That's what's left.
After this being my home for a year, all I have is one week.
The time has flown by since I got back here in June. My cousin, Amanda, stayed for almost three amazing weeks. I cannot describe how much of a joy and blessing it was to me to be able to have her here. Besides great quality-girl-talk time and a few late night baking sessions and several intense basketball games, she kept busy with getting to know the kids at the Children's Center and helping me out at W-Ragar Bilingual School and even singing with us for worship one evening at church. When she left, quite a few kids asked me where my "prima" was and when she was coming back. She made a good impression, I'd say.
Since I've been back, I have begun helping out two days a week at El Camino Kinder, a bilingual kindergarten and future grade school that just started up this school year. Things like the adorable little white and navy blue uniforms and the 5-year-old energy level and beyond cute tiny Spanish-English accents make me love working there.
It is fun and at the same time difficult to try to figure out each of the kid's individual learning styles and motivators. You can't handle two different kids the same way. It just doesn't work. One of the boys, Aron, is very smart and because of that sometimes has problems staying focused and applying himself while he has to wait for the others to catch up. He can get a bit ornery. All you have to do to get him interested again is to give him a competition and he's as good as gold. "Alright, Aron, let's see if you guys can stand in line better than everyone else." And suddenly, his little hands shoot straight down to his side and he stands up tall and he's ready to go.
About four weeks ago, I moved from staff housing (where I've been staying all year) into a small house beside the Children's Center. Kara, another intern, was kind enough to let me come live with her after I got semi-kicked out of staff housing. I was asked to move out as a big favor because of a sudden need for a room, but honestly, I had already been secretly scheming to come live here but just couldn't figure out how. Apparently, and per usual, God had a great plan.
I'm living in this little house.
The one on the left. The pila is the square cement pool-looking thing in the front.
It's just to the right of this big house, the Children's Center.
Probably partly because of my personality, I absolutely love living here, right in the middle of everything and everyone. It seems perfectly fabulous to me to be able to play keep away with the kids in the afternoons and buy topos (popsicles in sandwich bags) whenever I feel a craving; or sit talking on the porch with my friends until it's dark and then move to the pila so we won't disturb Kara; or have one of the kids knock on my front door asking if I want to learn how to make tortillas, because the cook is about to make 80 and I can come help if I'd like; or decide to walk to the beach with some kids because it's hot and we want coconuts.
Last week, Kara and I cooked together for the kids and crew of the Loma de Luz Missionary Kid (MK) Camp. Cooking for 50 people is a full-time, tiring job. From 6 to 6, we made food. My hands are a little beat up now and my feet are a bit sore, but I have to say, I actually really enjoyed working in the kitchen. It was great being able to get to know some of the missionary kids from around Honduras just because I made their dinner.
I did get to participate in the camp, too. I wasn't going to have to, because being a member of one of the competing teams means memorizing quite a bit of scripture each day and a quizzing competition every evening to earn points for your team, and I wasn't supposed to have time for all of that. But after having several kids come in the kitchen to ask for help with memorizing their verses, I couldn't help myself. "PUT ME ON A TEAM," I said. Memorizing, competition? Right up my alley. I have to admit, I did get pretty into the whole competition, and I'm glad my team won. *go Blue!*
But overall, it was great to have a week to spend with the missionary kids and interns. The last evening, two of the MK girls and I took pillows and blankets outside to lay on the patio outside of staff housing and look at the stars. They were so clear, the clearest I've seen in a long time, with an arm of the Milky Way visible and sparkling. A huge and glittery shooting star, probably three times as big as the brightest star, shot clear across the sky. We could hear the waves crashing down the hill on the beach and thousands of chirping tree frogs and cicadas and it was so beautiful.
I'm trying to start thinking about leaving in two weeks and trying to prepare myself. But it's so hard imagining life without all of these people around me, people who I've grown to love dearly...the missionaries, their kids, the Honduran children, the teachers at the bilingual school, the workers at the Children's Center...
There's a part of me that would just like to sit down and cry about leaving, and then figure out a grand scheme to keep me from it. Not that I don't miss home, especially all my lovely family, but the hope of seeing my other home again seems more real. I haven't ever felt like I wouldn't go back to the States.
Leaving here is so much more unsure. I don't know what God has for me after this. I really don't know if I'll be able to come back and visit soon, if at all. And if I can and do, there's no guarantee that anyone who is here right now will be here then. I'll never come back to the same Honduras, that much IS sure. That's what makes leaving here so hard.
I feel like my never ending lesson is to learn to trust in my Father. He led me to come here for a season, and for that I am so incredibly thankful. And yet now I know he's telling me to leave, even if it hurts. I just want to trust in his love for me, let myself sink into it and be pushed along by it, no matter where he's asking me to go or what he wants me to do. I was struggling with leaving and trusting a few nights ago and was reading in 1 Corinthians about lots of good things about grace and freedom and everything wonderful that didn't seem to be helping me. But I "happened" across 1 Corinthians 2:9, that says, "However, as it is written: 'No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him.'" My only peace in leaving comes from that - that I know that God sees all and knows all and is in control of everything, and that if I let him, he'll lead me through a life of serving him that will in the end be more beautiful and worth it than I could ever imagine right now.
Please be praying for me during this last week or so. There are so many people to say goodbye to and it's hard to know how to spend my time. It's short, that's for sure.
See everyone in ten days!
