Simply Serving... Serving Simply

I knew this trip would be different than my previous adventures to Honduras.  But, I became frustrated with the way thing were moving.  I wanted to serve God.  I wanted to see evidence that I was representing his glory.  My desire was to simply serve Christ.

            Since I had a preconceived conception of what serving God looked like, I remained frustrated for a time.  I wanted to leave a lasting impact on this country.  I envisioned houses being built for the homeless.  The hungry fed.  Lives changed.  I was only putting things into a big picture.  God taught me, even through my stubbornness, that I was here to simply serve but in the form of serving simply. 

            Serving simply means laying down what I believe is serving God and just doing.  Simple tasks can edify the God we love when done in his name.  I learned to glorify God in simply living life with Carlos, Eduardo, and Saul.  It’s a joy to God and I both to just sit in the room and talk with Carlos about anything or to play soccer in the garage with Saul.  I have found that I serve God in just being around them.  I have felt blessed to influence their lives.  When before, I looked at it as a chore to take care of them.

            There are many other simple acts of service that I have learned to dedicate to God.  I am serving even when I just offer a knee for a child to sit on to do homework.  Serving simply is opening a door for a Honduran with his hands full, grabbing a hand of a child, or visiting with those who see little love.  A ride from the top to the bottom of El Hatilo (a mountain in Honduras) for some hitchhiking kids is a delight to the Lord.    It’s about doing simple things for God’s children.

            I came to this country simply to serve but God has taught me to use the gift of being in Honduras to serve simply with every opportunity.

 

“Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms.”

-1 Peter 4:10-

Another Crazy Day…. Under control

We loaded the car around 9:30; Ashley, Colby, Sam and I.  Our destination was the airport.  We arrived and went through the check-in procedures with Colby as Sam went to Dunkin Donuts.  I knew it was already going to be a rough day as Ashley and Colby are so close.  We all said out good-byes as Colby meandered to the security checkpoint.  Hungry, tired, and grieving a little, we headed back to the truck.  At this point, we were just looking forward to a Church’s Pancho sandwich.  (At least, I know I was).  Mmmm, I could already taste the savory chicken with the crisp tortillas as we pulled out of the airport parking lot.  Then the day got crazy.

I saw a motorcycle rapidly approaching the rear driver’s side door.  I thought there is no way he is going to live through this.  I saw his motorcycle start to wobble from an attempt to break and swerve.  Finally, both motorcycle and driver slid across the hot asphalt.  I heard the eerie sound of metal and plastic skidding across blacktop.  I was fearful for what happened to the driver until I saw him stand and throw his hands up.  Sam continued in to Church’s.  I had suddenly lost my appetite.  Both a box truck and an angry taxi informed us that we needed to return to the scene of the accident because we were at fault.  I told Sam forget the food lets go back.

 We returned to chaos.  At first, I didn’t see a motorcycle or a driver and I thought thank the Lord we are off the hook.  But for some reason, the screams continued.  “You shouldn’t be allowed to drive in this country.”  “The police are on their way.”  Panic stuck me.  We are screwed.  The police do not have the best reputation in Honduras, especially among gringos (slang for white foreigners).  I figured it was time to turn to my Savior to rescue me yet again.  I prayed as the police arrived and the driver reappeared with his bike and a trail of blood streaming from his right leg.  I asked God to deliver us from this frightening situation.  As I leaned on the bed of the truck, hands folded, head bowed in reverence, I felt a calm drift over the situation.  I prayed for Ashley’s Spanish, because I knew mine would be of no help here.  By God’s grace, the two policemen that showed up were helpful.  They handled the situation very well.  And to top it all off ,the man, who I later found out was Manuel, was as kind as anyone with a broken leg that gushed blood could be.  Finally, we were able to leave the scene and take Manuel to the hospital.  And of course, God stepped in again.  Doctor Larios, a bone specialist, happens to be a close friend.  That day God had made him available.  He is such a kind man that he did his work for free, cutting the hospital bill in half.  The extent of Manuel’s injuries included two hairline fractures in his ankle and a deep cut requiring four stitches.  Though he lost a lot of blood, the injuries were quite minor.  And if God wasn’t good enough he allowed us to spend the day with Manuel.

            Manuel was about 30 with two kids.  He had lived in the states near San Francisco for eight years.  Fortunately I had been, so it gave us conversation during our 6 or so hours at the hospital.  I also learned that he bought buses from Lima, Ohio and had been there, not far from me.  He runs his own business of renting buses out; perfect for a missions team, and his prices were quite reasonable.  I think God might have been showing off a little at this point.  But, I thank him all the more for showing how much he really does love me.

In our most fragile moments, the Father cradles us in his all encompassing arms.

Control is never ours, anyway.  

I'm Back

Back in Honduras.  For a little under a week I have been back and serving in Honduras.  Feeding the needy, taking care of little ones, and just loving like Jesus.  I love these opportunities that God has given to me.

I realize that this would not happen if it were not for an awesome God and those who support me back home.  I just want to thank you all so much.  You have been truly good to me.  Thanks for you contributions, whether it be in giving or in prayer.  Each one of you has given me hope of making a difference in this world full of injustice.  I come here to represent you and the God we serve.  So thank you, even if all you did was say one little prayer for me.  I cannot show the extent of my appreciation, but please know that I am putting forth effort for you and for God.  I love you all!

Sacrifice

I am all too often under the impression that I am making sacrifices.  The other night I was set straight by a women and her family who represented true sacrifice.

