restless

It’s late and I’m tired, which means I’m breaking two big rules of communication, but I feel restless and I think chatting with you in this format will help.

I sure am confused by the situation around me. The foundation of my world has really been rocked this week. I reach out for information but all I can gather are rumors and reports that contradict what I see with my eyes and feel in my heart.

I hope you don’t mind if I just ramble a bit over some disconnected themes cart-wheeling around in my head.

Last week I saw a group of poor farmers sell their vote for 500 Lempira ($25 or about 5 days pay). For hours this bothered me. I just couldn’t imagine selling my vote, my liberty, my democracy for $25. Then I began to realize that it was because my liberty and my democracy, the equitable rule of law, dependable security of my human rights, the freedom to do and be all that I could aspire to were a priceless blessing. Of course I would be offended at selling these things at any price. The more I thought about those poor farmers, about the injustice, insecurity and bondage that is their daily reality the more I realized that the $25 they were offered was way above market value.

I miss my dad. He would have wise words for me right now.

Over the last few days I have come to discover that many if not all of my opinions that have been formed over the years by listening to and reading the news are quite likely wrong. This is a humbling and troubling epiphany. If I wasn’t in Honduras right now, and didn’t have the front row view to all that is transpiring, if all I had was CNN and the other major mainstream news outlets to tell me this story, I would have a completely different opinion than I have about the situation. This means that over the years all of the other stories I have heard about places and events where I was not an eyewitness have very likely caused me to form a, at least partially if not completely, wrong opinion. This is a worldview shaking development.

What a funny thing it is to be so irritated by waiting. We have all we need. We are out of harms way (as far as I can tell). Other than the fact we had a PLAN to move over the weekend, there is no urgent necessity for us to be in our new place. I guess that’s really it. We had a PLAN. Our PLAN didn’t take priority of all of the other events happening in Honduras last weekend and now I’m ticked. I’m such a spoiled brat, always wanting my own way according to my schedule. How many opportunities have I missed to show someone love, to minister peace and to be bringer of good news all because I was miffed over the delay of my plan. Tomorrow I’m going to make the most of God’s plan for the day and leave the timing of my plan in His hands.

I walked down to get Chinese food for dinner. I had to go early to get back before the curfew started. As I walked through the crumbled streets, past the disheveled shacks and perky middle class houses that seemed to lean on each others shoulders, I got a bit misty. I have come to love the people inside those houses. Sure there will be new people to fall in love with in Balfate, but I can’t help but feel like there is unfinished business here. Did they see Jesus in us? Did they feel His love and draw nearer to Him because we were here? Do they know how much we will miss them?

Prior to Mel Zalaya’s announcement that he would return to Honduras on Thursday, the Catholic bishop announced that day as a day of prayer and fasting for the country. How prophetic. I will be joining in. Fasting has become one of my favorite ways to worship. It is so humbling to live and work amongst people who know the reality of hunger. I am brought low to think my inconvenient hunger can help me identify with them. They are the teachers, humility is the hardest lesson.

Well that is enough for now. I feel like I can take my rest.

Goodnight Father