidance of everyone from MEH, I am thankful to be all alone here. It is encouraging to me because every little victory as a single person with only the help of God further demonstrates that I can live in this country without problems.

We live with a host family--it´s actually a collection of relatives scattered in adjoining houses. In total, there are five of us volunteers. The other two are Anh--26, from Texas, and Tina, 21, from Holland and Alabama. We all get along very well, and I enjoy our time together. The family we stay with feeds us breakfast and dinner, and they are very kind. They have numerous kids that at times can be a handful. But, overall, my living situation is quite lovely as is my time here.

God has been so good to me this summer, and I am infinitely grateful that I still have time left here! Who knows what more He will do?

With love,
Sarah

La Esperanza--The Hope

Hello All,
Sorry for the blogging hiatus. It has been a necessary time of personal reflection and God-guided changes. Once again, He is showing me so much of Himself and His plans in this place. I feel overwhelmed with joy and find myself laughing for no apparent reason, much to the confusion (or shared joy) of others around me. While my first couple of days here were a time of testing, where God was asking me if I was willing to give up Honduras and put my heart's deepest loves and desires on His altar (I was), the past few days have been burdens lifted and a sweet soaking in of His tender love. His time is infinitely perfect! I have been reminded of several words that God gave me last summer: Although I have been accustomed to being pushed around, God's touch is gentle. He is taking His time with me--not because He wants to be cruel, but because He knows I will wait for Him and because He wants to take the time to woo me. It's a marvelous thing, and I want to savor every part of the journey. His stories are always the best, with each intricate detail simultaneously working for His glory and working to impress me with His keen eye and meticulous hand. His stories aren't the kind to be devoured and dismissed. Stories that merely entertain and eat time lack cleverly woven plots. God is an author with an expertise in symbolism and foreshadowing; you can't devour His works because you'll miss some element of their beauty.

I have received further, deeper, confirmation that I do have a calling to be a missionary, and that I am, indeed, called to Honduras. I don't feel called to a specific task here at this time. I don't want a position. I don't want a title. I don't even really want a niche. I don't even know that I will teach. I only feel led to be irrelevant, a servant, the least of these. I feel very called to those that are forgotten. I feel called to the places where no one else wishes to go so that I can bring the love of Christ to those who have fallen through the cracks. It is not a complicated work. It involves no plans, no programs. It's not about funding or about mission statements. It's just about intimacy with God, obedience to Him without self-importance, and an extreme dependency on the Father at all times, in every moment. I am reminded of Matthew 10:
Go to the lost, confused people right here in the neighborhood. Tell them that the kingdom is here. Bring health to the sick. Raise the dead. Touch the untouchables. Kick out the demons. You have been treated generously, so live generously. Don't think you have to put on a fund-raising campaign before you start. You don't need a lot of equipment. You are the equipment, and all you need to keep that going is three meals a day. Travel light.

God has been so good in showing me the depth of His love, and I've once again been stuck in Isaiah.
Isaiah 43:
But now, God's Message, the God who made you in the first place, Jacob, the One who got you started, Israel: "Don't be afraid, I've redeemed you. I've called your name. You're mine. When you're in over your head, I'll be there with you. When you're in rough waters, you will not go down. When you're between a rock and hard place, it won't be a dead end--because I am God, your personal God, the Holy of Israel, your Savior. I paid a huge price for you: all of Egypt, with rich Cush and Seba thrown in! That's how much you mean to me! That's how much I love you! I'd sell off the whole world to get you back, trade the creation just for you.
Isaiah 44:
So what is coming next? Anyone want to venture a try? Don't be afraid, and don't worry: Haven't I always kept you informed, told you what was going on? You're my eyewitnesses: Have you ever come across a God, a real God, other than me? There's no Rock like me that I know of.
Isaiah 45:
I'll go ahead of you, clearing and paving the road. I'll break down bronze city gates, smash padlocks, kick down barred entrances. I'll lead you to buried treasures, secret caches of valuables--confirmations that it is, in fact, I, God, the God of Israel, who calls you by your name. It's because of my dear servant Jacob, Israel my chosen, that I've singled you out, called you by name, and given you this privileged work. . . . Clearly, you are a God who works behind the scenes, God of Israel, Savior God. . . . Who told you, and a long time ago, what's going on here? Who made sense of things for you? Wasn't I the one? God? It had to be me. I'm the only God there is--the only God who does things right and knows how to help.
Isaiah 46:
From the very beginning telling you what the ending will be, all along letting you in on what is going to happen, assuring you, "I'm in this for the long haul, I'll do exactly what I set out to do." . . . I've said it, and I'll most certainly do it. I've planned it, so it's as good as done.

God knows all the plans that He has for me. His will is rich and humbling. It's so unbelievable all that He has planned, and I know from the Scriptures above that He will carry it all out in His time. I only have to wait and rest in His extravagant love. What a privilege to be prepared delicately by a perfect Father.

Finally, I was incredibly blessed by Isaiah 50:
Listen to me, all you who are serious about right living and committed to seeking God. Ponder the rock from which you were cut, the quarry from which you were dug. Yes, ponder Abraham, your father, and Sarah, who bore you. Think of it! One solitary man when I called him, but once I blessed him, he multiplied.

With today being Father's Day, I am especially touched by Isaiah 50. I am blessed by the ripple effect of the obedience of the fathers in my life. My very own father is an amazing man, and I feel blessed beyond words that God granted me a father who points me to the Father first and foremost. My dad has taught me many things--how to be a strong and not governed by emotions, to seek out the outcasts and love the unloveable, to be content and not high maintenance, and that I only need to depend on one man--just Jesus. I am quite grateful that my father has also been missions-minded, for he planted many seeds in my life that are now coming to fruition for God's glory. I was cut from the rock of my parents, and they have had immeasureable, beautiful effects on my own life.

Another father that has had unspeakable impact on my life is Alvin Anderson, the man who started Manos Extendidas (www.mehonduras.org). If it wasn't for his obedience to come to Honduras 14 years ago (the anniversary just happens to be my birthday. . .accident? I think not!), I wouldn't be here today. It brings me to tears to think of all of the intricate details of obedience that God orchestrated for me to be here and be who I am today. Alvin echoes Isaiah 50. He was one solitary man when he was called, but God has multiplied his servant's heart in mighty ways. I see his obedience everywhere here--in Quendy, in Mayra, in Blanca, in Sara, in Kevin, in Bladimir, in Roy, and in my own life. Alvin's prayer echoes 2 Timothy 2: "Become the kind of container God can use to present any and every kind of gift to his guests for their blessing."I can't remember which time it was when we were here, but my dad, Joe, asked Alvin what we could pray for him, what needs he had. Alvin's response blew us away because instead of asking for money for a project or help for a plan or program, he merely asked that we'd pray that God would purify him to be a clean vessel for others. I find that this is now also my prayer.
And knowing with great gratitude from where I was cut, I lovingly wish these--my two fathers--a very Happy Father's Day!

Meanwhile, it's been a little bit of a rocky time here at the house, and we would appreciate your prayers. For whatever reason, the public school here gave every school child 400 lempiras which is roughly the equivalent of $20. With this in her pocket, Blanca decided to leave us. She got it into her head that she would leave, would go back to live with her grandmother (who left her with Child Services to begin with), and eventually would find a job in the US. Blanca is 13. As a minor, she had to be taken to the police station to be processed with Child Services again. However, they don't work on Saturdays--which is when all this transpired. Thus, after Roy and Sara had carted her down there, they carted her right back with her three trash bags of stuff. Blanca had a conversation with Papi Alvin and decided to stay instead of leave. I don't know what sparked this desire to leave, and prayers for Blanca and the situation are still needed.

This is most definitely a house of women--strong-willed ones at that. There are times when the girls butt heads or argue with Sally and Sara. It is an interesting environment. All of the girls crave male attention. We can all be sitting in our shared back bedroom, and the second a male voice passes through this place, every single girl is up and running to see who it is. There is unending talk of Papi Alvin and Roy--the two loving men who care for these girls on a regular basis. Papi is the one who brings the girls here, who adopts them, who disciplines them, loves on them, and encourages them. Roy is the one who takes them to school, offers them a smile and a joke, and quietly protects them within the neighborhood (whether they're aware of it or not). It is a good environment here. While Sally does not speak Spanish, she does keep the household running with her no-nonsense practicality and with her grandmotherly charm. Sara, meanwhile, governs the girls with a fiery but delicate disposition. She demands utmost respect, but she also loves with abandon. And, the girls are escaping their pasts as a result.

