Heading Home: Honduras 2016

Although it never used to be, but January is quickly becoming my favorite month of the year. I spend time with my family and friends in my beloved hometown in the States, I spend entirely too much time on airplanes traveling to destinations that most people don't know exist/ confuse with a more popular country (no, Taiwan and Thailand aren't the same country and Honduras isn't in Africa), I eat weird foods, I set foot in my tierra amada where I get to hug my babies every day and have coffee with friends, and then just as life out of suitcase starts to be too much, I return back to Brazil as summer is coming to a close and spend my days at the beach.

It's a hard life, but someone has to do it. And I volunteer as tribute.

As I did last January, I flew to Honduras this year to spend ten precious days with some of my favorite people. I spent four days in Siguatepeque hanging out with my kiddos and visiting my old stomping grounds and then spent the next six days on the missions trip with Pilgrim.

The homecoming was phenomenal. There's really nothing like driving into your old hometown; seeing the restaurants where you used to eat every week, passing the same vendors selling the same goods at the same spot on the side of the road, smelling the scent of burning trash which is somehow simultaneously gross and comforting, walking into the four walls that you called home and opening your arms to the students who taught you how to be a teacher and the friends who walked beside you as your navigated life in a place so far outside of your comfort zone. 

We laughed. We laughed so much. We worked on Language homework (which is more fun when Miss Caitlin isn't your teacher anymore). We completed Reading Logs (which are still a drag). We played soccer. We went out for coffee/ lemonade. We dined together for breakfast, or lunch, or dinner. We spoke English and we spoke Spanish. For four short days, we were doing life together again.

And then on Sunday, some of my favorite people from Pilgrim came down and I got to spend a week showing them my beautiful city. Our days were spent in the mountains singing "Un simple muchacito que se llamaba David" ("Only A Boy Named David"), painting nails, and having VBS with the local children. In the afternoons, we really lived the Honduran experience-- which included riding in the back of pick-up trucks, eating at Norberta's, driving up a mountain to buy fireworks and then shooting them off in the middle of the street, and eating ice cream at the Mennonite store. 

I think I was Honduran in a past life. Truly. There's no other way to explain the love I have for these people and this country; how at home I feel when stepping off the plane and how devastating it is to leave.

It's my dream in life that everyone can experience Honduras, and, hopefully, love it as much as I do. For those people who can't physically go to Honduras, for whatever reason, I used my top notch iMovie skills to put together a video montage of my favorite week of the year. This is Siguatepeque. This is our Honduras.

My Honduran Life.

I feel like I haven't crossed a ton of things of my Honduran bucket list, yet at the same time, feel like I am always doing something. Usually those somethings are meetings or teaching or tutoring which is the real reason I'm here, but isn't much to write home about.

So here goes; my Honduran, child wrangling, baleada eating life. In no particular order.

I saw Vilma yesterday, my heart is super, super happy when I see her. We only spend about five to ten minutes together each week, but its the best five to ten minutes of my week. We hang out, chat about life, hug a lot, and tell each other how much we love each other. She's told me that I'm her best friend and her older sister and that she misses me on the weeks when I don't get to see her. Be still my Honduran lovin' heart.

We went up to Lago de Yojoa on Saturday for a little weekend getaway. I ate a fish. And I liked it. I did not appreciate the cold temperatures or the motion sickness however.

 

Skyped with some of my sister friends this weekend. Google+ was created for long distance friendships. I can see this becoming a weekly habit, for sure. Like I've always said, I love being here, but I love catching up with everyone from home. Things haven't changed on the homefront either. All of us trying to talk over each other about something super dramatic and life altering.

 

High School Cultural Day was last Friday. I ate my weight in tradition Honduran food. And didn't regret a bite of it. They also had some animals in cages that were attracting the students attention. Like the SQUIRRELS. This is not a joke. They had squirrels in cages and they were the biggest hit with all the kids. Squirrels. Not even joking. These children would have a field day on Ashland's campus.

