A Whole New World

Although it was 6:00 in the morning, excitement coursed through my veins as I boarded the plane. But just as I settled in my seat, the flight attendant announced that, due to weather in Miami, we would now be getting OFF the plane. I inwardly groaned. Since when was weather a problem in MIAMI?! I trudged back into the airport, curled up with my blanket, and tried to sleep in the infamously uncomfortable airport chairs.

Thirty minutes later, a woman announced that our departure time was still unknown. I thanked God that I had a three hour layover in Miami. Or did. Every half hour, the woman would announce that there was no change in the situation. After over two hours of broken sleep, I started to get nervous. I was fairly certain that if I missed my connection, I would have to spend the night in the Miami airport. Finally, around 9, we REboarded the plane, this time actually making it off the ground. I let out a sigh of relief as the world beneath me faded away as if being hit by the invisible beams of a giant shrink ray. I watched the matchbox cars race around their tracks toward Monopoly houses until fluffy clouds suddenly blocked them from view like a crimson curtain closing on the last scene of a play, or like my heavy eyelids finally forcing me into a dreamless sleep.

After a rushed layover and an uneventful flight from Miami to Teguc., I dragged my ridiculously heavy suitcase off the baggage claim, inwardly scolding myself for packing so many books. During the car ride from Tegucigalpa to the ranch where I would stay, my eyes were glued to the window.

Honduras looked very much as I’d imagined. A film of dust covered the trees and buildings. Tiny mud houses cluttered the roadside, looking like they’d crumble with little more than a huff and a puff. An hour or so later, we reached the sleepy little town of Ojojona. The dirt roads, occasional man on horseback, and dusty sepia tones made me feel like I was touring the set of an old western. Only, this was no tour. This was home. And although I don’t pretend to be a city girl, that came as a bit of a shock.

My first week was exhausting. I quickly learned that the “girly girl” part of my personality could not survive here. My manicure was destroyed within two days, my hair was poofy, and it took everything I had not to scream bloody murder when a freakishly large spider scuttled across the floor. The hardest part, though, was learning to live with two very loud and energetic little girls. For the first few days, entertaining them sucked the energy out of me like a vacuum, and I found myself crashing in my bed before I could even turn off the light.

Little by little, though, I adapted to the very different style of life. And once I could wash dishes with cold water, bounce a fussy baby while reading a book, and come up with an endless supply of Disney pretend games, I was ready to start working with the kids on the ranch.

As I rode on the bus to pick up kids for guitar class, I was excited to meet the children for the first time. I smiled, remembering the swarm of children in Peru smothering me with questions and kisses on my first day. I expected to receive a similar welcome here. However, as the kids boarded the bus, I didn’t get so much a second look. Surprised, I tried to make conversation with the child nearest to me. He answered my questions with as few words as possible and then moved to the back to sit with his friends. I tried not to be hurt and wondered why the kids here were so shy and reserved.

Throughout the week, it was like pulling teeth to get the kids to talk to me. They were the complete opposite of the children I was used to working with. But this only made me more determined to earn their trust.

Finally, after two guitar classes, youth group, and Sunday school, the ice was broken. I arrived at the property to find seven giggling girls waiting for the first arts and craft class to begin. The three girls that had ridden the bus with me fought to grab my hand and drag me into the church. The smiles I’d been waiting for spread across every face as they waited to start. We had a short Bible study, and then I got out materials to paint stained glass crosses. Every girl called my name, begging me to admire their work. As some of them finished, I pulled out several bottles of nail polish, and the mob I’d expected on day one instantly formed around me. Grubby, sticky hands grabbed the polishes and waved them in my face. And since my brain couldn’t begin to understand the chorus Spanish voices screaming in my ears, I was content to mull over the fact that God had placed me exactly where I was supposed to be.

Landing in Tegucigalpa

Me with my new little sisters: Tabi and Naomi

first Wednesday class with the girls

Breci painting her stained glass cross

Nail mania

Other Pictures

Teaching English (W=DUH-BUL-YOO)

Holding Tobi

Nubia making a friendship bracelet

Second Wed. girls class: friendship bracelets

recorder class: slightly organized chaos