I don't know Blanca's story specifically, but I know she has a past. Quendy was sexually abused by her own father and abused physically by her mother. Mayra, my little Spanish-spewing fireball, was sexually abused by the man who is both her father and grandfather. She is the one who turned him in once she learned how babies are made. I love all of my girls here. They are my adopted little sisters. Mayra especially has blessed my heart while she's been here. We've had several conversations about how she doesn't need a boyfriend although boys may want to date her. She wants to focus on her studies and wants to further her future. She is the first one to serve, always cleaning, always caring for others, and every spare moment that she has, she spends reading her Bible. Let that soak in long enough, and it'll be convicting. I know it is for me.

I went to church again today. It was much different than last Sunday. It's hard to explain, but it left me with a peaceful sense that God knows what He is doing. He is shifting that congregation. He is moving in that place. And I welcome the work of His hands and marvel that He allows me the privilege of sharing in it.

Anyway, while I have loved this short span of time here, the time has come for me to venture to La Esperanza for the next part of my adventure. It will most definitely be out of my comfort zone. Even just that short bit of time spent trying to teach Roy, my 23-year-old student, showed me just how difficult teaching English will be. I have no experience and no lesson plans. I don't even know what age group I'll be teaching. In short, I am in over my head. But I know that when I am in rough waters, I will not go down. Ultimately, God works best when I am the one lacking. Bring on the weakness and may God have all control. I will meet the director and an incoming volunteer at the airport tomorrow. From there, we will spend a night in La Valle de Los Angeles for orientation, and on Tuesday it's off to La Esperanza by bus.

I don't believe that it is any accident that I am going to La Esperanza--"The Hope." I believe I've already mentioned the dual meaning of "esperar"--to wait and to hope. It is an appropriate place to be in for me at this time. I am waiting on my Father, on the fruition of all His good works, and as I wait, I reside in The Hope. I hope that you do too.

Thank you for reading my transparent confessions and for all of your prayers offered up on my behalf. I don't know what internet access will be like at this new place, but I will do my best to keep you updated.

Los quiero,
Sarah

Sonrisas. . .Muchas Sonrisas

Hello All,
I won't take the time to write about all of the beautiful things that happened today. (They are too many to count or remember.) I'll only take the time to say that God is always infinitely in control, and waiting on Him always pays off.
With great love,
Sarah

I'm Just a Chiquitita

Hello All,
Well, the day started with an early morning game of World Cup soccer between Honduras and Chile which, sadly, resulted in a loss. Watching the game was still a good time, though, as we huddled in the dark of the living room on the couches at five in the morning to cheer on our team. I still wore my Honduras jersey today for solidarity. We followed the game with some early-morning prayer.

I am learning once again how blessed I can be by the little things. For example, generally, milk here is either bought in bags or is bought in powdered form and mixed with water. We typically have powdered milk and when we put it on our cereal, unless someone has put some in the refrigerator, it is room temperature. This is a little odd for this gringa, but I still eat it gladly. This morning, though, we had cold milk! I was so blessed by God's little gift that I sat in my seat, swaying and humming and slurping my cold milk and bran flakes like a jovial toddler.

My days here are tranquil. I read a lot and pray and journal extensively. It is a needed phase at this time, and it will only last so long before teaching will begin on Tuesday. Yikes! This week is going by so quickly. This evening, we will go to church again. I have come to enjoy the fact that when I have no real expectations or pressures for this place to be home, it becomes home again. I am learning that Honduras has always seemed like home because of the level of submission God always brings me to in this place. It is not this country in and of itself (although we did have chicken tacos with pickled cabbage and carrot salad for lunch, and I will readily say that I will gladly adopt the food!).

For example, today Roy, Sally, Sara, and I all went to the market in Kennedy to buy some fruits, vegetables, and other needed items. Roy and I carried the bags although he's stubborn and wouldn't actually let me carry that much. As we wandered by the stands, a lady made a comment on my Honduras jersey. She gave a big speech about how odd it was to see a gringa sporting catracho colors on game day after they'd just lost--especially when the U.S. is a qualifying team as well. She, herself, was wearing a Honduras jersey, and apparently, someone had told her that she should take it off since they lost. But, she affirmed that win or lose, she's always a catracha. She spoke very quickly, so it was hard for me to catch it all, and her tone of voice changed so drastically so many times that I wondered for a second if she was insulting me or praising me for my choice in clothing. But, the laughter and look on Roy's face reassured me that she meant well. It was a funny moment because it was a little eye-opening to the truth that if I live here, no matter how well I get acclimated, because of the color of my skin, I can only ever be a catracha at heart.

Meanwhile, today has been very good. I am quite joyful and am reminded of many beautiful things. On my flight here, I was reminding myself that I am in God's hands. Then God gave me a fantastic mental image--the terrain below me at that time was green rolling hills and ridges with streaks of rivers and roads. So much like the palm of a jolly, green, giant hand. It was a fun thought to think of myself nestled amidst the hill ridges of His skin, the road wrinkles of his flesh, and the river creases of His palm.

Yesterday, we had a fresh and comforting rain in the evening. The sound of rain on a tin roof is wonderful. I looked out at the mountain that towers above Villa Vieja, and I noticed a thick fog. It reminded me of my all-too-familiar favorite song, "Waiting for My Real Life to Begin" by Colin Hay: On a clear day, I can see. . .see for a long way. Well, it's no longer a clear day for me. I can barely see two feet in front of me, but that doesn't make the day any less beautiful. And so I live moment by delicious moment.

I have continued reading Elisabeth Elliot's book, Passion and Purity, and I have found it to be very helpful. Below are only a few of my favorite excerpts:
"My heart was saying, 'Lord, take away this longing, or give me that for which I long.' The Lord was answering, 'I must teach you to long for something better.'"
(from T.C. Upham's Inward Divine Guidance) "The disposition . . . to leave the dearest objects of our hearts in the sublime keeping of the general and unspecific belief that God is now answering our prayers in His own time and way, and in the best manner, involves a present process of inward crucifixion which is obviously unfavorable to the growth and even the existence of the life of self."

I also wish to tell you how much I love my family here. I live at the Eagle's Nest (for more info, go to www.mehonduras.org) with Aunt Sara and Aunt Sally, two strong-willed widows who I love very much along with the girls. It is no accident that I am surrounded perpetually by women--strong ones at that. Sally speaks her mind freely (a liberty she claims at the insistence of age--she's in her seventies). And Sara is a Nicaraguan fireball. She doesn't take anybody's nonsense, and she can call anyone out for anything at the drop of a hat. She's not afraid to state what needs to be said, but she does so with sharp wisdom and maternal tenderness. I admire that. Meanwhile, I also live with strong girls, most of whom have escaped the abuse of men.
I love our "buen provechos" at every meal. I love watching Jeopardy with Sara and Sally, as Sally and I try to answer, and Sara looks at us like we're crazy. I love listening to Quendy and Mayra sing "La Nina de Tus Ojos" loudly. They are His daughters, undoubtedly. I love Blanca's rabid snore at night. I love the mother-daughter interactions between Sara and Diana. I love Mayra's mile-a-minute Spanish, and her insistence today that I am a part of her new family. I love Quendy's spontaneous hugs, and Blanca's eye-rolling jokes. I enjoy our girly primping (with our cold water bucket bathing) and shared struggles as women. I love the power of femininity that I see in them. It is encouraging to be surrounded by them at this time.

