I Choose Joy

A friend asked me after our first day back if it still feels “surreal” and I think that’s exactly what I’ve been feeling. Trying to cram almost two years’ worth of life into two and half weeks back in your passport country is impossible. There were lots of people I didn’t get to see and plenty of places I didn’t go.

Perhaps the best part of living in another culture is that you are acutely aware that you’re not home yet. When I am in my home country it’s so easy to sink into the comfortable feeling of the familiar. Everything is in my language so I don’t work too hard to be understood. I can hop in a car and get to wherever I want at any time I desire. Other than that guy at the postoffice asking for a handout and claiming to be a vet, there’s very little obvious poverty. It’s a routine I’m used to and it seldom forces me out of my comfort zone. But I’m not really supposed to be “home” yet anyplace in this world. It should feel like that itchy sweater you want to take off— and make you long for something more.

Our jubliant one told me she spent the night crying before we left. I consoled her with the fact that crying means we love someone-it wouldn’t hurt to leave if we didn’t love them very  much. This month marks the second anniversary of saying “goodbye for now” to my in-laws as they started their journey in that place that will one day be home. Somedays I can relate to our youngest. A week back in the states we spent a couple nights at a hotel with my brother-in-law. She woke up crying , “I just want to go HOME.” “Which home? To Grandma’s house?” I asked. And she firmly replied, “MY home.” Multiple places that contain a piece of my heart.

Well this past Sunday two of our daughters claimed the title of Queen and one son Ambasssador. It was graduation day at church for the Mensajeres and Embajadores programs. The church makes a really big deal out of these graduations, and in all honesty they are big. Each of the kids has learned lots of scripture, invited friends to church, gone on hikes or campouts and more. We started early with getting the girls’ hair done fancy. They each had a borrowed white dress to put on after walking to church. “I look like a bride!” was Charis’ comment and this Mom was thinking, “all too soon.” We took some tiny star shaped flowers and sprinkled them through their hair as a final touch.

When we arrived there were lots of nerveous kids practicing their parts. They had the whole group do their entrance three times to make sure the pace was slow and formal. I’d been asked to take photos, which was nearly impossible with all the extra folks there to watch. We have almost 200 people each week all crammed onto a porch and overflowing into the hallway. The church is praying that building permits will be granted soon.

Each group was presented from the lower levels up to Queen. Davita read a section of her story of the life of Christ, and Charis quoted a passage from 2 Peter.Then after several more songs,  each girl was granted the title of Queen as she knelt to receive her tiara. I have to admit I’m proud of them. I struggle each week to add a new memorized verse in English and these they did in their second language. While the girls  loved dressing up, Gabe fought hard against the formal attire-pants don’t fit, sleeves too short, tie is choking, etc. etc. I think the way to torture any of our boys is to tell them they have to dress nice. (Hate to tell them Grandma has plans for a photo session with Miss Lynn.)

It’s pronounced “ah-fay” and stands for Amor, Fe y Esperanza. We spent Saturday morning there distributing gifts to about 150 kids who live and work on or around the dump. It’s our fourth year as a family of adding this to our holiday traditions. When we lived in the states we made shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child. It’s a little easier when it doesn’t all have to fit in such a small space-and SO much more fun to see the kids receive their gifts.

You smell the dump before you see the entrance. Vultures soaring high above mark the place where the most recent trash has been dumped. Our bus headed down into the little valley where AFE has a school that started more than 10 years ago when a little girl asked her pastor Dad,”What are you going to do about those kids?” after seeing them scavanging at the dump. They graduated their first class last year.

Kids poured in as we arrived. All shapes, sizes and ages. Some of the students are in their 20′s but are just learning to read. They were all excited, knowing what was ahead and we laid out snacks and popped pop corn as they found seats or plopped on the floor. Richard led us in some easy kids songs and then Harold gave his testimony (with Richard’s help) of his Dad who played Santa for several years and used it to tell the story of the Greatest Gift-Christ. A skinny dog wandered in looking for a handout. Kids sang at the top of their voices and then listened to Harold’s story. We gave out snacks and then announced the name of each child for them to come and claim their gift. Each child walked to the front amidst applause and they returned to their seat waiting patiently while everyone else received their gift. One highlight was a little guy of about 4 who walked off smiling and waving his box triumphantly over his head.  A few went unclaimed-waiting for their owners who were probably out working. Then came the big countdown and the cries as everyone opened their gifts together. Kids looked around to see other’s gifts, often helping assemble something or sharing candy. We exchanged smiles and hugs and many kids came to say “thank you.”

