On the First Day of Drilling...a pear tree would have been nice.

Weather: 

warm, sunny morning

hot, sunny midday

hot, muggy, cloudy afternoon

The pigs wanted to root in the yard, but were terrified of the drill and the local dogs.  You can see the drill rig in the background.

A little girl joined me on the porch to watch the action.

The drill rig and the marvelous blue tarp of heaven.  

The guys were separating pebbles for the filter from sand for the concrete. 

Cuttings after the mud was washed off.  This was the rock we had so much trouble getting through.

Day 1 of drilling was a lot of fun.  Since we were all learning, it was great to be active, but laid-back.  I thoroughly enjoyed each position rotation for its own merit--driller for the break, assistant driller for the painting the pipes with oil and the relative complexity of the tasks, tool pusher for taking samples of the cuttings and seeing what kind of gunk we were progressing through.  The significance of the tool-pusher is that the cuttings would let us know when water was close or not.  There was no spurting or bubbling up of water when we "hit" it.  The geology would let us know by giving us tiny gravel/sand cuttings.  The helper's task of keeping the pits clean was mostly overtaken by the locals, so that person drank water. 

We drilled 80 feet, finally getting stuck in some rock, which put us at a standstill for an hour or so.  When the bit was spinning on the rock, I first prayed that God would remove the rock from our path.  Then God reminded me that He is the God who brought water from the rock, and that we were to, as Brian read from Psalms, "praise the Lord and the land will yield its harvest."  So I praised God for being the God who sometimes takes away obstacles in our path, but sometimes uses them as Ebenezers or mile markers of His glory and to remind us of what He has done. 

It wasn't until the poor drill couldn't take any more of the beating against the rock that our foreman called a meeting to ask us to take the whole setup down for the night and that we'd be casing tomorrow.  A light dawned in my mind--we had hit water a while back!  The whole time we were praying and worrying (the last team from our church had to move the well twice because of rock they'd hit), our drill bit was going through that rock to help the pump to be run through an aquifer--a natural purifying rock that would help the well stay clean and fresh and flowing even when drought comes.  God had indeed brought water from the rock.  The obstacle was a blessing.  

Sunday: before the real WORK began, the REAL work had to begin.

I've been praying for unity in our team, and I thought the shared experience of the church service would bring us together, but it turns out that the church service would bring out in me what God would be working out through me that week and since then. 

The preacher was Pentecostal and preached on Jesus and the lame man who was carried through the roof by his four friends, aka "Jeffrey."  He acted it out as he spoke, sweating profusely from his rotator cuffs of all things.  He was more demonstrative than any American I'd ever seen--and he was American, a Louisiana native who spoke in English through a translator to the rest of the church.  Imagine a tall, broad-shouldered, white Cajun, preaching in an old Black Church style to Carribbean/Latinos and a smattering of gringos from Georgia. 

I must say, my Baptist background pre-disposed me against Pentecostal worship services in general--I grew up thinking they were disorderly and distracting, eliciting emotional experiences that yield no substantial change.  But no, if you understand this church's instance, it was more like attending a symphony than a cacophony.  Even the people "slain in the spirit" were orderly about it.  I'm not kidding.  Not a single person was there grubbing for attention by putting on a show.  The lady shaking maracas and the lady blowing the ram's horn shofar and the lady waving banners all were in a colorful unison. 

The sermon drew from the story of Jeffrey and his friends the traits needed to be a miracle worker where you are now.  This was especially relevant to us, because we had come a very long way to offer a miraculous gift to people in this country--the Word of God and the water from the well we were to dig. 

All the traits are bound in love--they are all connected in love and all stem from the love of God:

1. see the need--you have to look for the needs of those around you and look to meet those needs

2. compassion--just seeing that someone needs something does them no good, compassion compels us to act on their behalf. 

3. unity--one man couldn't have carried Jeffrey to Jesus.  Each of the four had to be on mission together to get it done. 

4. faith--they could have picked up that blanket by the corners every day for the rest of their lives and Jeffrey never get to walk again.  They had to have faith that Jesus would do something about it that no one else could. 