My girls and I had an honest conversation today that I thought was funny just because of who all was in earshot. We were all sitting at the kitchen table as they worked on homework. Quendy looked up at me and asked me if I had a boyfriend. I said no. All of the girls at the table gasped and looked at me like I was a crazy person. Mayra apparently didn't understand because she asked me my boyfriend's name. No lo tengo. What? Why? They asked. I just laughed and shook my head, but they persisted. How are old are you? Twenty-one. Twenty-one? With no boyfriend? (Apparently, I am an old maid.) I started laughing, and I said that I didn't have a boyfriend because I only want the person that God has for me. Sweet little Mayra said, "Who is that?" I started laughing again. Blanca then insisted that I do have a boyfriend--and she pointed above. And in this innocent movement, she is correct. I so love my girls; they strengthen my heart.

This conversation echoes some of the words of Elisabeth Elliot as well:
"If your goal is purity of heart, be prepared to be thought very odd." Ain't that the truth. With that thought, I am reminded of a funny day in Mexico. On two occasions in one day, my oddities were brought to light. In my grammar class, we were asked to use the subjunctive tense to describe our ideal man. Let's just say that my ideals were strikingly different from those of my fellow female classmates. It was after that day that my professor, Daniel, starting calling me the "good girl" of the class. Thanks for that further ostracization. . .it's not like I wasn't weird enough as it is. :) Then, in my conversation class, our theme was the history of the kiss. We were asked during the conversation to share the story of our first kiss if we felt comfortable to do so. I politely refused (for the simple reason that I don't have one). At some point in life, due to the social pressures of peers, it would have been difficult to admit this. But, at this age, this is a not a fact of which I am ashamed. I get that it seems homeschool--perhaps being homeschooled has contributed to this fact of me. I don't know. Please understand though that it doesn't have to do with legalism or rigid morality. All that I know is that I have always been the kind of person who is typically governed by logic. Even in the perilous waves of adolescence, my parents--Dad especially--always raised me to recognize that I could control my emotions, that they were fickle, and that I did not have to be at their mercy. With this in mind, I soon recognized in myself a tendency to be excruciatingly loyal and not someone that lets go of people easily. Thus, I knew early on that I was not about to engage in a "for funzies" relationship that would only lead to unnecessary heartbreak. And, as a result, I was spared a lot of unnecessary heartache. I suppose as a combination of many components--my upbringing, my personality, my own fears, my stubborn nature, etc.--I am who I am in this realm. I have wanted and have chosen to wait for "the real thing" for a long time now. I genuinely only want the person that God has for me. For the most part, I am not one for compromise or settling although, like any human, I've had my screw ups. I have learned over the years that a real marriage that lasts--one that is God-ordained between people that are first and foremost seeking and fulfilled by Him, hand-picked, and coordinated at precisely the right time and in the right way--is nothing short of a miracle. With that said, I also think it is completely possible. But, as it says in Zechariah, "These things only come about by My Spirit." So, perhaps, I shouldn't be this honest. But this is voluntary reading after all, and I'm just trying to be real. I'm a saver--I always have been. I hoarded birthday and Christmas money for years, and my family used to pick on me when I was a kid for my candy stash that included 2-year-old Easter peeps and flaking chocolate that tasted funny. I suppose that I treasure the ability to make even the tiniest things in life sacred. This child-like tendency gives life even more joy. After all, something you've waited for extensively is much more precious than something easily obtained. This realm of life is no different.

So with these admissions out of the way, I will leave you with a song I've come to greatly enjoy:
The Valley Song by Jars of Clay
You have led me to the sadness
I have carried this pain
On my back, bruised and broken
I'm crying out to You

I will sing of Your mercy
That leads me through valleys of sorrow
To rivers of joy

When death, like a gypsy
Comes to steal what I love
I will still look to the heavens
I will still seek Your face

But I fear You aren't listening
Because there are no words
Just the stillness and the hunger
For a faith that is Yours

I will sing of Your mercy
That leads me through valleys of sorrow
To rivers of joy

Hallelujah, hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah

While we wait for a rescue
With our eyes tightly shut
Face to the ground, using our hands
To cover the fatal cut

Though the pain is an ocean
Tossing us around, around, around
You have calmed greater waters
And higher mountains have come down

I will sing of your mercy
That leads me through valleys of sorrow
To rivers of joy

Sporting braids and slurping cold milk,
Sarah

Back to Sleep

I love the smell of a new journal. Mmmm. Fresh, clean pages not littered with feelings or thoughts, quotations or words. No bleeding ink marks. Fresh smells of manufactured paper and the glue of the binding are welcoming for me. I finished my last little journal this morning--a purple one that was a birthday gift from Mama Cheryl. As of May 17, I have been journaling (more or less) consistently for a year. What a good journey it has been, and I am glad that this is a habit I've developed. It has been so nice to revisit old memories, old struggles, and old prayers. Some of them remain the same while others seem so trivial now. I wish I had last summer's journals with me. I intended to bring them, but as I was trying to shed luggage poundage and embrace the new adventure before me, I left them at home. It would be nice to have them now just on the off-chance that my own words from the past would be comforting to me. But I suppose that even these would be a substitute for just seeking God alone right now in this moment and this place.

Last night, we went to church (Roy, me, Kevin--mi hermanito who I have missed so much!--, and the girls from the Eagle's Nest). As a side note, the girls from the Eagle's Nest are my saving grace in many ways. They readily love on me and feel so much like my sisters. They allow me into their home, their room, and their lives with such ease that they revive the idea of Honduras as home. Kendi (who now actually chooses to spell her name "Quendy") hugs me the most as she remembers our last summer together, and I love sharing laughing glances with her that give me some release. Blanca and Diana tend to keep to themselves, but they, too, were here last summer and are very dear to me. Finally, there is Mayra--a precious soul who talks a mile a minute in Spanish (so I catch all of five words if that) and is a tiny little girl although she is 15-years-old. I love her as she has become like a little security blanket to me in situations where I feel like I'm drowning in my own emotions. She is my right-hand friend who sits with me at church and welcomes me to the world every morning. I am so grateful for her.

Anyway, we went to church last night, and Pastor Marcus started talking about making unselfish choices, bringing each decision to God who sees the bigger picture rather than automatically taking the best for ourselves. Good word. Good reminder for me of how I need to serve, even those that cause my heart the most ache.

After church, Roy needed help with some English. His brother, Nahum, is taking an intermediate English class and made arrangements for Roy to take a placement test into that class. Roy wanted to take the basic class originally but just didn't have time. As we were going over present tense, negative sentences in the present tense, and the present progressive tense, I realized just how difficult English is. There seems to be no method to the madness, and teaching it next week is going to be wildly interesting. I'm not even remotely prepared. Roy has a really great level of English reading comprehension, but he hasn't had grammar instruction since high school. Since he's 23, it's been quite a while, and he was really struggling. To be honest, I think he decided not to take the test after we talked because I told him that he needs the structure of learning the tenses and not just from piecing it together from his brother's worksheet. If I had more time, I could teach him without any problems. He is smart, and he learns quickly. But, languages need to be learned in stages, so even if he passed the test, he'd be lost at the intermediate level. It was an interesting experience. I do like to teach. I feel like my experiences at Shepherd have left a bad taste of teaching in my mouth in general, but there is still a part of me that greatly enjoys the challenge of teaching.

After we were done with that, he left, and I went to bed around 11. By 12:30 AM, I was wide awake for no apparent reason. So, I e-mailed my mom, prayed, and waited for sleep. I have no idea why I'm having such a hard time sleeping here. Eating has also been a bit of a challenge although I have been recently reminded of how much I love the delicious simplicity of rice, beans, and mantequilla. I was doing all right this morning. Roy and I took two of the girls to Casitas Kennedy so that they could go to classes. Later that morning, though, the roller coaster once again commenced, so I escaped to my room to revamp my suitcases and sort through my teaching supplies. While trying to stay busy, I started listening to Alli Rogers' song "Nothing to Cry About." Ironically enough, it was listening to this song that released a good, yet needed, cry. The lyrics were very appropriate:
Nothing to Cry About by Alli Rogers
There's nothing to cry about tonight
All your thoughts are brave
But they make you tired
It's only us and the world is small and new
Like I don't know anything
But how I'm in love with you

I'll hold you when the nights get long
I'll hold you when the times get tough
I'll love you when you've had too much
And love you when you can't get enough
Baby, close your eyes
'Cause we are in the angels' keep
Push your worries all aside
And let me rock you back to sleep

There's nothing to cry about tonight
It's not your job to know if everyone's all right
Let me tell you how perfect you are to me
And we're all that matters now as far as I can see

I'll hold you when the nights get long
I'll hold you when the times get tough
I'll love you when you've had too much
And love you when you can't get enough
Baby, close your eyes
'Cause we are in the angels' keep
Push your worries all aside
And let me rock you back to sleep
Back to sleep

That song was perfect for me because I imagined God singing it to me. I think I have forgotten the reality of the depth of God's love. It's amazing, really. Meanwhile, what stuck with me was the idea of sleep--not so strange for someone who is rather sleep-deprived and exhausted at the moment. Last summer, I prayed that God would just put me to sleep in His will. . .that I wouldn't be looking for certain things or making plans because I just wanted to take the time to be in love with Him. Today, with this song, I was reminded of this prayer. And I can think of nothing better than allowing God to rock me back to sleep because I am so tired of my own thoughts and struggles. Like a lamb caught in a fence, I've only exhausted myself by struggling against the wires, and I've only gotten myself deeper in captivity. So, asleep in trust it is!

