Thanksgiving

“Give thanks to the Lord, call on his name; make known among the nations what he has done.” – Psalm 105:1

As most holidays do in Honduras, Thanksgiving snuck up on me this year. Maybe I do not realize the holidays approaching because there is no change in weather (at least not one that involves snow), Hondurans do not celebrate all the same holidays we do in the States, or there is not a nauseating amount of commercials selling the holidays. Whatever the reason is, I find myself kind of having to convince myself that it is the holiday season. Thankfully my daily devotional book helped steer me in the right direction. Around Thanksgiving all of the entries were themed around ‘gratitude’ so I got to meditate and reflect on what I am thankful for. One titled, “An Act of Gratitude,” offered these thoughts:

“We know both by way of Scripture and by the impulses in our hearts that God is to be thanked. There is no way to understand the profound implications of His grace and to remain thankless in our attitude… God’s grace is deeply personal, but it is not private. Scripture tells us repeatedly that God desires a reputation among our families and among the nations… His goodness is too good to keep to ourselves.” (from, The One Year walk with God Devotional)

I could not agree more with those words. I find myself captivated by what the Lord has done for me and just wanting to shout my joy to the world! I love telling stories to my friends and family that highlight God’s greatness. He blows me away, and I just want others to experience that kind of impact. After reading this particular devotional my mind instantly began thinking about the praises of thanks that I have for my Heavenly Father. Across the country, on November 28, people sat around their dinner tables with their friends and family, and shared what each one was thankful for. Now it’s my turn. So pull up a chair around my festively decorated and deliciously adorned table, and listen to the things that I could never stop thanking the Lord for blessing me with:

My mom, dad, and sister. These people have immensely influenced the woman I am today. They have shaped me throughout the years into someone that they can be proud of. I am thankful for my mom always listening to my trials and patiently talking me through them; for teaching me how to live the life I love with the right people; and for accepting all my quirks as her ‘very special’ daughter. I am thankful for my dad lavishing me with his unconditional love; for being honest with me whenever I need it most; and for supporting my love of baseball and ice cream. I am thankful for my sister for never succeeding in killing me when we were younger; for being an inspirational image of self-discipline and perseverance; and for forgiving me for the countless times I have made mistakes. I would not be at this stage in my life without their support and love every time I’ve taken a risk and embarked on some new, crazy endeavor. (I look forward to that same support with whatever lies ahead.)

A place to always call home. I have been a bit of a nomad in the past years, but I have always been comfortable enough in a place to call it home. Home is where the heart is and my heart has found peace and rest in all the places I’ve chosen to live. I love being able to go home home to Colorado and still find my family and bed there. I will always have a home in West Michigan as long as my college friends stay there. And now I have a new Spanish home in Honduras. I become attached to each group of people that I surround myself with in these places, and they slowly all turn into family. I thrive on and appreciate that comfort.

My friends. Isn’t it so cliché that as the years go by you figure out who your real friends are? The crowd thinned after high school, then again after college, and even more frighteningly while in Honduras. I am sure of the people that I call my closest friends. I can trust and depend on them. They bring out the best in me in very different ways. And they bring with them countless silly memories and the hope of even more ridiculous ones in the future. My love for them is deep and although I’m not really sure how we got to be such great friends, I know the Lord handpicked every single one of them for me.

Silly material things. (I do not intend this section to make me come across as materialistic and/or high maintenance. I just really really appreciate the things on this list.) I can survive without a lot of the luxuries that I would find in my house in the States. In fact, I don’t even realize most things that are ‘missing’ from my Honduran life. However, there are, and will forever be, a few things that I genuinely miss and send up extra prays of thanks to God whenever I encounter them. Soft things: carpet, bathrobes, comforters, fabric softener, couch cushions. Dish washers and washing machines. Paved roads. Cute shoes and dresses. Hot and pressurized showers. Running water that I can drink. Coffee shops.