As kids trickled out afterward Gabe gathered a few for soccer. From far away you could hardly see the differences- clean or dirty, tall or short, dark or light skin-they were just a group of boys doing what any Central American kid does on a Saturday afternoon. As I watched them leave later I wondered what kind of situations they each returned to. One older lady I talked to was the Grandmother to 5 of the kids there. “One of my Grandsons is in the United States,” she said smiling. It’s the dream of so many to go there and have opportunity.

I am so blessed. Thanks Lord, for having the privilege to give, for smiles and laughter even among those who live a hard life, for struggles that seem so small in comparison, for my kids who were excited to see others receive,for those who live and work among these kids every day…

It’s certainly the beginning of a busy season here. Last weekend I was the photographer for our church’s third group wedding-six couples this time. It’s always so much fun to go to these events, especially now that I know some of the folks and a little more of their story.

For one man, it was the first time in his life he’s ever worn a suit-and most likely the last. I watched one of the grooms tie another’s necktie and then hand it back to be cinched up close by the wearer. The brides (and their children or grandchildren) waited nervously and giggled while I took pictures beforehand. Most of these couples have been together for a long while, but for one reason or another have never formally said their vows. Now that they are Christians, they want to do what’s right and voice their commitment before God and their church family.

The church members bring all of the food as a gift to the couples, they decorate and set up tables and chairs, and many even lend suits and wedding dresses. (The cost of the event is one of the biggest deterrents.) There’s music of all styles, from the hallelujah chorus to traditonal mariachi. And the smiles….oh how beautiful!

Thanks Lord….for the privilege of taking photos, for a beautiful chilly day, for wedding cakes decorated with marshmallow creme,for family members gathered, for memories of Our day 25 years ago…..

While over the Thanksgiving weekend many folks in the US “camped out” in front of stores to get a great buy on some toy or gadget, here we camped out as a family in our living room. We dragged mattresses out and lined them up side by side with kids laughing in disbelief, “you mean we’re ALL gonna’ camp out here?” It was a chilly evening for Honduras, dipping below 60 (and realize that we don’t have heat and the cement walls magnify that cold) so we brought in a bucket of wood and made a fire. Then it was movie time complete with fresh popcorn. And I thought, “you know I really already have more than I need.” I even had a chance to celebrate American style complete with turkey and cranberries-twice. I was able to talk to my boys in the states-and even sent one a surprise package at school.

The next day, as the kids and I worked on the final touches of our Christmas Child style packages to go out to the kids at the dump we shared in the excitement of putting together these gifts. I studied the names, some of which were familiar spanish ones and others quite different to me. Tonight these kids will camp out in a trash heap. In the morning they will help their family sort through the mess for anything of value. Puts the whole concept of Black Friday shopping in a new light.

Thanks Lord- for these children who enjoy putting together gifts, for a night in front of the fireplace, for popcorn and movies at home, for the small life here that is so blessed, for the three who extend our family’s reach outward, for the ones who are far in distance but close at heart, for the privilege of a telephone…

We’re still recovering here from back-to-back busyness. Celeste spent 4 days at a wonderful retreat sponsored by Women of Purpose. The group has started coming from West Virginia twice a year to encourage missionaries in Honduras and it’s something we really look forward to. Just so refreshing to have this time with other women who walk the same path.

Then Harold spent 5 days with the oldest girls at a basketball tournament in San Pedro Sula. It was a challenge to be responsible for 10 girls for that long of a time. The highlight of the tournament for our girls was a game played against Freedom Academy.  In the last minutes of the game Pinares was down by 3 points and at the buzzer Charis took a 3 point shot-and made it! The game went into it’s first overtime. Harold tried hard to get the screaming girls back into the game- they were so excited. Then the girls’ friend Ana went to plant her feet for a charge, but had her hands behind her back . She was knocked over and fell on her hands, breaking her wrist. So Ana was out of the game (and the tournament) as it went into a second overtime. A four quarter game became a 6 quarter game and the girls lost by just 2 points.