God is definitely dealing with me here. This morning I was reading in Matthew 10:
If you don't go all the way with me, through thick and thin, you don't deserve me. If your first concern is to look after yourself, you'll never find yourself. But if you forget about yourself and look to me, you'll find both yourself and me.
And Matthew 11:
Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me--watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly.

Furthermore, I started reading Elisabeth Elliot's Passion and Purity for about the millionth time. Oddly enough, I already knew before I left that it would be a very helpful book during this phase of life. In it, she references the story of Abraham being asked by God to sacrifice Isaac. Wildly appropriate for me right now. God is asking me to give up the very things that He has given me. How much do I love Him? How much do I trust Him and His best? In the book, Elliot references a book by Lilias Trotter called Parables of the Cross:
The fair new petals must fall, and for no visible reason. No one seems enriched by the stripping. And the first step into the realm of giving is a like surrender--not manward but Godward: an utter yielding of our best. So long as our idea of surrender is limited to the renouncing of unlawful things, we have never grasped its true meaning: that is not worthy of the name for "no polluted thing" can be offered.
She also includes a quotation from Ruth Stull:
If my life is to be broken when given to Jesus, it is because pieces will feed a multitude, while a loaf will satisfy only a little lad.
S. D. Gordon was also featured:
Steadfastness, that is holding on;
patience, that is holding back;
expectancy, that is holding the face up;
obedience, that is holding one's self in readiness to go or do;
listening, that is holding quiet and still so as to hear.
I ask that God would lead me in doing all of them. And although my heart echoes Elisabeth Elliot's question of "How long, Lord, must I wait?" I also hear His same answer to her: "Never mind, child. Trust me."

And, in the spirit of hilarity, I have decided to include some early labor advice for birthing mothers because it makes me laugh and is awkwardly relevant.
"Things to Do in Early Labor" by Robin Elise Weiss
"Early labor is often a time when people panic. It's not that they are experiencing a lot of pain from contractions, it's simply that they don't know what they should be doing and work themselves up. . . . When a mom becomes anxious early on in her labor it really sets the tone. This can mean that labor may be longer or more painful because of the mother's inability to relax."
"Sources of Unnecessary Pain in Childbirth"
"Many women become obsessed with timing . . . For some, there is a fear that if you do not pay attention, you may miss something. Some of the signs of progress in labor can be subtle, but you will not miss the major signs. When contractions begin, ignore them and go about your day for as long as you can. When the contractions demand more attention, give them only as much as they demand. . . . Don't waste your energy by paying attention too early."

I hope, quite sincerely, that you are laughing with me. Life is infinitely better when not taken too seriously.

:D Sarah

Excuse Me While I Get Naked

Hello All,
Well now has come the inevitable point where I choose to sugarcoat or be real with you, my readers. I pretty much guessed that at some point I would have to make a tough call as to what should be public reading and what I should keep to myself, but the more I look at it, the more I realize that if I can be transparent in the times that are sunny and golden (or at least in the past and thus easier to bear in retrospect), I should also be transparent in times of struggle. I am a human after all. I have been avoiding updating because I don't really want to face truth and because I don't know what to say exactly. So, deep sighing. . .here it goes.

I have been here for two and a half days now, and I mildly feel as if the rug has been yanked from under me. It's disheartening and sobering to say the least. For any of you that know me (whether intimately or merely as an acquaintance), you know that for the past several years (since 2007 really), I have been obsessed with Honduras. Even that seems like an understatement. When I came here for the first time, I immediately felt like it was home; I felt called here. And that trip completely changed my life--my ideas of the future, my conviction of what God had in store for me, and the desires of my heart. Every time I have been in Honduras, I have learned so much about myself, God's nature, and His plans. This trip--my fourth--is no exception. Everyone that knows me automatically associates me with Honduras, and any time someone wants to talk about what's most important to me, in addition to God, Honduras is always in the mix.

I knew that this summer would be a bit different. I'm only here with Manos Extendidas for 19 days in total, and I don't really have a concrete "purpose" in being here at least until my volunteer position. Furthermore, I knew it would be different because Alvin and his family are in the States for the entire summer--I'm not likely to see them at all this summer. However, God guided me to this place, so I know that He has a purpose even when I can't see it.

So, now that I've been skirting for a few paragraphs, let me just get naked and be real: I am struggling here in a way that I did not expect. I knew at some point that I was going to have to lose Honduras--or at least what it has come to mean to me. I constantly say that Honduras is home while that quiet Voice in the back of my mind every time says, "But, Sarah, I am your home." I know that realistically as Christians, we don't have homes. We weren't called to fit into a culture or lifestyle here. This is difficult for me. It was difficult when I first realized this fact when I left home after I graduated to work in North Carolina, and it's difficult now. Honduras had been my saving grace from the scary fact that the only home I really have is in God's will. But, now, it is not. It is difficult to describe, and I'll likely skip the details, but I am reaching a place where I am questioning everything and realizing that I have no concrete answers--only a Father who loves me who I know I can trust. It is hard to be stripped of the very thing that captured your heart, of the very place that made God real for you. But I know that it is a necessary refining.

I knew that this summer was going to be one of exceptional stretching. . .but the reality of this stretching is unbelievable. I am learning, quite literally, to surrender to God every second of every day, taking each moment as an opportunity--far greater even, a necessity--of dependence on God. It is incredibly painful because I feel as if I am losing everything--my home, my security, and several concrete ideas of my future. And what I am left with demands that I be vulnerable and honest, sharing openly when all I want to do is run away or build walls of protection so that I won't get hurt.

If we are going back to the pregnancy word and metaphor, I am most definitely in labor. This isn't even just a spiritual thing any more. I am having difficulty sleeping. I don't really feel like eating because I just feel a dull sickness--a weight more than anything, like someone is constantly sitting on me. And I am an emotional wreck, about to burst into tears at any moment--often the most ridiculous moments. I wonder how pregnant, birthing women do it--bare it all for the sake of their child. When you're in labor, I am told, you end up doing things involuntarily in front of others that you would never choose to do in any other circumstance. You lose all dignity. Well, in a matter of speaking, that's where I am as well. I've never been good at hiding anything, but I am especially now unable to maintain my composure. Realistically, it's pretty hilarious. Personally, it's mortifying.

God's words are still true though. He is still showing me things even if they seem so foreign from what I would have expected. He keeps saying "many nations." He keeps echoing impending roots--where, now, I have no idea. Once again, I am back in Isaiah 26: We're in no hurry, God. We're content to linger in the path sign-posted with your decisions. . . . O God, they begged you for help when they were in trouble, when they were in so heavy they could barely whisper a prayer. I am also back to my old friend, Romans 8: We're also feeling the birth pangs. These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance. . . . Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God's Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don't know how or what to pray, it doesn't matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That's why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good. And finally Jeremiah 29 offers comfort as well: I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out--plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for. "When you call on me, when you come and pray to me, I'll listen. When you come looking for me, you'll find me. Yes, when you get serious about finding me and want it more than anything else, I'll make sure you won't be disappointed."