5. action--they could have all agreed and believed that getting Jeffrey to Jesus would be the best thing for him, but if they never acted on it, it would have sat there. 

6. perseverance--the friends got to the house and couldn't even get close for how many people were crowding around.  To approach took perseverance--they didn't walk away with Jeffrey, or put him down and say "sorry, buddy, can't get in, it's too full already.  Better luck next time." 

7. desperation--they just HAD to get Jeffrey to Jesus, so much that they drug him up to the roof and clawed through the mud and thatch until they made a hole big enough to lower him through to Jesus. 

I loved watching the pastor's face at the end when he acted out Jesus, teaching in the house, as He hears the scratching on the roof, He knows exactly what's happening, and He's grinning from ear to ear in pride to see the faith of those four friends bringing Jeffrey to an encounter with Him.  In the end, Jeffrey had to demonstrate his own faith in actually getting up and walking for the first time in his life, but it was their faith, the faith of the four friends, that brought him to encounter Jesus. 

At the end of the service, I felt the need to step forward for prayer and commissioning, though I really had no idea what I was getting myself into.  The preacher, when my turn in the line came, asked me to put my hands up to symbolize my surrender to God, and prayed in agreement with me.  I asked God for compassion, because I felt none.  The admission alone was worth the embarrassment of being the only person in my team to leave the pew.  So the pastor prayed with me and reminded me to continually surrender to God, and I walked back to my seat as quietly as I came. 

It was not emotional, I rarely get emotional about anything, but I knew I had to ask God for His compassion, because without it I would be living a lie before the people we were there to help.  I also knew that, when we got back from Honduras, my husband and I would be going to live with and minister to an apartment complex full of adults with severe disabilities, and without the compassion of God, I would not be able to make it in that environment. 

When the service was over and we left, I saw the old lady in our pew differently.  She had trouble walking, so I took her arm and walked with her until we got outside and someone took her home.  I realized about halfway through that I never would have done that normally--she could make it on her own, and there were plenty of people to help.  But it was the beginning of a quiet compassion stirring.  God was truly answering our prayer.  God was growing my faith. 

As for our group unity, which David and I had been praying for, we finally saw it blossom that night.  We gathered together in the hotel lobby, shared about our day, about what we were hoping God would do this week, and how we came to be at the same church.  Since we were from such a massive church, spanning 3 services in 4 locations and counting, most of us had only met the team leader before the trip.  The unity of mission and prayer together finally brought us to a place of unity. 

That's probably what I loved most about the Honduran mission team--praise and prayer that fed a childlike faith with no limits.  

Day 1: The Trip Down South (longest of all, I promise)

As we depart, I've officially butchered the "you, too" phrase.  "Have a nice flight!" the lady said.  Yeah, I replied "you, too...if you ever fly sometime..."  Dork. 

We met another group going on the plane with us, but to another town in Honduras.  They were with "Living WaterS" instead of Living Water.  Actually, the international section of the airport was swarming with mission teams going to different countries for different reasons.  It was pretty cool to see the people of God out helping other people. 

From the airplane, I decided to use the recycled oxygen as inspiration, and wrote some poetic lines about the scenery:

When you fly
The clouds are the foam on the sea of the sky
And the earth below is a coral reef
Scribbled upon with lakes and roads
Marbled below you.
And you're suspended as if from some giant hand
In a mobile over the crib of a mer-child.

I also noted that the ocean, from the plane, looks like the skin of a football or lizard, leathery and uniformly lumpy, but that didn't fit into the motif of the poem. 

When we arrived in Honduras, we were greeted by Yadira (pronounced Ja-deer-a), a lovely local woman and one of the people who was going to be with us all this week.  She is beautiful in a way that shows a stunning character and a gentle, accepting nature and faith.  Emilio was our driver, and we had been warned to prepare to sing when he drove.  We weren't.  We were prepared to sleep, but he wasted no time in asking Brian to lead his team into worship through song.  Poor Brian was at a loss, but we eventually eked our way through a few tunes and learned some new ones.  Emilio spoke with a carribean accent, so we had to make sure to listen closely to what he said.  I could see he was planting seeds for our growth and was unashamed to be that fool who, when "el espiritu de dios es en mi corazon, yo danzo como David." 

