Our team has returned home and will be gathering together 1 last time tomorrow evening to share our stories and memories from this year's trip.  We hope our blog has allowed you to follow our team during this year's trip to Choluteca, Honduras. 

Gringos to the Rescue

  Yesterday, on our last full day here in Honduras, with our house and dedication completed on schedule and other works done, we were able to enjoy a few hours at the beach. In years past, missionaries would be given the choice of going to the mountain top for a spectacular view or the beach. Usually, they picked the beach. I think now they no longer have a vehicle that can manage the incline well, but I am pretty sure we all wanted the beach anyways. We were worn, beaten, and empty both physically and mentally from the last week.  We were all excited for the opportunity for some rest and relaxation.  God, as it turns out however, had other plans.

   The hour drive to the beach was strange. It was by way of the regular paved road that one would expect, but then we also went through a seemingly booming little town with lots of stores on the street. The road was so narrow.  We went on gravel roads too through what were little neighborhoods of mostly shacks.  Finally, we got to the beach.  The Honduran beach on the Pacific is nestled in between Nicaragua and El Salvador such that you can see both of those countries just by standing on the sand looking out to the Pacific.  Nicaragua on the left and El Salvador to the right.

  There were large open shelters all along the beach with tables, chairs and hammocks underneath them. There were vendors walking around selling anything from shell jewelry to sweet desserts to some coconut thing that you drink from with a straw.  The black sand beach had a fairly steep decline to the water. When we arrived, we thought it was storming but it was the high tide waves crashing ashore that sounded like thunder. The water looked dangerous, and we figured we needed to wait until the tide receded to enjoy the water anywhere above our knees.

  So we laughed, relaxed and played in the sand. At one point, I was in the water goofing off (more than I thought base on others' later comments) in some stance that would secure me to endure the rush of water on my legs and not lose balance and doing so completely oblivious to what was enfolding right behind me.  At some point, apparently, Cindy and I think Cheryl and then Paula were yelling at me about a woman drowning in the water. I didn't hear. The waves were loud and too many other sounds were blending together. Then an image hit me that registered foreign to the moment. Paula and Nick were suddenly in my view.  What made the image register as an emergency was Seeing Nick in some tug-of-war position with an appendage of a very large woman. Paula was doing the same, but Nick's image made it instantaneously serious. I don't know Nick well, but what I have seen of him on this mission is a complete workhorse.  He digs in and gets to work.  The story is that he was up on the beach and made a mad dash in style with David Hasselhoff in Baywatch for this woman after hearing and seeing the need.

  My guess after the fact was this woman was 300 pounds, but that netted a gasp from Vanessa, our young interpreter.  Apparently, I was cruel in my guesstimating.  I then declared, well.. "If she wasn't 300, she was every bit of 270."  That seemed to be less cruel,  and it appeared to be accepted. Anyways, this woman had been sucked into the water up shore and had been rolling in and offshore on her journey to our point on the beach. The water was such a powerful force that the early attenders lost her at least a couple of times to the pull of the sea and had to wait for her to come back with each ensuing wave.

  When I finally became part of the struggle to save her, the result was no different at first.  At one point, Paula called out for me to grab her arm, because the sea's pull on this woman was going to drag her in as well as she held on to the woman's arm or leg.  Funny that I don't know which it was at the time, but it happened so fast and a lot of this was a blur.  Paula claims that she was going to have to let go let she be consumed herself, but I don't believe her.  I saw the effort and struggled in Paula's eyes and body and I had seen her work very hard at the worksite this last week. I still don't think she would have let go. So I grabbed Paula's arm and we survived this one pull of the sea.