So, at the risk of being really transparent, I feel it appropriate to include an excerpt from my own personal journal to best express where I am:

"God, please take it all. . . . I am clueless. I know nothing. I don't want to hold onto anything. Send me wherever You desire. Let my life be poured out wherever Your will leads according to Your glory. Strip it all away. I gladly give it to You. It's just You and me. Nothing concrete except Your love. I trust You, God. I trust that whatever You have for me, however different from my own ideas, is Your best for my life and Your glory. . . .'Slow down. Take a deep breath. What's the hurry? Why wear yourself out? Just what are you after anyway?' -- Jeremiah 2 Talk about a conviction. God, I just want to be after you, waiting on You. Deal with me, God. I invite You into the intimate parts of my heart to see my worst and refine it with Your love. I have no answers. I have nothing, am nothing. I only ask in Your name for more of You and for the fruition of Your promises. . . . And so I wait. And I trust that He will keep my heart even when I feel the dangerous pain of vulnerability."

At any rate, all prayers are desperately appreciated. I'm a pretty big mess. Not that there's anything new about that. ;) Something about dependency demands brokenness. . .it's mildly disconcerting. :D

With transparent love and overwhelmed laugh-crying,
Sarah

This Is Home

Hello All,
I'll try to keep this pretty short because I'm pretty exhausted, but I figured since we have internet access at our house, I should update you all.

I had an unbelievably smooth and blessed trip to Honduras today. I thought I was going to have a heart attack on the plane because of how excited I was, but it was inevitable. I can't believe how at home I am here. It's as if I never left. Every time I get a little hint of doubt that this place is not really home, that I am only blowing it up in my mind, I get here, and I can't explain it. I'm just home.

There are so many details of today and the things that God was showing me while I was in the Mexico City airport that I could share, but I feel as if I don't even truly have the words. Let me just say that I may internally combust before this week is over. So many things have already happened today that I can't believe. . .who knows what tomorrow holds? I've only been here half a day!

Roy picked me up at the airport, and we picked up our friendship where we left off. . .as if I'd never left. And Sally and Sara have been unbelievably hospitable, and it is quite a blessing to be sharing a bedroom with Mayra, Blanca, and Kendi--the girls at the Eagle's Nest. Tomorrow, I'm going to church, and once again, I'm pretty sure I'm going to combust. God is so very good. There are no words to express His grandeur, no acts of worship that can demonstrate His immeasurable perfection, no tears fluid enough to show the depth of my gratitude. He is all that I want.

With ecstatic love,
Sarah

Fútbol!

Today was the opening game of the 2010 World Cup--between Mexico and South Africa. Naturally, being in Mexico, it was a game to watch. I came to school, took my test (that our professor rushed us through), and went to watch the game that they were showing on campus. There is nothing like taking in a soccer game in another country while that country´s team is playing. While it is not so much the case in the US, soccer is massively important to the majority of the world. It always excites me to see how people come together to watch the game, donning their country´s colors and cheering extravagantly. Today was no exception, and although the game resulted in a tie, I did have the joy of watching Mexicans celebrate whenever their team scored. Watching the game really made me miss playing. There is nothing like the adrenaline rush that comes when the ball is barrelling down the field in your direction.

It is amazing how soccer unites the world. Although it´s only a game, it stands for so much more to people in other countries. It´s a matter of national pride and solidarity. While I did enjoy the game today, I can´t help but cheer for my own home--Honduras. They play on June 16, and I am utterly thrilled that I will be there, wearing my jersey, to watch the game with all my catrachos.

Meanwhile, today has been a very good last day. I got hugs from both of my Maggies and yet another lecture from Daniel about how Leigh Ann and I are boring because we never go out. I hope to stay in touch with people that I´ve met during this experience. And, as is the case with Jamaica, I carry a piece of Mexico with me and hope to return some day. It truly is a beautiful country with lovely people.

And tomorrow, it is off to Honduras! I can´t even contain myself. I don´t think it has truly hit me yet that I am returning to my home after nearly a year of absence. Everything in terms of what will transpire when I get there, what God wants to teach me, etc. is a veiled mystery, but one that I welcome with open arms. I will leave Coco´s house tomorrow at 5 AM by taxi, and I will arrive at the Mexico City airport aound 7. My flight leaves at 9. I have a 48 minute (yikes!) layover in Guatemala where I will change carriers. Finally, I am supposed to arrive in Honduras by noon where Roy will pick me up from the airport. Who knows if all of this will actually go as planned? Yet, I know that God is in control of it all, so I will get there when I get there. Prayers for safe travels for me and Leigh Ann both are greatly appreciated.

Thanks for reading of my adventures and lessons thus far in the journey. Once I get to Honduras, it is likely that internet access will be much more limited, so I have no real concept of how often I´ll be able to update. But, I will do my best!

Viva México (but home to Honduras),
Sarah

Soledad

Hello All,
Well, it has been a while since I last posted, so I should probably give you an update on some of our excursions. As a means of celebrating our last week and also for the purpose of trying food outside of our host house, Leigh Ann and I went on Tuesday to the centro to eat at La India Bonita, a very Mexican restaurant with a beautiful environment and phenomenal food. We decided to share some guacamole, and I can say without a doubt that it was the best I've ever had. They also brought us some delicious rolls that were baked with cream cheese inside. For dinner, Leigh Ann ate chile relleno which looked very good, and I had their typical dish that included all the Mexican signatures--steak, beans, rice, fried plantains, a chicken enchilada with mole, and a chicken enchilada verde. Everything was so delicious! I always have a hard time remembering what to order when it comes to drinks because nonalcoholic drinks are often unlisted, so when Leigh Ann ordered tea, I did as well. It came with ice, and I made a joking comment about whether or not the ice would be safe (after I'd already downed a glass, of course). Well, while I was fine and didn't get sick at all, the result for Leigh Ann wasn't quite as harmless. I suppose I have built up an iron stomach over the past couple years. Following our restaurant adventure, we walked around the centro so that Leigh Ann could buy some things and then took a taxi home.

Yesterday, Leigh Ann and I went to Tepoatzlan, a little town not too far from Cuernavaca that has a pyramid in the mountains. Apparently, the climb to the pyramid is a beast for the conquering, but we were quite tired and, thus, opted to stay in the little town exploring the market and eating odd flavors of nieves (more or less ice cream). We first toured a church and an ex-convent though. The ex-convent for Franciscan monks has to have been the most peaceful building I think I've ever encountered. It was free of furniture and the architecture played with light and sound in a beautiful way. Simplicity is an astounding beauty. After the church, we ventured with a group from Tennessee to the market. The group was full of lovely people, and I enjoyed getting to know them. We ate in the open-air market (covered by tarps hanging from ropes) called a tianguis which really reminded me of the giant market in Comayaguela, Honduras. There were all kinds of things for sale--fresh produce, meat, huge chicharrones (fried pork skins), typical food, flowers, spoons, dresses, etc. I love markets like those because it's a community of people, and you can find anything you could possibly want for quite a cheap price. Because we hadn't had lunch, I decided to eat with the group at a little stand in the market. José Luis, our adorable tour guide, had mentioned how rico he thought itacas were, so I tried one. It was essentially two thicker tortillas with cheese and cream between them. It was pretty good although simple. The director of the group wanted them to try quesadillas with flor de calabaza, squash flowers, because it's a pretty typical Mexican food. They tried it, and one of the boys didn't want half of his, so he offered to let me eat it. I did so gladly and found that I really liked it. The flower itself tasted a bit like okra. After this lunch, we wandered over to a ice cream shop that sells famous nieves of various crazy flavors. They had so many that included things like--corn, avocado, coconut with chile, horchata, rum, tequila, and all kinds of various fruits. I tried four flavors--rice, guanábana, coconut, and tamarindo. They were all very good. I have been told that tamarindo is an acquired taste, but I love anything tamarindo-flavored. Anyway, we were supposed to go to an ex-hacienda of Cortés, but the other group took too long climbing down the mountain, so we just went back to Cuernavaca. We didn't really mind because we were pretty exhausted.