I was harassed by my Grade Twos for about twenty minutes about not having a boyfriend. Which resulted in them drawing pictures of me with random male teachers at the school. Of which there about 5. Most of whom are married. Awesome. No wonder you guys are failing spelling. In the midst of their harassment, they asked me why I had my hair braided and if it was "to make me more beautiful for my boyfriend." I wasn't aware that was how it worked, but had I known, I would have saved myself a lot of heartbreak in high school.

In Grade One we were practicing words that begin with B. I was taking some suggestions from the students as to which words would be written on the board and then copied into their final projects. I received the usuals-- boy, bear, book. And then I got booty and boobie. Unfortunately, those two words just didn't make the cut.

And there you have it folks. A day in my life. What a life it is.

Te quiero...

...como si fuera mi hermana.

 

Being abroad for extended periods of time opens my eyes to things that I am aware of while I am in the States, but tend to forget. Such as how many wonderful people bless my life. I know, everyone things that they have the best friends, the best family, the best life. But really, that's how I feel.

 

I go to bed each night thanking God for blessing me with such fantastic people to interact with on a daily basis. On Tuesday, God gets an extra dose of thankfulness.

 

Typically I go to Bible Study at the Pastor's house on Tuesdays. Who happens to live right next door to Vilma. Life is perfect, right? I went the first Tuesday I was here (really, four days off the plane) and our reunion was everything my heart needed, yet not what I ever could have imagined. Week two was the reunion that I dreamt about for the past four years. Fast forward FOUR weeks and I'm just getting around to seeing Vilma again. It's amazing how I went four years without seeing her and, while it felt like a long time, it seemed manageable. Now here I am living in the same city and four weeks was pretty unbearable.

 

 

I was picked up by the pastor and a couple of my friends and we made the bumpy trek up to his house. I saw Vilma's house, but didn't see anyone outside. I looked over my shoulder as we drove past and there she was standing at the door. Ughh, precious. We went inside, socialized for a few seconds, and then I came back outside with Lorena. And there was Vilma, standing outside looking up at the house. I waved, she waved,  and she started runnng up the hill.



 

 

We legitimately greeted each other with an embrace just like this. Smiling, running into each other's arms. Be still my heart. We chatted a little, she corrected my Spanish. And then we began throwing rocks at a post to see who could hit it the most. (Just throwing it out there, I won.)

 

We threw rocks for quite some time before we said our good-byes. I might need to find a bigger bag of tricks for when my Spanish skills run out, but, for today, she and I were just having so much fun together. We were saying our good-byes, which isn't a short process, but involves lots of hugging, kissing, and "te quiero"ing. As we were hugging, she looked at me and said "Te quiero. Te quiero mucho. Te quiero como si fuera mi hermana." I love you. I love you a lot. I love you as if you were my sister.

 

Me too, Vilma. Me too.

And Now I Feel Complete.

My heart has been so happy since arriving in Honduras. I hear more Spanish than I know what to do with, my students call me "Mees", the food is good for your soul, the people (Honduran and North American) are so friendly, and I get to see Miss Vilma every single week. It'd be enough for me to just see her, but I actually get to hug her and talk to her and just be with her.

 

Her TENTH birthday was on Monday. TEN. She was five when I saw her last and now she is double digits. She's just as precious and as wonderful as she is when I left her four years ago. Sindy, Yessenia, Lorena, and I went to the grocery store on Tuesday to buy her some cupcakes and to buy fod to cook dinner for Bible study. We grabbed a taxi up to the pastor's house and my chef skills were put to the test. (Let's just say that I still have a lot to learn.)

 

While cooking dinner, the pastor's wife and I stood on the balcony and shouted down to Vilma's house. She was doing so much better this week than last week. I mean, anything would have been an improvement, but she was actually walking around and smiling and talking. We told her that we would be down after cooking, so to stay around the house.

 

I was mentally rushing these people to cook faster. Did I say that I was cooking? I was mostly just offering moral support. After what seemed like ages, our spaghetti was done cooking and we made the walk down to Vilma's house. I was smiling the ENTIRE time. I'm not exaggerating at all when I say that just the idea of seeing her again puts the hugest smile on my face.

