Happy Birthday

This past week has been really great, but emotionally tough. Saturday was my birthday, and while usually a birthday is a time to celebrate life, I found myself lamenting it. On the last post I had mentioned Norma, a 28 year old mother of two who was in a coma after being shot twice, and on Thursday night her brain hemorrhaged around the bullet the doctors were not able to remove and she died. The story that was released was that she was caught in the middle of a gang shooting--a sort of "wrong place at the wrong time" sort of incident. The truth though was that the police mistook her car for a drug runner and they shot her twice in the head. Her 2 year old and her 6 year old were in the car at the time.

The previous day, Leah and I were walking to the bus after buying groceries when a man ran past us--very closely-- with a police officer 15 steps behind him with gun drawn. As they both rounded the corner, two shots were fired. We were probably 30 feet away from all of this, and that is definitely the closest I have ever been to a police shootout. After being here for awhile I can't stay that I was completely surprised by it, but poor Leah hadn't even been here two weeks at that time and I knew she was a little spooked. Later down the block we saw the man being hauled off by the police officer and he wasn't limping or anything, so I suppose he shot in the air or in the dirt. I should have been more affected by it then I was--I think I was more scared by my lack of fear than anything else.

Saturday Leah & I went to the market for what I would consider her first "real" cultural experience, and by real I mean not rubbing elbows with the rich and famous like we do at school, but rather seeing how most of the population lives. These farmers work so hard to harvest their food and drive it into the city, and then only get the equivalent of $.50 for a huge pineapple or $.04 for a cucumber. How they survive I am not certain, especially with gas almost at $3.50 a gallon here. It makes me remember that summer when gas in Florida was around $3 a gallon and how everyday on the radio and TV people's outrage poured out over this travesty, and here it just seems so.....different. I wish I could come up with a more descriptive term, but the right word escapes me.

I was reminded about this time I was in a taxi that stopped to get gas before taking us to our destination, and the driver, who was very nice and easy to talk to, put 50 Lempiras in the gas tank---this is like the equivalent of $2.50. I asked him why he put in so little...I mean afterall, he is a taxi. He told me that if he put a lot of gas in his car that people would siphon it out and steal it. That thought had never occured in my little privileged American mind.

Anyways, back to this weekend. After the market, Leah and I went with a small group to Manos Extendidas, an organization that has feeding centers for the poorest of the poor children as well as sponsorship capabilities (http://www.MEHonduras.org). Usually a group from Pinares goes once a month, but until this month I have always had some sort of obligation, so I have never gone. After traveling into Comayaguela, the poorer half of Tegus that has been swallowed up by urban sprawl, we met at the church that runs the feeding centers and were able to look at their new building, which was still humbling even with the smell of brand new paint and drywall filling the rented one-room. There were no windows, no sound system, and no decorations and yet people could still worship there. I was beginning to think that was impossible without paid musicians with wireless mics transferring sound into stacks of Marshall amps in a newly renovated building. Okay, that might have sounded a little bratty, but I have very strong views on megachurches, or at least that mentality. In addition to being a church, operating feeding centers everyday and finding sponsorship for children, they also help to rehabilitate prostitutes and street kids and even help former gang members hide out so that they will not be killed for leaving the gang. Truly, these people are my heroes.

After meeting up with some of the Hondurans that work the feeding centers day in and day out, we loaded into the cars and went to the poorest outskirts of the city, way up in the mountains after driving up dirt roads that can only be driven with 4WD. Now when I ask you to try and imagine the poorest neighborhood your mind can possibly conjure up, picture us there. There were about 60 children, plastic cup in hand, ready to receive their one meal of the day, which that day was a sort of rice pudding/oatmeal/gruel type food that was portioned out so each child received 1 measuring cup full. We also sang songs with the kids, talked, played, and put on bible skits. Those children are so darling and (thankfully) appeared oblivious to the absolute poverty in which they lived.

I realize that all this sounds quite depressing, and on my birthday I must admit that I was a little depressed. My heart was broken over Norma, I had seen children who had so little that I could probably double their entire family's yearly income with what I pay with in taxes for my job with benefits (that job in the U.S., by the way, would put me under minimum wage. Just added that for perspective). I was also finally feeling a little freaked with the shootout that had just happened a couple of days prior along with some other incidences that I had heard about recently. I thought, how could I possibly celebrate anything to do with my life--my shallow, materialistic life filled with comfort and security--when there is so much need and suffering in the lives of so many? Why was I given another year of life when Norma was not? Why is my life worth keeping sustained when the lives of a good portion of children whom I helped serve food to will have their lives snuffed out before they ever should be? It was then that I felt God gently telling me that He is in control, and that I have His protection for a reason.

I had also been reminded of a conversation I had had earlier that day about traveling around the world. On the bus back from the market, people were talking about all of the fantastic exotic locations that they have been, and I thought about maybe after this contract in Honduras that I could pack up and move to somewhere new, and then after that somewhere new. I could keep teaching as a missionary and I could probably convince myself that I was doing what God wanted me to do and that I was a good person. But that night, sitting on the floor of my closet, crying and talking to God on my 23rd birthday, I knew in my heart that the reason I am here and the reason I am alive is because of those poor kids at the feeding center, because of the taxi drivers I talk to and because of those street kids who happily take my half-drank smoothie I hand them. My job on earth is not to make a bunch of shallow relationships all over the world and collect a portfolio of photographs featuring different races of poor people I helped one time. My purpose here is to go deeper than that. Every breath I am given is given in the hope that with it I can follow Jesus more and do those things that He has called me to do. To feed those kids. To talk in my broken Spanish to people. To become involved in the lives of others who are hurting and needing and feeling more than I ever could imagine. That is why I am here- 23 years old. Happy Birthday to me.

