Who is most blessed? My thoughts on my mission trip to Honduras, February, 2014.

This was my second mission trip to Honduras.  My sister, brother and I had made the trip together in 2012 as a way to honor our parents who had made several mission trips including one to Honduras in the 1980’s.  Both trips were sponsored by our church, the Grace Place, and lead by Hearts to Honduras.  My daughter went with me on my second trip which was a special blessing.  Our focus this trip was to complete a kindergarten building in the village above Santa Rita where a team from our church had built a church building last year.  We have established a “sister church” relationship with that church and plan to go back to the same village on future trips.  In addition to completing the building, our plan was to also continue to build relationships with the people in Pastor Paula’s church and the village.

Upon arriving in Honduras, the thing that most Americans notice first is the poverty.  As soon as the Heart to Honduras bus leaves the airport parking lot at San Pedro Sula, a silence comes over the occupants of the bus especially the ones who have never been to Honduras.  The cameras come out of the backpacks because what is seen rolling past the windows is so different from what we see in the U.S. surrounding a major, international airport.   There are men on horseback trotting down the side of a four-lane highway.  There are huge carts of sticks being pulled by bicycles.  And there are shacks, lots and lots of shacks.  It is hard for our mind to believe what our eyes see.  People really live in these shacks.

As we travel into the interior of Honduras to our destination of Santa Rita, the terrain gets more rugged and the signs of poverty more profound.  There are banana trees and coffee fields.  There is corn planted everywhere.  We try to imagine how a person would plow a field of corn that goes straight up a mountain until we remember they do it by hand not by tractor.  We see children carrying bundles of sticks.  We see children carrying machetes as long as their arm.  We meet the people of the village and visit their homes.  As we get to know them, we are amazed by their contentment and faith in God.  We realize they don’t know they are poor.

Pastor Paula, of our sister church in Santa Rita, takes us to visit members of her church so we can pray with them.  As we enter their fenced in yard, we are greeted warmly.  They drag out plastic chairs for us, their visitors.  Their sense of hospitality puts us to shame.  They are not embarrassed of the trash on the ground or the outdoor kitchen with its mud oven.  We are invited to go into their homes to look around the two room dwelling.  They have so much less than we do but they are not ashamed of their home like some of us are.  They are thankful for what they do have and don’t seem concerned about what they don’t have.  Many people in our congregation will not invite a Bible study group into their home for fear that their house

won’t measure up to other houses.

While in Santa Rita, our associate pastor and trip leader asked us what impressed us most about our visit to Honduras.  Many people talked about the people and the poverty.  Pastor Owen told us how torn he was with the idea of bringing 25 people to Honduras on a work camp at a cost of $1,000 per person.  What could $25,000 accomplish in a community like Santa Rita?  Are our personal relationships with these people worth $25,000 when $25,000 in cash could potentially build a new water tank system for the entire community?  None of us knew the correct answer.

As I was coming through U.S. Customs on my return to the United States, the customs officer asked me if I was a part of a mission team.  I told him I was and realized my Heart to Honduras t-shirt had given me away.  He thanked me for what I had done in Honduras.  I told him I believed we got more of a blessing from the trip than the people of Honduras had received.  Again, he thanked me for what I had done “down there” and said, “Welcome, home.”

Many Americans come home from third world countries with a feeling of guilt.  It is the guilt of having excess.  I have more clothes than I can possibly ever wear and, yet, I want new ones.  I have boxes of shoes for every occasion.  I have multiple bedrooms; pure, clean, running, hot and cold water; an indoor, electric kitchen and three cars, two of which are in garages.  I know God has blessed our country, my family and me personally.  I don’t feel guilty about that.  I use what God has blessed me with to serve Him and others.  What I do question is whether or not we should share our hunger for more stuff with people who are so content with so little.

One of our translators while in Santa Rita was a 21-year old young man named Isaac.  A native Honduran, Isaac was fluent in English and worked as a translator for several groups.  He was making a good living by Honduran standards but he desired more.  His brother had gone to the United States and was living in Florida illegally.  He was urging Isaac to join him.  Isaac desired all the good things that he thought would be waiting for him in Florida but was fearful of the dangerous and expensive trip by train and bus through Mexico to Texas.  We tried to encourage Isaac to stay in Honduras and use his abilities to advance his own country.  We explained to him that the life of an illegal in the United States may not be what he thinks it will be.  Yet, he was not persuaded.  The desire to have the same stuff as the “rich” American mission workers was too strong.  I have no doubt that by now Isaac is in the United States illegally and for that I feel just a bit guilty.