On the way home, the cable connecting the accelerator on the bus went out. The driver rigged it and tried to handle holding the cable while driving-Harold quickly vounteered to be the accelerator for him. For two hours he pulled the cable uphill and let it go on the down. They stopped for lunch and Harold traded places with someone else who volunteered for the job. (It brought back lots of memories of our green bus and the days of popping off the engine cover to rig something.) They came home tired and smelling of diesel fuel.

Now I am tackling the challenge of mounds of laundry, emptying suitcases and returning things to their place, plus the things that were let go during these busy weeks. Next week we’ll celebrate Thanksgiving-if there’s no power out we can even watch the parade and the weather has been cool and wet like the states. But regardless of where I am I can give thanks.

-for the cool weather to sleep at night, for clean laundry on the line, floors swept,reading books with my baby girl,visit from Arielle, finding sweet potatos at the market, basil grown sweet and tall, coleus and jasmine rooting in ice cream buckets,a Christmas tree soon to be decorated, anticipating time with family

Last week as a hurricane touted as the “storm of the century” threatened my passport country I enjoyed hearing all of the preparations. My beautiful sister-in-love had stocked up on water, flashlights, and junk food just in case the power went out. Whatever the outcome, they were sure to at least gain 5 pounds from food that didn’t require an oven. Being without power and water are so common here that no one even blinks an eye. Matter of fact, there’s a planned power outage again tomorrow (there was one last week ) and we are to be without electric from 9am to 5pm. It means that if I want to wash laundry I need to get it in early and make my phone calls and such quickly after dropping the kids at school. It will be quiet without music and I won’t be on the internet or do my Skype study with the Nashville ladies, but it’s quite bearable. Sometime even when they are announced, they don’t occur, and more often they just occur for an unknown period of time. Plan B is the norm here.

Last weekend as we drove home from a ladies’ retreat I was reminded again of the things that are really important. We dropped off two ladies at a grocery store where I grabbed a gallon of milk before heading up the mountain. On the way we stopped at another 2 places looking for a pharmacy with a particular medicine that another lady needed. Then we headed for that winding road that would bring us up the mountain. About halfway traffic came to a halt and we could see a crowd of onlookers. As we got closer I saw the body of a motorcyclist near his mangled machine. “He’s not from here, no one’s wailing,” one lady commented. And I wondered if he had a family whose lives would be forever changed this night as they waited for him to come home. Unfortunately, here in Central America it’s an all to familiar sight. Someone gets anxious to get around a slow vehicle and there’s an accident. “They’re wonderful people, but don’t put them behind a steering wheel,” my friend had commented. Why people get bent about waiting in traffic in a culture that seems to care so little about time is hard to understand. By now our return was much later than planned and our pastor’s wife readjusted her schedule to go right to the home meeting that was planned. Her husband called and she answered “I’m to be the nina linda (literally beautiful girl, but inferring favorite) they will drop me off at the meeting.” Fifteen minutes later, we dropped her off and as we navigated the washed out one-lane road back the way we had come, suddenly a truck came toward us. My friend dodged to avoid the truck, but we lost a tire in the ditch-no room for two cars here. A gentleman across the road had seen it happen and came out to offer his truck and a rope, but without success. It was finally decided that the best thing would be to push while someone stayed in the driver’s seat. A lot of rubber was burned off the tire in the process but we finally got out! We dropped two more ladies and just as we arrived at my gate it began to pour. A quick call brought hubby with an umbrella to help me carry my bags in.  A 40 minute trip became 3 and a half hours but I was home!

After the election, I was again reminded that with God there is no “Plan B” and my ultimate citizenship doesn’t require a passport. I’m trusting Him to continue teaching me how to live in that eternal timeframe.