Overall, it was a lovely experience. The mountains in Tepoatzlan are phenomenal. They tower overhead, jetting into the sky, and are carved cliffs adorned with greenery. Meanwhile, the town is, I suppose, what I would consider a hippie town. The people there are known for having odd beliefs about extra-terrestrials, cosmic energy, and the like. With its eccentricities, it was charming, and in its own odd way, reminded me of Shepherdstown.

Today was quite a good day as well. I enjoy my grammar class with my new friends, Maggie Uno and Maggie Dos--two delightful ladies who go to Gonzaga. Although I doubt they realize it, I appreciate their accepting nature very much, and I loyally adopt anyone with whom I can share an unbridled laugh (which includes them). They let me ramble about Honduras, and they may even decide to come visit me there once I get settled. I feel very blessed to have met them.

In my grammar class, we are reading El Principito, or The Little Prince. It is a very good book, and we use it as a means of sparking deep conversations--which naturally, I am drawn to more so than any superficial discussion. Our topic today struck a chord with me and lingered throughout the day as it came up in my second class as well--loneliness, solitude, and the ability to enjoy being alone. Our professor, Daniel, talked about the difficulties of being mentally alone--although surrounded by a crowd physically, feeling completely alone in one's spirit. He described this as the worst kind of loneliness there is. For me, however, while I know the trials of this kind of loneliness, and I won't dispute its implicated difficulty, I have found that the times that I have been the most internally lonely are the times when I undoubtedly grow the most. Naturally, there is a choice in this kind of solitude, just as there is when we're physically alone. We can either choose to face ourselves and God, or we can fill the silence--internal and external--with distractions. Daniel was also telling us the importance of taking some time to be alone and undistracted while traveling since he firmly believes that situations of travel are the times when we are likely to grow the most--because we're out of our comfort zones and have no one else to rely on but ourselves. Or, in my beliefs, God. Having experienced this firsthand, I know it to be true.

This theme of thought continued in my second class--my last day of literature--with a casual conversation in Spanish with my professor. We began by talking about traveling in general and moved on toward a discussion of being alone. Both of us share a need for time to get away and be alone, and we both consider ourselves to be pretty introverted although we aren't afraid of people or social situations. We discussed how society does not teach us to enjoy being alone--the subliminal messages are always geared toward someone else completing you. We both agreed that another person never has this ability, or responsibility, for that matter. For me, having grown up with female peers that constantly have to have boyfriends, I think it is sad that women tend to never allow themselves the time to develop their own identities without a man or to learn to be satisfied with being alone. I'm not men-bashing by any means, but too many women--or people in general--attach themselves to someone else just because they are afraid of being alone. The expectation, then, is that the other person can ease the internal loneliness, but that simply is not the case. Thus, we put too much pressure on the relationship and doom it to fail in some cases.

There is a great importance in learning not only to be alone--what to do with one's time, etc.--but also how to truly enjoy being alone. It's not easy because silence and being alone inevitably lead to a choice of distractions or a choice of dealing with pain that's easier when left buried. I have taken both routes in times of loneliness, and I can assure anyone that the path of allowing God to unearth deep roots of destruction in our character is infinitely better than avoiding His all-seeing gaze.

As a result of these conversations, I realized that I truly have learned how to enjoy being alone. I have spent so much of my life since I stopped living with my family being, more or less, alone. I lived in North Carolina for a summer with no friends--merely working and spending time with my great aunt while realizing the reality that I truly had no home. While it was one of those times that I chose the road of distraction rather than brokenness, it, too, was a journey on the road to contentment. I took summer classes at Shepherd and lived with roommates I didn't know and experienced one of the most difficult internal bouts of loneliness in my life, but I can also quickly list that time as one of the most pivotal for my personal growth. I traveled to Honduras last summer and lived without the familiarities of people that I knew well and came to thrill in the idea of me and God alone. It was that summer that I felt what it means to truly be in love with God--and to know the delicacy of His wooing love for me. I traveled to Jamaica without really knowing anyone in the group from Shepherd and, once finally alone and undistracted with God, realized my need to surrender my time and validation to God once again. I have lived for the past two years with a pretty constant sense of loneliness at Shepherd just from living as a wanderer not tied to a group or significant other. And now, I have been here in Mexico--so thoroughly content. I know that many people don't understand how I have enjoyed this time of rest. I'm sure to some it seems that I have been wasting time in a new place when I could have been experiencing new things, but there is a time and place for everything. And, in this time and this place, the road I felt led to travel was one without my normal tone of busyness. Unlike in past times, it is not that I am afraid to explore; it is only the desire to be obedient to God´s leading--which in this case was rest. Plus, I don´t believe that this is the last time I will be going to Mexico. I have enjoyed this sunny waiting room and feel deeply blessed by the privilege I've had in being here. I may not know all the intricate purposes of God's plans and details, but I love engaging in the mystery of His leading and the privilege of blindly following. And I am so grateful to now understand that I have reached a place where I can be just as content (and in some cases more so) with simply being alone with God as I can being surrounded by those that I love. I am happy in any place, really, and I have learned that no matter what happens in life, that if I am walking in God's will, I can trust that He is giving me His best. Thus, those situations that seem bad or difficult, suffering-inducing or tragic, are His best for my character and for His Kingdom, and in the end, it will all be worked for His good.

With this realization, I now also patiently wonder when the time draws near for completely learning how to be joined with someone else, the art of sharing. While we weren't extremely close before we came, I now feel as if Leigh Ann and I are family. We basically share everything, and this is a dynamic that deeply blesses me. It warms my heart that she feels comfortable using or having anything of mine and doesn't have to worry about asking. (It reminds me of what I believe God wants our relationship with Him to be. He's wants to share and lavish His best on us without reservations.) I am grateful that she has such an open, willing heart that she shares with me as well--life stories, possessions, food, and memories. I love that she can look at me at the dinner table, and I can know--without any words--that she wants half of my piece of bread. I love that she reminds me to put on sunscreen, and when she's done drinking from her water bottle, she automatically holds it out to me for a drink. While I don't necessarily know her opinion on the matter, I can't help but believe that God orchestrated our being here together and paved the way for our friendship because, for me, it has probably been the most precious part of this trip. And, I also believe it has been its own journey on my road to learning how to share all with someone else.

While I do believe that there is a deep value in learning how to be alone with God--content in His presence and in splendid awe of His depths--I also believe that once we have reached that place, there comes a time to learn to give up this lavish solitude to share that gift with someone else. This belief is echoed by the very nature of Jesus. He was already in a place of perfect unity with God. He enjoyed His presence and thrived in the joy of their solitude. But, He was also obedient when God sent Him forth to share that gift with others. Solitude with God was still His lifeblood when He was on earth as He often got away from others to pray and be alone with God, but He willingly went forth into utter despair and loneliness, away from the comfort and love of the Father, so that others could get real with God and experience His solitude and love. This is the road that I know I am called to walk very soon. I now believe that I understand what it was that I was waiting for before all of His promises could come to fruition--a true security and contentment in His solitude. And now, I welcome the opportunity to share--with unbridled abandon--with others.

With unspeakable love,
Sarah

It has been a very busy past couple of days. Yesterday, Leigh Ann and I went to Teotihuacan to see the Aztec pyramids. We saw and climbed the Pyramids of Quetzalcoatl and the Sun. Leigh Ann was rather afraid of heights (and thus of climbing the Pyramid of the Sun at its whopping 246 feet), but she did so with a general ease. I was so very proud of her. We saw quite a phenomenal view from the top. It was incredibly sunny, and although we both put on spf 50 sunscreen, we both got a little burnt. It was a good day although we were quite tired when we returned although we're less sore than we expected to be.

Meanwhile, it has been unbearably hot here, hitting 100 degrees F. on a regular basis, and we don't have air conditioning here. We come home from school and usually nap because the heat just zaps our energy. This is our last week of classes, and we're both excited to go to our respective homes soon--Leigh Ann back to the US and me, of course, to Honduras.