Our last days in Honduras

Having finished our houses early we had all day Thursday to relax and do some sightseeing.  It was also St. Patrick's Day.  I woke up early and just lay on my bunk listening to the unusual sounds of the Canchias camp.  Since the tire had blown out on our truck the day before, we loaded the bus for the ride to the Heart to Honduras youth camp.  It was a wonderful place with a lot of potential but it was only partically finished because they had cut some trees during construction without permission from the government.  The government has prohibited new construction and the future of the camp is now in litigation.  It is easy to see why the trees need to be protected since they are magnificent and dripping with Spanish moss.  I hope there is someway to resolve this situation.

Linda relaxing in a hammock

We continued on to Lake Yure where Heart to Honduras has gorgeous property overlooking the lake.  They put out several hammocks and opened coconuts for us.  We enjoyed a couple of hours there hanging out in the hammocks, eating P&J sandwiches and just relaxing.

Thursday night we joined with the students at the School of Discipleship for a service at the Canchias camp.  The bug had finally caught up with me and I was not feeling great but it was a wonderful night of music, message and fellowship.  We got a late start since the electricity kept going out.  Our guys got a chance to lead in worship and did a fantastic job.  The students said we were the first group to visit who could play all the instruments and lead them in worship.  It was fun when the students got to lead us in one of their songs and it was the same song we had learned earlier in the week.

We all woke up early on Friday morning and were excited to pack up for our trip home.  We loaded the truck again for our last bumpy ride.  It was a somber trip with not as much laughing or talking as previous rides.  At the office we switched back to the bus for the ride to San Pedro Sula and shopping!  Linda, Jimmy and I were on a mission to get some hammocks.  At the market, the three of us combined our order and felt with Leo's help we negotiated a good deal.

Getting though customs and immigration in Honduras and then the US was a long process but it was so wonderful to finally be in Miami.  The three Odum kids stuck together and enjoyed an American meal of pasta at Pizza Hut along with a Diet Coke and as much ice as we wanted!  It was so meaningful to spend so much quality time with Linda and Jimmy.  I am really an Odum.  Mama always said it was unnatural how Daddy's brothers and sisters loved to be together but I totally understand it.  For so many years, we were not able to be together and now we can and it is great.

After a fast and scary landing in Nashville, I finally got to see my sweet Jerry.  Sharon came with him to pick up Jimmy.  When I got home, Jerry had a card and a rose for me.  Awww, he really missed me.  It was a trip I will never forget.  I can't say I would do it again any time soon but maybe some day.

Getting money back

Wednesday morning in Honduras and we were up early again.  Today was going to be a fun day.  Since we had basically finished our houses, all the women got to visit a local school while the men went back to the job sites to put screens on the windows and doors.  One team had been going to different schools all week but this was the first time I got to go along.  The children of Honduras are so beautiful and friendly.  Yes, I am a sucker for kids with brown eyes!  We gave them bubbles, beach balls, toothbrushes, toothpaste and candy.  (I know it seems wrong.)  Most of the children's teeth are full of cavities since the water is not safe and they drink a lot of sugary sodas.  This little boy's front teeth were decayed.  He had a beautiful smile but he would close his mouth when the camera was pointed at him.  I hope somehow something will change for him and his permanent teeth will be saved.

My brother, Jimmy,
enjoying his burger

In the afternoon, we rode into Santa Cruz and went to a fast food restaurant.  It is crazy how good a hamburger and fries can taste.  We also got our first glance at a TV since we left on Saturday.  We were shocked and saddened to learn that over 4,000 had been confirmed dead in Japan from the earthquake and tsunami. 
After lunch, we broke into teams and went shopping for items for our homes.  I was so thrilled to be chosen to manage the money we had to spend on Guadalupe.  The first store was like an old hardware store; it had everthing.  We picked out a teal, plastic table with four adult chairs and two childrens chairs; a folding bed with mattress; a red, plastic storage unit and a beautiful mirror with Psalm 91 at the top.  I was excited to pay AND get money back.  Of course, it was in lempira which are 1/9 of an American dollar.  We crossed the street and spent the rest of our money on two toy cars, a broom, a mop, a bucket, a storage box, lots of food and soap.  All together we spent $133 and got back 61 lempira.  I love this getting money back!