So now I list Emilio's two (we missed the third one, a tree growing out of a tree) "that your eye haf never seen"

1. A school bus "repurposed" as a house:  There was a huge living quarters scrapped together from various pieces of tin and other metals, complete with an entire wing consisting of the shell of a (still yellow) school bus.  He told us that truly one man's trash is another one's treasure. 

2. A Pepsi sign that out-lived a bridge: As we were crossing a bridge over a massive river bed, he directed our eyes to the left.  There was the base of a bridge, the road that had once gone over it had crumbled away, thus necessitating the one we were crossing.  Then we looked to our right, and there stood, in the middle of the river, a column with a massive Pepsi ad on top.  Why, he wondered, could they not make the bridge with the same quality as they made that sign, which had withstood every storm the nation had weathered, when the bridge was so shoddily made that it had crumbled away?  It's a matter of priorities. 

As I write this, I sit in the hammock on our balcony, overlooking the beach.  I wonder at how blessed we are, like most Americans visiting third-world countries.  This resort is considered "3 star," but the lobby is cooled by fans, the lobby ceiling leaks when it rains, and the toilets ran all night.  We're so spoiled that even on a mission trip where we were sent to work, we get to spend time on a beach in a resort, where the food is tremendous and the view is spectacular.  I was shy at the buffet because of a headache I was nursing, but everything I ate was wonderful.  They had a garlic and buttered herbed noodle dish that I plan to try at home. 

It's warm here.  Though the actual temperature is in the 80s, it never feels cool, even in the breeze.  The humidity is always high, and the rain makes it worse.  we came in the rainy season, which means the morning is gorgeous and the afternoon stormy.  We didn't get a chance to do much on the beach last night because of our friendly pop-up storm.  Another blessing: David and I get to room together!  Not that we're making this our romantic getaway, but it is wonderful to be able to talk with him, roll over and sleep on his shoulder (when it's not too warm in the room), and experience this journey together. 

Today is Sunday, and we are going to the church that Yadira and Emilio both attend.  He warned us that there is a sister who worships through blowing a horn, and if the Spirit is moving and he doesn't hear that horn tooting away, he is more distracted than if the horn was there.  Emilio has a childlike faith that shines through constantly.  After our miserable singing (miserable because I had to lead--I closed my eyes and pushed through it), Emilio asked if anyone wanted to share a story. 

Brian shared wonderfully and made a point that we see poverty as a lack of stuff (material), when most truly poor people see it as a lack of opportunities, in a social and psychological way, which is much deeper than the easy fix of more money, more stuff.  Give the poor money, and it only reinforces that they can't provide for themselves.  Give them knowledge of a trade (like he saw with Compassion International, which met real physical needs and taught trade skills as well), and you'll see them not just survive, but blossom beyond just making a living in their villages.  Kids from impoverished villages in Ethiopia blossomed into doctors and lawyers, and they bring their experiences to bear in their lives incredible fruit through the grace of God. 

This is a lot to think about as I start my week.  I wish I had transcribed what Emilio said, it was things like "I need to hear you sing so I can know where your heart is before God" and "If you do not praise the Lord, I do not know what He has saved you from." 

This week is going to be AWESOME. 

Back on the Grid

I'm officially back on the grid after the week in Honduras (which was AMAZING and I can't wait to tell you all about it), and the subsequent day of recovery (after a night of extreme weight loss that I probably won't tell you all about). 

Keep your eye out for posts from each day, which I hand-wrote but didn't get a chance to type up while overseas.  I will be adding pictures as well, after I edit them to make them look cooler. 

This one comes courtesy of Brian Holt, the team leader and only person wearing sunglasses.  Left to right, we have Bob (or Bobert or Bobish), Abraham (our foreman), Brian, Alfredo (kneeling), Davin, Michael, Danny (back), Kelly (front), Edwin, me, and David.  I would tell you that's the finished well we're standing at, but that might ruin the suspense.  Oh, wait. 

Yes, the well is finished, though really that was the secondary objective of the trip.  More an excuse than anything else, as hopefully you'll see through the subsequent posts.  God's work isn't task-oriented, though it involves tangible ways we see His hand. 