New Update

In the middle of typing up my last post, my computer died...and its not one of those "oh my computer crashed" sort of temporary problems. This is probably the real deal. I don't know if it was an electrical surge or what, but my computer had this terrible burnt smell, and when I took it to have an estimate done today the guy looked at it and said "oh my God". That is usually not such a good sign...

So, I suppose I'll be needing a new computer now, but I will not be able to get one until I return to the states in July. If anyone out there reading this has a laptop I can buy from them, let me know.

Also, I'm asking your prayers for this woman, Norma, who is the mother of my roommate's student. She is not much older than I am, has a 6 year-old and a newborn and is currently in a coma after being tragically caught in the middle of a gang shooting. She was driving in her car with her children when she was accidentally shot twice in the head, and with much prayer she has somehow held on and is making progress. Situations like this sort of shake me into reality, and make me realize just how precious and fragile life really is. Having had a couple of scary incidences myself, I also ask that you would continue to pray for my safety as well as the other teacher's at both my school and other schools like mine in the area.

I will be posting pictures from this weekend as soon as I can, so keep checking up on me. I covet your comments and e-mails...you don't realize just how encouraging they are. I love you all and I will try to do a better job of keeping you more updated.

Lago de Yojoa

So, I realize that it has been a month since my last post, and you have to believe me when I say that I have sat down a couple of times to write and update everyone about my life. Looking back over my previous posts, however, my recent life has not seemed to produce anything nearly as exciting or exotic as what you are accustomed to. After this weekend, I think that has changed...but before I tell you about that, I need to take a couple of minutes to give you a recap of events over the past few weeks of things that I feel you need to know, but didn't necessarily merit its own post.

We have had a couple of fun days at school, one being the 100th day of school and Valentine's Day. Since August 21st, my class and I have been counting up to the 100th day of school, in which we celebrated by dressing like old people (myself included) and did various school activities revolving around the number 100. My kids were so cute, and it really made me look back to see how much my students have grown and developed in a relatively short time together. When they entered my class on Day 1, they could not understand or speak English, tie their shoes, read, or write words. Now they are doing all with amazing ease (thank goodness they can tie their shoes now), and I feel so blessed and privileged to be a part of the development of these kids. Sometimes I wake up and I think to myself, "Am I really a teacher now? Do they really trust me with these kids, a recent college grad, and think me worthy of imparting knowledge?" Before I began teaching, my biggest fear was not my living situation, my safety, the language, or any of the hardships that come with living in an extremely impoverished nation, but rather that I would be a terrible teacher, my students would not learn anything, drop out of school in frustration for never having learned to read or write, and join gangs since they did not have an education. Okay, that may be a slight exaggeration, but I really was scared to ruin these children, so seeing their development has eased my fears about the aforementioned situation. I adore my children so much more now on Day 100-and something than I did on Day 1 or Day 50, and if nothing else, I have full confidence that my children know that I love them and for so many of them, that is just what they need. So, for me life is still great and I just have peace about my life because I know that I have just found my little niche in the universe.

So onto more recent matters. As many of you know, I have had a friend join me in my little niche about a week ago, and tomorrow will be her first day teaching by herself here. My friend Leah, who I figured out I've known for about 9 years now (which makes me feel old) has recently taken a position at the Academia Los Pinares to take over a 4th grade class for a teacher who is going on maternity leave. Lucky for me but unlucky for both sets of parents, we are pretty adventurous and probably bring it out of each other more than normal. I'm just glad to have someone here who enjoys leaving their apartment and exploring as much as I do, and I've gotten a kick out of transitioning from the one needing the translation to the one giving the translation.

Now that we are up to speed, this past weekend was ALP's annual teacher retreat at the country's only lake, Lago de Yojoa. Even though the whole weekend was drizzling and cold, I had a fantastic time. The topography of the area was a nice change from Tegucigalpa, which has mostly rugged mountains and pine forests to the lake where the surrounding area looked like a tropical postcard with the banana trees, mountains, and jungle birds flying about. The lake is situated inside a collapsed volcano and sits at about 1/2 a mile up, so the mountains surrounding the lake were especially beautiful with the clouds covering the tops. I also wish that I could explain the sounds of the birds and frogs which filled the air, and since it was sort of rainy all weekend long they seemed to be even more alive and vocal.

Even though it was cold and rainy, there was no way that Leah and I were going to stay in our cabin all weekend...especially when there is a new area to explore. We went with a group from ALP to this national park and took a boat ride way out into the lake. In our boat there were 13 people and the top of the boat barely hovered about the water, and while some people might be miserable being cold and wet in a boat, I was just amazed at my surroundings and had one of those "I need to commit this to memory" sort of experiences. After being on the water for 25-30 minutes, and were dropped off at this rickety bridge (See: Video Clip http://www.zippyvideos.com/8093081706682756/macayla_005/) where we walked back through Lenca ruins and sugar cane fields to the front of the park. We then met up with the rest of the group at this little cabana-type restaurant to eat boiled corn on the cob dipped in mantequilla and rolled in quesillo. Nearby the lake were supposed to be these fantastic waterfalls that you could jump off of into this swimming hole, but alas I was not quite that adventurous because it was definitely cold and as it was, I did not have enough warm clothes for this trip and I definitely wore the same jeans and jacket for the entire 3 day retreat. We were warned by everyone that this trip is usually really hot and were told to bring plenty of tank tops and shorts, so at least we were in good company in our cold, wet states and repeat outfits.

Besides the lake adventure, I also had a great time just hanging out with my new "family" here, as diverse as they may be. I played a few games of Spanish pictionary (which by the way is difficult enough to draw and guess these words in English), hung out with lots of people I normally wouldn't be able to, and had lots of time to relax just soak in the weekend...literally and figuratively.