It only took two days

It was Monday and our first work day at Guadalupe's house in San Isidro. After a breakfast of huevos rancheros, red beans, fresh melon and locally-grown coffee, the twenty-seven mission workers climbed into the back of a truck for the thirty minute ride along a rough, curvy, gravel road into San Isidro. San Isidro was not much more than a community of a few houses and a little store along the road. The Heart to Honduras compound was the hub of the community with its office and large, open shed for storing vehicles and supplies. We jumped out of the truck and loaded the bed with all the lumber needed to build two houses and the generator, known as "El Diablo" because of its massive size. Once loaded with materials, two of the four teams climbed up on top of the lumber for the short ride to our building sites. Guadalupe's block foundation and concrete floor were already in place when we arrived. It was situated on a narrow piece of land between a valley and a barbed wire fence along a dirt road. There was about three feet of clearance on each side of the house. A second house was being built down a path behind Guadalupe's house only assessable by squeezing along the barbed wire fence. All the lumber and El Diablo had to be unloaded from the truck. Half of the lumber was stacked for Guadalupe's house and the other half had to be carried down the path to the other location. It is amazing how quickly a simple 18' x 16' house can be constructed. Our team was made up of three men, five women and a Heart to Honduras construction leader. Since Guadalupe did not have electricity, El Diablo was fired up and the building commenced. I found a lightweight hammer and I hammered nails into the two-by-fours and siding. By lunch time, all the stud walls were up and the wood siding had been started. We climbed back into the truck and rode over to the office for a lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while resting on the concrete paving of the compound. By the end of the second day, the simple house with two doors and windows was complete. To most Americans, we would consider it a shed or garage but to Guadalupe it was a mansion. Before starting construction, our team was able to visit Guadalupe's house which was down a slight hill from the new house. I could not believe she and her husband along with their twins, Ande and Andre, were living in such conditions. It was basically a shed made of planks with a piece of tin leaning against it to keep out some of the rain. The floor was hard, packed dirt. We had immediately noticed a jagged, broken mirror leaning on the wall and decided to buy her a new one when we went into Santa Cruz on Wednesday to buy items for the house.

Is this really happening?

The mission trip to Honduras is history so I must record my observations so that they are not history as well. I was excited and scared when I arrived at the airport at 4 a.m. on Saturday, March 12th, for our flight to San Pedro Sula, Honduras. My brother, Jimmy, asked me, "Have you ever asked yourself, 'Is this really happening?'" Well, yes, I have!

I had that same feeling Sunday morning when I woke up in Honduras to the sound of strange birds and crowing roosters. After breakfast we hiked up Ambassador Mountain to see the grave of Charlie Smith, the founder of Heart to Honduras.

In the afternoon we visited the home of the women for whom we would be building a house during the week. Her name is Guadalupe and she has twin boys, Ande and Andre. When I wrote my blog about her the week before I left, I could not even imagine that a family could live in such a "house" as the place where Guadalupe and her family were living. It was basically a shed made of wooden slats with spaces between them and a hard, packed dirt floor. One of the things we noticed when we visited on Sunday was a broken piece of mirror propped up on the wall. We decided then we would buy her a new mirror at the end of the week.

On Sunday night we had a wonderful Tilapia dinner at a restaurant before visiting a local church for service. There was much singing and dancing. The children would pull our hands for us to come and dance with them. I am no dancer but they didn't give us an option. I noticed a little girl behind me was not dancing. She seemed shy. I smiled and took a clothes pin on which we had written "Amigo/Friend" off my shirt and clipped it on her shirt. Later, she tapped me and held out a dirty, NASCAR elastic hair band for me to put on my wrist. She was wearing one on her wrist. I felt guilty for taking it from her since they have so little but how could I turn down such a gift. I wore it faithfully for a week. I didn't get the little girl's name but I won't forget her generosity.

A House in a Week

I am leaving for Honduras in a day. The packing is done. The last minute motion sickness medicine has been bought. The "to-do" list is almost done. My sister and I had lunch today and visited with our mom in the nursing home. We told her that her three children were heading out on a missions trip to Honduras on Saturday. She and my dad were there on a missions trip in 1979. We are not sure she understood us but we felt good about telling her.

My sister asked me if I could even know how the woman in Honduras is feeling today knowing that in a week she will have a new home, one with a concrete floor. Honestly, I can't. I lived the first four years of my life without an indoor bathroom but I was too little to really care. I have never lived without electricity. I have certainly never lived on a dirt floor. I cannot even imagine such a thing. By this time next week, I will have a picture of that woman and her new house. I am hoping that by this time next week I will understand just a little bit how she feels.