 

We got to her house and lit the candles on her cupcakes. Lorena, Sindy, and Yessenia were shouting at her to come out of the house, her mom was shouting at her to get out of the house. I was mentally telling her to get outside because I didn't actually know how to say that in Spanish. Come on, sunshine, your house isn't that big. You can hear us shouting, you know I'm here, let's move it.

 

And then she came outside.
 

She had changed into her nicest dress to show us for her birthday. She had been washing her face and doing her hair. I took back everything I had mentally scolded her for. We sang to her and she blew out her candles. She and I never broke eye contact. Our expressions mirrored each other's-- smiles that covered our whole faces while never breaking eye contact.

 

 

As soon as we were done singing, she ran into my arms. We hugged for such a long time, but it wasn't long enough. She told me that she loves me and then we had a brief conversation where both of us teared up from sheer happiness.  She ran into her house and brought out a framed picture off of her entertainment center-- a picture of her and I with Traci from the last time I was in Honduras. I couldn't wipe the silly smile off of my face.
 



Sorry for being so sweaty.


Our communication is hindered due to the language barrier and the fact that I absolutely freeze when I have to use Spanish, but we don't really need to talk too much. Just being together is enough. She and I both know that. She and I both accept that.

 

Happy Birthday, beautiful. I'm so blessed to have spent this wonderful milestone with you.

The Reunion Of A Lifetime.

Drumroll, please.

If there is one moment in my life that I have thought about and dreamt about for many years, this moment would be it. The moment that I would see sweet Vilma again.

It seems silly. Having your life drastically altered by someone you only knew for five days. Especially when that person was only four years old at the time. But it was. I thought about her every single day. That little girl impacted my life more in five days than some people have done in years.
And I finally got to see her again.

I tried not to get my hopes up when thinking about our reunion. (And yes, she was a big part of why I came down to Siguatepeque.) If I dreamt big and the reunion didn't live up to my standards, I would be devastated. I spent a long time trying to convince myself that she wouldn't remember me or that she wouldn't want to see me.

I was wrong, of course. She did remember me. And she did want to see me. But the reunion was nothing like I had imagined it.

I was riding in the back of the pastor's car, slowly beginning to recognize my surroundings as I realized that we were approaching her house. I turned around in my seat and I saw her sitting on her front step with her mom. I had to choke back tears. I would recognize her anywhere and it made me so happy to just see her. We got up to the pastor's house and Lorena, Yessenia, and I walked down to Vilma's house. I was SO nervous. I had butterflies, I wanted to cry, I almost vomited, I couldn't stop smiling. I was a trainwreck.

We got to her house and saw that she was holding her head in her hands with blood on her shirt. It was a terribly inappropriate time to not be able to stop smiling, but I was just so happy to see her. As it turns out, someone had thrown a rock at her and it cut her head, hence the blood and tears. It took her a few seconds to recognize me, but as soon as she did, she had the biggest smile on her face. As big as it can be when you are crying in pain, I suppose. Lorena asked if she remembered me and she smiled and nodded. I just kept smiling at her-- THAT happy.

Her mom was tending to her wounds and not really paying attention to us standing there. She finally looked up, stared at me, and her hand flew to her chest. She kept saying "Ay Dios Mio, ay Dios Mio." She said that she was shocked to see me and couldn't stop smiling when I said that I was going to be here for a whole year. A neighbor lady was at the house and said something about "the girl from the picture". Vilma's mom said that she looks at our pictures every day and talks about me all the time. She and I could not stop smiling at each other.

When we were getting ready to go back up to the pastor's house, Vilma stood up and hugged and kissed me despite all of her tears. She told me that she loved me and I told her that I would see her again soon.

It was so far from the reunion that I had imagined I would have with her. I actually couldn't have imagined this being the reunion that she and I would have with each other. But somehow, it was just what my heart needed. I felt so happy after seeing her. I remembered why she means so much to me. I cannot put into words what it means to me that I am able to see her every week for the next year.