This month finds me unexpectedly surrounded by family. Eighteen months ago, my grandfather was diagnosed with lung cancer. It's not something I've publicly talked about too much previously out of respect for the privacy of my family. Life after that diagnosis hung in the balance for my family because we didn't know what was going to happen nor when. One of the motivators for Raúl's green card process was actually my Granddad's diagnosis, and we also wrestled with the question of whether or not to get married in the States instead of Honduras. Looking back, I don't regret the decisions that we made although they haven't all turned out as expected. My Granddad had unsuccessful surgery last January, and there were complications with the anesthesia that scared us. I can still remember wrestling with God over the fear that he could pass away because of those complications when he should have been discharged after just a week. But I remember God giving me such a clear image in my head of the look on my Granddad's face when he would meet Jesus in Heaven, and while I cried for days over that, it's an image that I've carried as a source of bittersweet comfort. Thankfully, though, we had my Granddad with us until May 3 of this year. His battle with cancer, the chemo treatments and subsequent effects, the emotional reactions, and the weakness that ate away at his pride were a hard path for all of us. And, I'll confess that I don't know exactly what God was doing throughout that time, and as someone who thrives on the intellectual whys, that's hard for me. But, I don't think I've ever been prouder of how my grandmother fought for him and compassionately cared for him or of how my Mom tirelessly traveled to and from their home--a three hour drive--every week just to take advantage of his time. And, though it was so hard for my Granddad, I do trust that God was working internally in his heart, a divine preparation for Heaven that I suppose I likely can't fully understand. The last time I was here--Christmas--was hard. Every time I would have to leave after Granddad's diagnosis, I struggled with understanding the finality of never knowing which would be my last goodbye. I also really wrestled with the urge to stay in the States though eventually I didn't feel like that was necessarily the right choice. Once God gave me peace, I committed to returning to Honduras and to my husband. And, through technology, I stayed connected with my grandparents through video calls and messages. I did make sure that I left nothing unsaid, and I have no regrets.
My Granddad was a strong follower of Jesus. He was a passionate advocate for the Holy Spirit. And, we do have such a special comfort in knowing that Granddad had his salvation through Jesus and is in Heaven. I find myself thinking about Heaven a lot more and imagining my Granddad there with God, and I feel something special about knowing that my cloud of witnesses now includes someone I had such a special connection with. I also feel so privileged that I was really allowed to know Granddad. In the days surrounding his funeral, it really hit me that he was so introverted that not many people knew all of his facets. As family, I got to see his silly side and his utmost dedication to his family in ways that outsiders didn't. As someone who also requires so much time and constancy and trust to let myself be fully known by others, I see that as a true treasure.
I also feel incredibly blessed that my husband is so supportive of family and my coming here for a couple of months. And I'm grateful that God has had me in a place of flexibility so that I can be here with my family now in the States and can keep my Grandmom company as she begins to process, to feel, and to adapt. At times this year, my life has felt slow and fruitless. I have wondered how to move forward even as I feel like I'm stewarding my time and giftings better than ever. I have questioned the lack of "able men" and women to rely on in being able to expand our ministry outreach. But, now, I feel blessed for that lack, that slowness, and just the revelation that God has purposefully been less demanding of me than I am of myself because He knew that one of my greatest directions this year was just to be here and love my family well. I don't have answers or anything magically healing to say. But I am present and savoring the time.
Our family is taking it day by day. Grief comes in waves, so we take it as it comes. Some days, it's hard to believe that he's really gone. We do appreciate your prayers as invisible hands carrying us through.
I wrote in my most recent newsletter that hasn't even reached its destinations yet that we were praying for God's favor in Raúl's green card process as everything had been stalled in waiting for the government departments to send the necessary documents to commence the second step in the application. With the delay, it seemed unlikely that he would be able to come to the States this year for Christmas with me. But, just a couple days after writing that newsletter, we did receive the necessary documents. So, there is still hope (though it does seem like there are processing delays across the board) that he could make it to the States this year. So, prayers for favor are still applicable.
In terms of the ministry back home, Raúl is doing well holding the fort down as they say. All of our students are doing well, and most of them have checked in with me since I've been here. And, Raúl, never one for being alone, has had even more opportunities for discipleship of the teenage boys around us as many of them are keeping him company or staying with him at our home while I'm gone. I will say that in a lot of ways I kind of think the ministerial slowness has to do with giving Raúl a chance to master the learning curve and come into his own in ministry. And I'm proud of him and the strides of maturity that he's been making.