Honestly, the biggest theme of this trip was growing our faith.  God took each of us where we were and showed us and spoke to us to bring us to a more demonstrative faith--one where believing and doing are sides to one coin, and the coin is in God's hands to use. 

T-1 Day and I'm Really Starting to Get Nervous

If I could describe my current feelings in one word, it would be "unprepared."  Though I could make a very long list of good things that I have done to get ready for this trip, it's the very long list of things I have one day left to do before leaving (a few should have been done a month ago), that are starting to worry me. 

--Buy boots for David and myself (we were hoping for some used ones, but the building is too full for us to get to them, and even then, we don't know if they would fit, so...buying)

--Buy gloves to take with us

--Get our Tetanus shots (we have appointments at the Health Department tomorrow, since David had to go for his TB test results anyway)

--Scrounge up and pack trash bags, Vitamin E, and David a hat. 

--File all relevant documents in our carry-on bags

--Finish packing toiletries, last-minute list check, journals, etc.

But honestly, as scary as these things are to me right now, a few other things are scaring me as well.  Like the fact that, besides our team leader and my husband, I know zero of our other members by name.  And spiritually, I haven't exactly been on top of preparing to serve either.  I didn't even know we were supposed to start the journals LWI sent us to be working on until yesterday.  And while some of it I can blame on the fact that my husband and I have been living out of a shared suitcase for the past two weeks, some of it is just my own fault for not making this a priority. 

However, at the same time, I see the grace of God on this trip, despite me more than thorough me.  He has provided in many ways, giving David the opportunity to go, providing financially, and preparing us through other avenues as well.  Last night, David was going through the journal, and it suggested as a preparation that we go through our closet and get rid of a bag of clothing we don't need.  It had suggested it for last Monday, the same day David took 7 or 8 bags of our un-needed items to Goodwill.  (We have to downsize significantly to fit in a 1-bedroom apartment when we get back)

We'll see what the next 48 hours bring.  I hope it involves sleep, but I'm beginning to doubt it.  I know it will involve God being sovereign and gracious.  I hope it involves me being gracious, too.  Starting with myself, and then with everyone else as well. 

T-11 Days and a Plan Comes Together

After a few days of climbing, digging, burrowing, scrounging, and re-organizing, the suitcases are half packed.  They are small, which should help us stay within the weight limit.  Which reminds me:

TO DO LIST: Check airline for weight limit restrictions for suitcases. 

David has talked to Kim, our trip coordinator, who got the airline to re-issue his ticket for free (Hallelujah!), so we're good to go on that.  I also found a great pair of junk pants which he can wear for well-digging without worrying about messing up some of his nice jeans.  Speaking of which, here is my to-get list. 

To Buy or Borrow: 
More Snacks
Boots for David
Boots for Jenny
Pants for David
Reusable water bottles
Sunscreen
Anti-Bacterial Wipes
Rain Jackets

Things are coming together, and fast!  And they'd better be, we leave out in less than two weeks. 

Nope, still hasn't hit yet. 

T-14 Days and Panic Sets In

David and I are going to Honduras. 

This may not seem as momentous as it feels right now, for everyone who doesn't know the situational considerations I feel very keenly as I type. 

We are living in David's parents' house, in Jeremy's bedroom, while he lives on our futon in his drum/game room.  David has no job, and I have two, neither of which have paid me anything to date.  Of the two serious job prospects David has, one won't answer his calls, and the other one requires us to sell a bunch of our furniture and move an hour away to a secluded town on the other side of the mountains. 

We are living out of a suitcase, while our other belongings, minus a few items (mostly pantry), are packed into a storage building, behind a giant table saw.  Including our passports/paperwork, other suitcases, some of the clothes we would need to take, and most of our toiletries. 

I made a packing list for us today, and marked D for "dig up" or B for "buy or borrow" items.  We have two weeks to turn all those items into check marks and have them ready for the trip.  In that two weeks it is very possible that we will move or at least make a trip to my parents' house to get the required Tetanus shots. 

Bottom Line: We are under-prepared, hugely under-funded, and following where we know God is leading. 

Under the Bottom Line: I need to make more lists.