I am so excited I can hardly contain myself. I have been waiting to return to Honduras since the day I left--July 23 of last summer. When I left, I had no idea when or how I would return, and I had already made peace with the idea that God was not going to permit me to return this summer. How I am blessed that He is allowing me to return to my beloved home! I called Roy yesterday and was just reminded of all of the precious, simple things with which I can't wait to reacquaint myself. Washing my laundry in the pila. Daily rain pounding on the tin roof. Homemade coconut paletas. Motorbike rides through city streets. The smiles of orphan babies. Hugs from Kendi. I simply can't wait. I have such a difficulty going to sleep at night because I can't stop imagining what that moment will be like when I finally touch down in Tegus again, and I wake up every morning before dawn wide-awake with excitement.

I am, however, also trying to savor these last few days in Mexico. Mexico is a beautiful country, and I like the people. I would like to return someday. I have enjoyed my time at Uninter, and I do feel that it has helped my Spanish fluency although I rather worry about what will happen when I return to the US. (I don't want to lose all my progress!)

Today, I had the same class and the same grammar professor as before. I really like the class that consists of a few other girls from Gonzaga University, and I also enjoy the professor, a young guy who likes to pick on us girls. He keeps the class captivated by involving us personally, and I enjoy that. I also have the same literature class with a professor I've had since the first week. I love that class because we have lively discussions that actually carry meaning for me. Lastly, I still have Marielle for conversation class, and she has grown accustomed to my nerdiness of never really going anywhere and not being a dancer or drinker. While I like my professors and fellow students, I am pretty burnt out on school in general. Daniel, my grammar professor, was saying today that at the level of the class I am in, there is no real reason to teach grammar because we've basically learned all that there is to know. Our main problem now is internalizing what we've learned so that we can apply it in writing and in speaking. This is the hard part because you can't really teach that. You can only facilitate practice. With this in mind, I am thrilled that I will be going to Honduras after this. I have a difficulty with talking for the sake of talking. Even in classes at Shepherd, unless I feel as if I have something of importance to say, I don't talk in class. Thus, talking here isn't any different. I am terrible at small talk and don't often offer my opinions at the drop of a hat (if I have any at all). I am ready for my practice to carry some meaning. I want to have conversations with people that carry weight and importance for both parties and aren't merely an educational obligation.

Anyway, I suppose I have probably neglected to share a little bit about our everyday lives here, so here is a breakdown of our daily routine:
I get up around 6:30 in order to shower. Since we've been closing the drain cover, as Coco directed, we haven't had any more cockroaches or scorpions. No more cockroach dance in the shower with Fernando. We get ready for classes and go down to breakfast at 7:30. Without fail, we begin our breakfast by telling Coco hello and good morning and by eating fruit of some variety--mango, watermelon, bananas and kiwi, apples with yogurt, or papaya with lime and sugar. Then we have any variety of breakfast foods here--eggs and beans, bread with beans and cheese, pancakes, French toast, etc. For every meal, the baby television is on, and we laugh over ridiculous morning shows, unbelievable international dance competitions, and crazy telenovelas where the same girl almost gets raped by the same guy every time and the mother of the loca lady looks like a lion. There's one show called "Llena de Amor" or "Full of Love" about a fat girl who is played by an actress who is quite skinny in reality and who wears a fat suit to fit the part--except that they don't add any "fat" to her face which just looks silly.

Anyway, then, Coco takes us to class, meandering through terrible traffic. There must be 25 different ways to get to her house and to the school. We arrive at the school and have varying schedules. For me, there is 3 hours of grammar class, a 20 minute break, 2 hours of literature class, a 10 minute break, and one hour of conversation. Then Leigh Ann waits for me and our other housemates--Lisa, Jamila, and Brittney--and we wander out of the campus to wait for Coco to pick us up from school. We chatter about people in our classes--some that drive us crazy and some who we love to laugh with--or about our many mistakes in class that day. I'm always doing something clumsy or just ridiculous at which we enjoy laughing. When Coco comes, we return home to have lunch at 3.

Without fail, we have a soup (avocado, tortilla, carrot, vegetable, pumpkin flower, etc.), a main dish (chicken with mole, pork chops in orange sauce, enchiladas verdes, etc.) with rice or salad, and usually a dessert (manchego cheese with ate, arroz con leche, lime and coffee cookie ice cream cake, lime ice cream, etc.). We eat quite well in the afternoons. Sometimes, an adorable couple--friends of Coco--come to eat with us. Their names are Felix and Carmelita, and I absolutely love them. He is quiet and soft-spoken, but his face carries such a tender wisdom and compassion that I feel as if I could contently talk to Felix for hours. Meanwhile, Carmelita is an outgoing fireball. She is sassy and full of energy and has bright eyes full of life. In short, she is hilarious, and I can interact with her as if we were family. They both speak a little English, and Carmelita has no problems correcting our Spanish mistakes. Carmelita also has no problems calling us out on various embarrassing aspects of life, but that's another story for another time. What I love about them--aside from their sweet and accepting nature--is how very much in love they still are after more than 30 years of marriage. It blesses me greatly to know that they do everything together without tiring of one another, and when Felix looks at Carmelita, I can still see that he adores her (even when he thinks she's being outlandish). As cursi (Spanish for cheesy) as it may sound, that kind of enduring sharing of life between two people is absolutely beautiful to me, and I find myself desiring the same one day.

After lunch, Leigh Ann and I retreat to our room where we talk about the day or things in the US or whatever, usually laughing often. I so love Leigh Ann and how we've managed to become good friends as a result of this experience. I love that we're comfortable enough with each other to be real and pick on each other and call each other out for our nonsense. I will miss having her around whenever I go to Honduras. In addition to talking, we often nap to escape the heat although we pretty much perpetually feel gross. We do homework and get online, and I often read. Right now, I'm still reading that Mother Theresa book along with The Soloist which is very good thus far. Last week, I finished Persuasion which was an odd pick for me, but one that had parts I enjoyed nonetheless. We play with Monina, the poodle. Sometimes, we venture to the Superama, but most of our time is just spent en casa which I don't really mind.

To end the day, we descend downstairs to eat cena at 9--a light dinner. This can consist of anything from pancakes to sandwiches to hotdogs with cheese to nachos to pozole. We also usually have licuados or smoothies at this time--chocolate milk, strawberry milk, mamey and milk, etc. Licuados are my favorite although I enjoy most of the food here. We visit with Coco and the other girls for a while and then once again climb the stairs to do homework, call our families with Skype, or just talk until we fall asleep. As of now, it is raining--a welcome sound for me as it at least makes the mornings cooler--and I am thankful to be here. Once again, I'm overwhelmed by the depth of God's love that He would permit me to be in such a beautiful place, and I grin with anticipation for the marvelous things to come that exist up His sleeve and out of my sight. God's surprises are always the best.

With Love,
Sarah

Plata and Punches

Hello Everyone,
It has been a long but rather epic day. Today was our excursion to Taxco, an adorable town known for its silver mines and silver handicrafts and jewelry. We went with our university here and toured an ex-convent, a Catholic cathedral, and the town center with the silver shops. It is a truly charming place--perhaps more so than Cuernavaca. There are cobble-stone streets that are very narrow, and very few cars are permitted to drive in the downtown area--there are primarily only Volkswagon bugs that serve as taxis. Mosaics are scattered around the town, and all of the buildings are required to be white with red-orange roofs. It's a beautiful place with a thriving zocalo, and the view was truly breath-taking. It's a peaceful place nestled in the heart of mountains.

We had a long drive there, and when we arrived to Taxco, our guide stopped at a silver shop so that we could hear an explanation of how to tell whether the silver we were considering purchasing was real or not. It was at this silver shop that I had my first drink of alcohol more or less by accident. On the way there, our school guide had told us that there is a signature drink in Taxco that is similar to a margarita without the ice. When we arrived at the silver shop, we were given baby glasses with what we later guessed was just such a drink. I suppose it makes for a good story. Nothing too epic, really.

We then traveled to the center of the town and visited an ex-convent where we heard a little about the processions of Semana Santa. Every Holy Week, they have processions of 40 minutes to 4 hours where people carry wooden crosses, walk holding burning candles while chains adorn their legs, have someone beat them, or carry large, spiked logs tied to their arms. This is all meant to be a penance or a ceremonial suffering for Jesus as part of Catholicism.
Following this ex-convent, which served as a meeting place during the Mexican revolution and was adorned with numerous pictures of saints and Jesus figures, we toured the Cathedral of St. Sebastian or St. Prisca. (It has two names.) It is a huge building with several altars all covered in gold leaf. There were numerous paintings and phenomenal architectural structures inside and outside the Baroque building. Aside from the inescapable gold everywhere, I also marveled at the placement of the pulpit--hovering high over the congregation. There's a lot I could say on these subjects, but I suppose my main thought was just how very deceived we humans are by religion--the very thing we think will save us.