Before I came, on the day that I received the call from my Mom that my Granddad wasn't expected to live past that week, I was at a missionary mini-retreat with the women from my Bible study. I can't tell you how much that group of women has meant to me since I've joined their ranks. It was such a comfort to be surrounded by women who let me cry and just get the sacrifices that we make because we love God and want to serve Him but we also love our families and mourn the little and big losses with them. One of the passages of Scripture that we studied at that retreat was the one where Jethro is telling Moses that he needs to delegate some of the work to able men. And, we reflected on how that applies to our lives in ministry. I feel like I have long ago learned that I don't want to try to do it all alone. My season of ministering with no support system was so exhausting that I lost all hope, and I have committed to not going back there. But, with that said, it is so hard to find or even to disciple able men and women in Honduras. I did feel relieved listening to the other women from our group describing similar problems though, because I struggled with feeling like it was just me and perhaps I was a failure in that regard. Every year, Raúl and I feel like, "This is it! We finally have our people. We're finally going to be able to move forward with aspects of our vision that have previously been impossible for a lack of faithful people." And, every year so far, we've been disappointed when people don't follow through. Part of it is cultural--I read a study before I moved to Honduras that had conclusions that the majority of Hondurans don't trust anyone--not even family members. In a society where there are a lot of children raising children, that foundation of mature trust and boundaries and healthy family relationships are just never constructed. And what is means to be a good friend is often never taught much less experienced. Many people have never had a healthy example of a trustworthy, faithful relationship or friendship, so they have never really learned how to be trustworthy or dependable themselves--and that's true across the globe, not just in Honduras. In the culture, the concept of time and commitment are slower and more relaxed. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but they can be hurtful sometimes when perceived as disrespect. Even with my English classes, I have had people beg me for months to start a new English class for beginners, but when I finally do, which is a sacrifice of my time, they are some of the first people to drop out. The attitude toward education is often that it's optional. Parents let their fickle children decide if they want to continue into sixth grade or beyond because when their kids don't make enough effort, its precious income that is wasted. All of that has been a huge culture shock for me. I grew up in a family where if you started something, you finished it. If you borrowed something, you returned it in its previous condition in a timely manner. If you had a debt, you paid it back as first priority before buying anything unnecessary for yourself. If you committed to something, you saw it through even when you didn't really want to any more simply to be a person of your word. Saying you're going to do something and then not doing it is akin to lying in our family or at the very least being inconsiderate. So, it has been hard to not take many Hondurans' lack of commitment, word, and perseverance personally. And even so far this year, with small group and our board and how we thought things were going to go, there have been many surprises and disappointments. So, at this retreat, I found myself just telling God, "You know that I don't want to try to do it all myself. You know that it's my desire to find or even disciple and train up able men and women. But how on earth can I find them?" And, many of my missionaries reiterated my same sentiments. But, I did feel deep in my soul like God reminded me that everything that I need for fulfilling His purposes, He would provide at the right time. So, I left that retreat with a peace that it's okay that I still don't have able men or women to rely on. It's not a failure on my part or a reflection of my character. And, the season that we're in currently is still a season of sowing on various types of soil. We don't know what's going to sprout just yet, but that doesn't mean that we stop being farmers as a result.
And since I have been in the States, I have reveled in watching how gardening and nature are ingrained in my family. Seeds and planting and getting your hands dirty with earth course through our blood of values. My Granddad was a great example of that both naturally and spiritually. He led a simple life in his same hometown. He seldom traveled. He didn't ever start a church or have a large number of followers. He didn't try to be important in any arena in his life. But, he sowed seeds everywhere he was from his co-workers to Mormon missionaries on his doorstep, from his neighbors to his grandchildren and children. He served. He listened. He taught. He played. He learned. He was a great example. And, many of those seeds have yet to sprout. Some of those seeds he never saw sprout on earth. But his hand was always to the plow. His figurative and literal garden were cared for until his last strength. That humble faithfulness is a legacy I want to be content with carrying regardless of what sprouts and grows for me.
Much Love,
Sarah