Thank you Lord for- a weekend away, times of quiet reflection, singing praise songs in English with other ladies,chocolate, sharing life stories,reading in the hammock,moccachinos at Expresso Americano, walking to Valle, laughter and praise,all types of music, worship stations, hermanas,rice and beans and beans, and beans!

As I sit to work on our Directorio Iglesia Bautista de El Hatillo  I see the faces that are becoming familiar. “Ah, he is also a Gómez, and she was a Carbajal, I didn’t know they were related…”  My keyboard doesn’t have the Spanish accent marks so I have to cheat with a copy and paste system.

Perhaps it’s good that it’s taken a while to round up photos of everyone. Over the past few months I’ve begun to remember names and as I pray through the e-mailed prayer list I am also learning their stories. “Ah they are the family who lack only two rows of blocks for a completed house, she is the one whose husband we are praying for, this was the little one who came to Sunday school with chicken pox last week…”

Next month there will be a mass wedding for between 5 and 10 couples. Most have been together for a while, and some have even had a civil ceremony that grants them the paperwork to be married, but somehow actually having a wedding ceremony with their church family makes it a more formal commitment in their mind and they want people to know that they are making a commitment before God. We will listen to all types of music, from typical latino mariachi to our church’s version of the Hallelujah chorus in Spanish. And everyone will bring food as their gift so that we can celebrate the wedding feast without it costing the couples one of their children to pay for it.

Our church is truely a mix, with several wealthy or politically connected families and others who work as maids and carpenters. Some cannot read, and others (like me) cannot speak (deaf). Yet as I sat last week and we sang “Estare en la viña, trabajando en la viña del Senor…” I was happy to be a part of this congregation. Jubilee sang “estare in la niña…” as we walked home and I laughed, though I contemplated that her song is also true. We are working in the vinyard of the Lord and He is working in her as well.

Thanking Him for the songs in english and español, for girls who went to school in pajamas for their special day, for a day spent at the clinic making progress to healthy tonsils,for being able to wave to familiar faces as we drove down, for struggling through conversation with Toni our driver but understanding much, for pizza night today….

The cement mixer continues its constant noisey tumble. The sunshine tells me that laundry should already be on my line. The sink is full of breakfast dishes and Spanish lessons are waiting. I should be exercising, or studying or…. My time is gone long before I begin and tomorrow will hold many of the same chores. I will wash and fold that same school shirt, sweep crumbs and dirt and -what is THAT?

And the line from Fiddler on the Roof echoes, “after 25 years of washing your clothes,making your meals…..” True I haven’t had to milk a cow and my life is SO much easier than that of a Jew during the Russian revolution. But in all honesty there are plenty of days where it’s an act of will to do the same chores.

Calls from home tell me of Presidential concerns and menengitis outbreak, “did you see what I put on Pinterest?” but life here on the mountain remains much the same. I am part of two worlds and the one that is most familiar is farthest away. The world where I live is the one where I look different than everyone else. I feel like an infant because so often I can’t communicate what I’d like to.  My sister-in-law invites me to walk on a New Hampshire beach and stop for a lobster luncheon and it sounds so appealing-wouldn’t it be just perfect to be there?

And then I remember the line I wrote down the other day from Ann Voscamp’s book, “Nothing is a given-everything’s a gift. Who am I to complain in losses when what I lost wasn’t mine to begin with?” Yes this life is different than the one I had imagined 25 years ago and it’s hard to leave part of your heart in another country. There are adjustments to be made when you lose some of the things you took for granted and days when you feel so much older and so little wiser. At times it’s sheer discipline to continue and the progress seems so small.

So I will choose joy….thanks for the girl who gives me a week of birthday surprises, for the one who brought cold cereal and bananas with her song, for the boy who shares Hardy boy mysteries and the secrets of the perfect paper airplane, for the kitten who “looks like two colors of chocolate” and the little girl who carries her wrapped in a bathrobe, for the one who chats on his way to work at the studio, and the one who proudly posts pictures of the shark he caught and ate, and the one who perseveres in classes that are a challenge, for the ones who teased that they were eating my Bob Evans breakfast,and dear sis who keeps me laughing with her language challenges “contaminated asteroids”. Everything, everyone is a gift.