After these tours, we had some free time to shop for silver in the various stores surrounding the zocalo. I hate shopping. There's no real way around it. I don't like being followed by vendors or guilted into buying something I don't really want. I don't like being stared at while I'm considering an item. I'm not an impulsive person--especially when it comes to purchases. Thus, I need unadultered time to make decisions; otherwise, I merely escape the situation, buying nothing. Needless to say, while I did purchase a few small items, I found the shopping experience more stressful than really necessary.

On our way back, in a city "too dangerous to go to," we witnessed our first and only bit of violence. As we were driving down the highway, we noticed on the side of the road that a taxi had rear-ended another car. The driver and passengers (we're guessing) of the car were very angry and were yelling at the taxi driver. He was verbally retaliating until one of the three men landed a stiff punch to his jaw. It was a solid blow, but it didn't seem to affect him too much. It did, however, knock some common sense into him because he climbed back into his car--likely realizing that three men versus one seldom provides very good odds. So, yes, big bad Cuernavaca; it's so dangerous that we've seen all of only one instance of road rage in our three weeks of being here.

Anyway, tomorrow is yet another big day as we are going to Teotihuacan to climb Aztec pyramids (temples). I'm excited. I spent four years in high school hearing my Spanish teacher describe these places in detail, and I'm happy that I am able to see them for myself.

Meanwhile, only one week more until I go to Honduras. I am thoroughly excited although the anticipation almost makes me nervous. There are so many unknowns for the rest of the summer, and while I know that in reality I am blessed to have another great adventure, there's still that stubborn part of me that wants to figure out all of life's puzzles. But, what divine mysteries would I miss then?

Ever child-like,
Sarah

Moving to the Depths

Every time I tell someone here in Mexico that I want to live in Honduras, they all react the same--with a disgusted face and with the all-too-familiar question of ¨Why would you ever want to live there?¨ I have one professor who likes to pick on me about my attachment to Honduras, and he told me that they have a saying here that uses the word ¨Honduras¨ that translates to ¨Don´t put me in Honduras¨--that is, ¨Don´t get me into trouble.¨ The word ¨hondura¨ in Spanish literally translates into ¨depth¨; thus, Honduras equals depths. I want to move to the depths. I can´t help but laugh and feel that this is wildly appropriate for me.

Recently, I have been reminded of what true worship is and what our attitude toward God and others should be. It echoes in the life of Mother Theresa, of which I´m still reading, and it echoes in the words of Isaiah, the book in which I´ve been stuck. During a conversation with God in 1947, according to Come Be My Light, Mother Theresa felt as if God was telling her the following:
My little one--come--come--carry Me into the holes of the poor.--Come be My light.--I cannot go alone--they don´t know Me--so they don´t want Me. You come--go amongst them, carry Me with you into them.--How I long to enter their holes--their dark unhappy homes.

I know there there is a tendency to want to think of Mother Theresa as ultra-spiritual, as abnormal, demonstrating some magical, transcendental power to want to live that way. We, especially in the western world, tend to think of Mother Theresa or other missionaries and think, ¨Good for them. I could never do that.¨ I know this to be true because that was my perspective before I met Alvin Anderson and his family. I assumed that being a missionary was some supernatural calling that only the most dedicated, pious people could accomplish. But that´s simply not the case. God gave all of us the role of missionary--perhaps it is not to be a foreign missionary, but the Great Commission was given to all of Jesus´followers. It´s not just stated in the red letters; it is echoed all throughout the Bible, especially in Isaiah 61:
The Spirit of God, the Master, is on me because God anointed me. He sent me to preach good news to the poor, heal the heartbroken, announce freedom to all captives, pardon all prisoners. God sent me to announce the year of his grace--a celebration of God´s destruction of our enemies--and to comfort all who mourn.

In the western world, we tend to think that people need to come to us. We hold big events and think of marketing campaigns and logos. We build fancy churches with the most up-to-date technology so that people will be comfortable enough to come to us. We try to be politically correct and approachable so that people will come to us. But, we´re missing a basic point: God said to go into all the world and share His news. ¨Go.¨ It´s just that simple.

I went through a phase in life where I was very stuck on the manifestation of God´s tangible presence. In other words, I was immersed in the idea of God showing up, to where you could see His miracles and feel His presence. I read Tommy Tenney´s book, The Godchasers, and felt like I needed to go to church constantly expecting that He would be there. Now, years later, while that book and that message was important to me in its own time, I marvel at that belief. God´s presence is everywhere! Why do we need high concentrations of the miraculous right before our eyes when there are thousands of kinds of orchids all over the earth? Why would we need to feel the warm fuzzies of His love when He provides not only our needs but the very details of our hearts´desires? I think, like much of religion, the idea of sitting and waiting on God´s manifest presence--which to me means something tangible--is a thief of time. Don´t get me wrong--I believe that it is important to know that God invites us into His presence daily, and we are free to come to Him with the confidence that we are His beloved children. And, I also believe that there is a time that we are called to wait on Him, still and silent. But, why do we think that His presence can only descend within the four walls of a man-made church building? Why do we sit and wait to be filled and filled and filled until we´re bloated with His grace when there are people who don´t even know that He exists?

Although it is a sobering message, I think it is a drastically important one that Isaiah shares in chapter 65:
¨I´ve made myself available to those who haven´t bothered to ask. I´m here, ready to be found by those who haven´t bothered to look. I kept saying´I´m here, I´m right here´ to a nation that ignored me. I reached out day after day to a people who turned their backs on me, people who make wrong turns, who insist on doing things their own way. . . . They say, ´Keep your distance. Don´t touch me. I´m holier than thou.´
I share that scripture because I believe that we miss Him so frequently because we have God in a box of our expectations. We insist that He show Himself to be real in our ways, according to our definitions, and if He doesn´t, we doubt or become angry. And, thus, we miss Him. We say that we´re looking, but we´re doing so with our own demands. We can´t see Him because He doesn´t show Himself the way we think He should. And, I can´t help but wonder if the reason that we miss Him is because we are not being obedient to carry Him (however much we have of Him) to those who have none. We are selfish. We don´t enter the holes of the poor. We don´t visit the imprisoned. We figure it´s their job to come to us. I know that God is infinite, that there is more than enough of Him to go around. But, why should He continue to fill a people who refuse to carry Him forth to others? What sense would it make to reward disobedience?

Carrying Him to others costs us, undoubtedly. It is not an easy work, and it requires death to self daily. But being a missionary does not mean moving to some foreign land, eating weird foods, and speaking a new language. Being a missionary simply means having a heart that depends on God for everything--child-like, helpless, constantly surrendering. It is not a frenzy of action or a quota of souls to meet. I´m not endorsing zeal without wisdom or urgency without God´s guidance. I only encourage sacrifice and dependency, the sweet surrender.

Thus, I rejoice that God has called me to move to the depths. The people here ask me, ¨Isn´t it ugly there?¨ ¨Isn´t it full of poor people?¨ ¨Isn´t it too dangerous for you, a blonde, white woman, to be there?¨ And all I can do is smile because God has so graciously granted me a faith that He gives a full life in the emptiest of places. Worship is not about me. It´s not just about sitting, waiting to be filled. Worship, when the time comes and God directs, is about carrying Him to others, to the empty places so that they can be filled. And when I say as God directs, I want to make clear that we are all called to do this in some form or fashion--we don´t need to wait around on that calling because it´s already been given. What we do need to do is to seek Him so that He can teach us how to love, how to carry His spirit to others, and where.

So, with a humble heart, I ask that you pray for me because I want to selflessly carry Him into the darkest of places. I want to cheerfully move into the depths. I want to reject time-wasting selfishness and find Him where He is to be found--everywhere, and especially in the places where we are least comfortable.

With great love,
Sarah