Every few months, Melissa and I have to fill out paperwork to keep our visas up to date. So, several times a year for about the past two and a half years, I have to fill in the blank that says, “occupation”. I’m not sure why, but I still always write “carpenter”. I still feel a strong connection with that trade, even though I haven’t done much carpentry at all since we’ve been here in Honduras. Working with my hands, especially working with wood, is something that is a part of me and I think it always will be to some extent. To me, it’s a rewarding and satisfying feeling to be able to see tangible fruits of your labor. When I started in the home construction business, I felt an even greater sense of satisfaction, knowing not only was I being able to help build something that would last, but that, because it was someone’s home, it would be a place where a family could live, and grow, and spend time together. It would be a place that someone would take pride in.
Really, since I went on a spring break mission trip to Mexico in college, doing more, longer-term mission work had always been in the back of my mind. Eventually, I felt like I had an obligation to use my talents and passion for carpentry and construction to benefit people who, I felt, really needed it. The homes that I was working on in Oklahoma could hardly be described as basic shelter. It seemed wrong to be pouring all my energy into building homes that were so luxurious, by most standards, when I knew that many people around the world lacked a decent roof over their heads.
In the winter of 2009, Melissa and I began asking people with some missions experience if they knew of a place where I could put my skills to work for people in need. We talked to several people, and the country of Honduras kept coming up. People told us stories about trips that they had made to Honduras and what poor conditions people lived in. We went online and searched for more information. We found all kinds of shocking statistics about poverty. I envisioned that I would be able to do what I loved--build houses--and help people who were truly in need. I felt that it was right for us to go and help. We applied and were accepted to the Helpers In Missions program. After a year of training, and much prayer and discussion, we sold our house and our cars and moved to Honduras for what was, originally, a two-year commitment.
From the very beginning, we knew that we wanted to try to immerse ourselves in the local culture--at least as much as we could. We wanted to take advantage of this incredible opportunity to not just visit, but to live in a foreign land. It seemed to us that we would be happier ourselves and that our relationships with others would be better if we fully embraced the culture, the lifestyle, and the language of the Honduran people. It excited us to think about the adventure and the challenge of knowing this new place and this new culture and trying to become as Honduran as we possibly could.
We started language school right away. Obviously, learning to speak Spanish would not be easy, but we were genuinely excited about the possibility of learning a new language. Others had told us that, even if we weren’t great at it, the locals would appreciate our efforts and that they would be more accepting of us. We attended Spanish classes every day, nearly all day, for the first few months. At the same time, we had a sort of nagging feeling that we should go ahead and get to work on some of the projects that we planned to be involved in. But we felt like to live among these people as guests in their country, we owed it to them to at least have a basic knowledge of their language. And plus, the time we spent in language school was a sort of built-in transition period where we were learning what our new life would be like in terms of the daily tasks, like buying groceries, paying bills, and navigating our way around our new home country.
I guess when you live day-to-day in a place you’ll learn things and have experiences that you just can’t get otherwise. Before coming to Honduras, we had searched out all the information we could find about the country. We read books, searched online, and even made two short visits before moving. But even knowing lots of information about the country and the culture couldn’t compare to living among the people every day. There were, and are, lots of challenges. Our enthusiasm and sense of adventure, at times, ran right into a wall of confusion and frustration when we struggled to communicate or failed to comprehend why people did the things they did. But we had been taught and trained to avoid forming negative attitudes about our new culture.
Instead, we tried our best to find the good. And we did. I’m ashamed to say that before we came to Honduras, I was focussing almost exclusively on things like high poverty rates, low average annual salary figures, a dismal education system, skyrocketing unemployment rates; all things that I thought proved how much we were needed. And, in some ways, maybe I was right. There certainly are lots of needs here. But, living here, we began to see that there was plenty of good to be found. We began to see beyond statistics and shocking images of poverty. God was allowing us to see past the anonymity of the labels we had initially put on the “poor” and “needy”. We started to see people as people, as children of God who bear His image and therefore have dignity that is not based on what they have or what they do, but rather who they are. Many people here certainly have challenges to overcome, but they are people who are “hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”
I think, on some level, I had the idea that we were coming to Honduras to “bring Jesus to the people here”--”to bring God into a ‘dry and weary land.’” What we have realized is that God has been here. God was, and is, working in the lives of the Honduran people. He has been, and is still, revealing Himself and His love to those who will open their eyes and hearts to Him. After a short time of living among them, God, and the people themselves, began to offer us a glimpse into their lives. We began to see them as friends.
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