Saundra, one of the workers at Casa de Esperanza, invited us out to her village.  Two of her six children were being baptized at a tiny Catholic church.  I was excited to support her and her family because she has always been kind to me.  But the service was so long, and some of that excitement faded.  But a few hours later the ceremony had concluded.  We walked back across the dirt road and over to Saundra’s house.  It was a typical Honduran house; dirt floor, few rooms, and very small.  But, she had managed o make room at the table for our group of just over ten.  She had insisted on making s dinner.  I figured it was an insult if we did not accept.  Not a single member of the family sat around the table.  They made sure we were all well accommodated long before they rested their feet.  Saundra prepared beef, rice, salad, and potato.  As I was eating the delicious meal, I noticed her family was eating significantly smaller portions.  Is hurt me to think that they didn’t have the money to be providing so much food.  But, their sacrifice embodied the love of Christ. 

She reminded me of the woman with the alabaster jar of perfume. 

“While Jesus was in Bethany in the home of a man known as Simon the Leper, a woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, which she poured on his head as he was reclining at the table.

 When the disciples saw this, they were indignant. "Why this waste?" they asked.”

            -Matthew 26:6-8-

I tend to misunderstand true sacrifice.  To be served by those who have so little is a blessing from God.

The Stresses of Human Philosophy

As a human, my mindset has limitations.  I wish it weren’t so.  I worry and stress over few things in life.  I am a very laid back individual.  I would like to say it is because I put all my trust in God, but that is untrue.  The truth is I am flawed.  But when I do stress it is usually fairly serious.  The truth is my human tendencies are getting the better of me right now.  In this leadership role for our upcoming missions trip, the responsibilities seem endless.  But that’s not what has me worried.  We need to raise close $30,000 among 24 of us to make the quota for the trip.  Currently we are $6,000 short.  I thought if we just raise $2,400 for the two houses we could have less the team needed to come up with.  Then I could have some more breathing room.  Our missions team arrives one week from today, December 12^th.  It seems like such a small portion of the money, but we have so little time.

 

I would like to sit and worry about the money, loathe myself for being an incapable leader.  I could keep using “I, me, and we.” But I realize it’s not about me or even the team.  I am failing, again, to attribute to God what is his.  This trip is his and he knows how the money will get here and when.   I need look no further than the title of my blog site, but his word always puts it best.

 

 

-“Know therefore that the LORD your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commands.”-  Deuteronomy 7:9

 

Please keep our team in your prayers.  We serve a faithful God indeed.

 

If you would like to know more about the trip details, you can contact me at mrwallace4@gmail.com.  I will be attempting to blog throughout the trip as well.

Kindergarten Graduation

Because of a late arrival I did not get to see the kids that night.  But I was awoken by the sweet sound of thirteen angels singing out of tune.  It was about 6:30 am, but I didn’t mind too much because I knew I could participate in naptime later that afternoon.  But the real event was not my arrival but the joy of kindergarten graduation. 

            The reunion that morning was great but short lived as the other children went to visitation day in the city.  I was left behind to play with the kindergarteners before their big day.  We got dressed up and hiked over to the little room schoolhouse.  The place was crowded with the children and their parents.  There were directors and presidents of things I did not understand.  The mayor of Santa Ana was even there.  This was a big deal and I got to be a part of it. 

            Monica, Fernando, and Daniela were all graduating. Monica was happy to be there.  But it was her 2^nd or 3^rd year in kindergarten.  She was born with some mental incapability and she was finally passing, making us all proud.  Fernando’s face beamed all day long with pride.  It was so cute to see him walk up to the front and get his diploma.  His walk personified his fulfillment as he bounced with each step.  Daniela was quiet and almost bashful as we praised her.  She didn’t seem to glory in the attention as much as the other kids.  But her beautiful smile came out now and then.  You could see her joy and sense of accomplishment.  After the big ceremony, we sat outside in the warm sun and enjoyed lunch and company.  The kids were playing with their balloons, which they loved.

            I was proud of these kids like they were my own.  I was delighted to fill in as their Papi.  

Traveling

I hit the road or the air again on Thanksgiving Day.  I was up early and on my way from Cleveland.  The airports seemed emptier than usual.  It left a eerie and lonely feeling for a holiday.  I shared the day with many other forlorn travelers away from family and friends.  I found few comforts at my layover in Baltimore as the day was gloomy and the airport somber.   But in Houston during my four and a half hour layover, I found familiarity in some Thanksgiving Day football.  The games were one sided and a little less than entertaining, but it brought comfort.  I also enjoyed a little diner called Ruby’s at Houston.  It was full of booths with a single person in each.  I thought in my head about pushing them all together and having our own feast, but it ended as a thought.  I made sympathizing small talk with the workers as I ate my burger.

            I did get to enjoy my Thanksgiving Day turkey.  Unfortunately it came in the form of a small airline turkey sandwich barely filling and hardly tasty.   But I enjoyed the concept.

            I arrived in San Pedro Sula at 10 pm.  While patiently waiting in line at customs I began to speak wit an American couple.  They were backpacking the country and had just made their way from Seattle.  Our conversation was cut short my the rapid flow of the custom lines. And I didn’t mind.  I waited at the airport, longing for familiar faces, for about an hour.  Then David, Ashley, Carlos and Eduardo walked through the door.  It was a soothing sight.  We began our four-hour journey to Tegucigalpa.  David is such a trooper.  He drove the entire trip, straight through our lingering exhaustion.  Around 3 am we came to a rolling stop at the gates of the orphanage.  It was a beautiful sight even through my half closed heavy eyelids.  I had no trouble falling a sleep after my near 24-hour day.  I made it!