  All this time, this woman's clothes were getting pulled off her by the sea and exposing her greatly. Who Cares!!!  A life was at stake. This woman, who was so tired from her struggled and couldn't make one effort to climb out of the water and was dead weight did somehow have the energy to keep trying to pull her shirt back on. Paula had to slap her hand at one point. There was no way that this group of three Gringos were going to drag her out of the water and up the beach incline.  With a receded wave, I saw an opportunity to get in a good position between this woman and the pull of the sea. My legs were strong and I could plant myself in some sort of yoga warrior pose and prevent the back and forth bobbing that was going on. It worked. It bought enough time and made us accessible enough that a Honduran came to be the fourth person at the scene that was willing and able to pull and lift her up out of the water. I directed him to grab a leg as the rest of us all did with the same with the other three limbs, and we all carried this woman belly down up the shore.  All the time I was looking away so this woman kept as much privacy as possible.

   Praise God that she was breathing and moving.  A couple dozen Hondurans surrounded her when she was set down.  I ran and got my towel so I could give it to Paula so she could be cover the lady.  And just as quickly as this whole thing started, we were done and walked away.  From a distance, I later saw her standing up still beaten by the sea but ok.  There was a beach full of Hondurans but it was only us one group of gringos that were there to save her. I truly believe that if it wasn't for Paula, Cheryl, Nick and myself, this woman would have drowned.  I apologize if I missed anybody that helped or if my recollection isn't complete.  It just happened so quick.

    I am not sure what God had in mind for this moment, but I am sure something was at work. It made me think of Ecclesiastes 3:11(NLT), "Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end."  It's sort of ironic that a week spent trying to save souls and serve others had us literally saving a life during our down time.  I have a couple expressions about God when he works in one's life.  I say "God can be a showoff sometimes" or "God's smart like that.  Even though we may say we saved a life in our last day in Honduras, I am pretty sure I speak for everyone that we give all credit to God for putting us there at that moment.  

Thanking God with every moment of every day of this mission trip, but I still praying that he wipes the image of the woman's exposure out of my mind. ;)  (I'm sure she'd appreciate the granting of that too!)

God Bless.

Aaron Mason.

last day of building

Today we finished the house. It was a great day, we expeireneced the house being presented to Santos and her family, Tony cooking everyone food, and saying bye to everyone on the mission field. I made a friend here in Honduras. Her name is Angela. She would never leave my side and constantly was saying Megan, diceseis y rosado. ( I'm 16 and my favorite color is pink) I would reply using the little Spanish i know. Earlier in the day she was drawing hearts and our names in the dirt. It broke my heart saying goodbye and took everything in me not to breakdown and cry while she told me she would miss me very much and she hopes to see me next year. At that moment it really hit me we won't be coming balck there will he no more hasta mañana.  Being here is incredible and has taught me so much. I cannot imagine not coming back and seeing how the communities will grow with their faith. Tomorrow we will go to the beach and one last church service. Then it is goodbye Honduras. It really is crazy how fast  the trip has gone bye.  I will forever remember this and I will take home so much more then what we gave to the people here in Honduras.

Role reversal

  Standing in the dusty lane they call a street and seeing the dedication and key ceremony for Santos and her boys took me back. It took me back to the beginning of the week when Santos was doing anything but smiling as we tore down her old house. Now, she is smiling from ear to ear and I am overcome with a sense of loss.
  We're done a the site. This is goodbye. Unless I come back on another mission I won't see this family again or any of the neighbor kids or neighbors.  I won't see little Victor and his endless energy and personality. The little girl who taught herself English and wrote "love" in a heart with one of the women on the mission. I won't work side-by-side with Orlando, Edgar, or their friends.  I won't be able to be silly at the work site and be rewarded with an honduran's observing smile.
  So as much as I am happy for the family and to have been a part of it all, I felt something missing as Tony and I rode standing in the back bed of that beaten down yellow pickup of Levi's. There was no laughing or joking around this time.  We just looked silently at the same buildings and people from the building site to the mission house, the same sites we saw many times by now, but we looked as though we took one long deep breath trying to take it all in and not let it out.
  God Bless Santos, her family and all these Honduran people we have met and grown to love.

Aaron Mason

Framing, Walls, Doors, and Windows

Yesterday we completed about 1/2 of the wall framing and 3 out of the 4 doors/windows.  We may complete this home this morning (Thursday), but with all of the help early in week we won't have any trouble completing the home and giving out the keys by Friday.  Working this week in the shade (a rare find in Honduras) has been a real blessing.

Sobs and smiles

   I don't know if Mandillo was 90 or 60. It's so hard to tell with the Honduran people in the community where we are building the house. I think they have lived such hard lives that their youthfulness flees too early.  While out visiting with people in their homes on Wednesday afternoon, we met Cindy and her family which included her brother, Mandillo, and I will never forget this strong man of God.
   This community is well accepting to talk of the Christian faith, but it is plagued by bad knowledge. So many feel hopeless that in the muck and mire of just existing day-to-day, there isn't much time to do the "good deeds" that in their mind would earn their way to heaven. When we asked Mandillo about his beliefs, he went into an animated preaching explanation. Not knowing any Spanish, I shouldn't have known what he said, but with each word, expression and look in his eyes, I knew exactly what he was saying as he was saying it. Our wonderful young translator, Vanessa, confirmed this understanding. That alone was a wonderful moment. But that was nothing.
  When we explained our faith, which matched his, and our reason for being here, the man... The rock of faith from just before... Broke down crying. It wasn't tears. It was sobbing. Sobs of Joy. Mandillo explained (as best as I can recall from the language barrier) that it is a Christian household. "We're all Christians. My sister... My sister has doubts an I pray to God to take those away.  God gave me a vision that we would be visited by people to save my sister (paraphrasing)". His sobs were of Joy for answer to prayer.
   Our group them proceeded to share out experiences and talk with his sister, Cindy.  We connected. I think for her to have foreigners from 2,000 miles away in her dirt floor house speaking a different language and show that we are experiencing the same issues of doubt and other burden of faith really hit home to her. She was moved. She believed, but she never let herself to really believe. In one very graceful God-given moment, the five of us and the household prayed as brothers and sisters in Christ. In that prayer, Cindy accepted Jesus as her savior and Mandillo and all his leathery wrinkles on his face grinned from ear to ear.
   That was just one moment from a very long blessed day

God Bless the people of Honduras.

Aaron Mason

Barbed Wire, concrete walls, and Hospitality

  We see barbed wire and barrier walls everywhere here in Homduras. Even the most modest houses make use of barbed wire.  As we go from location to location there are some houses that look comparable to what you would find in a good neighborhood in the U.S., but do they have that picturesque elevation from the street side?  No. There is most likely a very high concrete barrier wall with barbed wire over the top of it. Any outside yard enjoyment is probably in an enclosed courtyard like design.

   Seeing such things make me think of news reports that have Honduras slated as the murder capital of the world. I am told that the source of that dishonor is the northern part of the country.  Resources are so low that people have to do what they can to protect themselves and their family.  Even being told that about it being in the north, it should still be a scary thing to work in one of the poorest neighborhoods, but we've been doing that. Yesterday, we did something more. 

  For the first time, we walked through one of the neighborhoods. The neighborhood was a step up from where we were at. At least they had electricity. Did I feel unsafe? No. Ever since stepping off the plane here in Honduras, the people have been very friendly and hospitable. More so than the U.S. By far. In the U.S. We walk around with imaginary concrete walls and barbed wire around ourselves. I just think that it is amazing that in a country where they have to resort to actual mom-figurative  barbed wire and concrete walls, that they can be so much more friendly. 

   For a brief period yesterday, we split up and walked a neighborhood. My group met a gentleman named Henry. He welcomed us into his home and we spent almost an hour and a half talking to him. It was very nice meting the man. Despite the language and cultural differences, I could relate to many aspects of his life and I learned way more by looking ink his eyes than any words from the interpreter. It was a really rewarding experience. Hopefully, I'll see Henry a church on Saturday, but it was sort of an empty feeling walking away from his house knowing that I may never find out more about him.

God Bless,

Aaron Mason