My education. I am a teacher so my life revolves around education, but I am very thankful for it. I can complete simple tasks such as read a book, write my name, and communicate with people. I have been blessed to learn a new language and travel the world putting it into practice. I learn more and more each day from the material I have to teach my students or what I hear other teachers doing. I am surrounded by a lack of education here and I am painfully aware of how limited people can be. My options are endless with the education I grew up with and I never want to spend a single day wasting it.

My job. I am lucky to have a job that pays me sufficiently. I never feel like I have to budget, live pay check to pay check, or go without. More importantly, I am fortunate to have a job that I love. I get to fulfill my calling by serving the Lord and teaching children at the same time. It is not common to be able to praise God frequently in the work place. I am surrounded by encouraging and supportive co-workers (a special thanks goes to Kara and Lenny who also decided to come back for a second year – I could not survive without them) who listen to my struggles, give me advice, and rely on student-humor as much as I do to get through each day. I am also blessed to work in a place where my business and social lives mix regularly. That may sound like a nightmare to most people, but I truly enjoy getting to know the other teachers and all my students on a deeper, personal level.

My students. They deserve their own category because of how much joy they bring to my life every single day. Even when I do not deserve it, they shower me with hugs and love. Their precious giggles and toothless smiles, their tiny hands fitting into mine, and their squeaky voices struggling with English, light up my life. I can never seem to get enough of how cute they are! I feel like I learn more from them then they probably learn from me. They teach me patience, forgiveness, simplicity, and youthfulness. We spent a lot of class time in November talking about things we were thankful for. On our last day before break I had them share what they are most thankful for with, what else but the traditional hand turkeys! Here are their responses:

I want to leave you with this thought that also came from my devotional. It reminds me that all my actions should be a demonstration of my gratitude to the Lord. I would not be able to say “thank you” for any of the things without the love and mercy of our Creator. He is in control of it all and can take it away as easily as he gave it to me. I would rather be continually praising him than hiding all those wonderful things like a secret: “Thanksgiving is good, but thanksliving is better.” – Matthew Henry

Hope in Honduras

How often do you have that feeling of, ‘Wow, what a small world’? You just kind of laugh to yourself and think, ‘That’s bizarre!’ The world seems smaller when that moment happens in a city or state other than where your home is, but it gets even tinier when you are in a totally different country. One minute it’s completely mind-blowing, but then in another the fog clears and maybe you begin to understand why God put certain people in your life.  

I had that thought recently as one particular event blew the socks right off my feet and I was left dumbfounded at how coincidental life is! Jake (my boss) got an email from a college admissions counselor from Hope College saying that he was in charge of international recruiting and would be in Honduras for a visit. He wondered if there was any way to coordinate a visit with our school. Now, the craziness was not that a representative from Hope would be here, the unbelievable part was who the man was. It was none other than my very own admissions counselor, Gary Camp! When I was at the ripe age of 18 and beginning my college search I met Gary Camp when I applied to Hope. I do not hesitate to give him a large majority of the credit as to why I chose to attend Hope College. He is such an enthusiastic individual about the school and he was more than helpful with my search in general. When Jake asked me if I knew a “Gary Camp,” I almost fell of my chair! My jaw dropped to the floor and I said that of course I knew him; I knew him quite well (and he loves me)!

It was disappointing when the initial plans of a visit fell through once Gary realized that our particular school is out in the middle of nowhere. He would only be visiting San Pedro Sula and Tegucigalpa and we were not en-route to either city. A little while later I sent him an email asking if it was not going to work out to come to La Unión, could he at least offer some advice that I could pass on to our students who were applying to Hope? This time it became clear that we did in fact have a chance of meeting up with him! He was traveling with a recruiter from Michigan State University and she had family in Santa Barbara so they would be spending the weekend there. For those of you who do not know (which is most likely everyone) Santa Barbara is one of two cities that La Unión offers busses to and from. (Basically it’s one of our only ways to get out of here.) Can you feel the world growing smaller?

I emailed him at precisely the right time – a week before his arrival in Honduras. We jumped at this unique opportunity instantly. Unfortunately Gary was suffering from the flu so he did not think it would be good for his health to travel to La Unión, and would rather use that time to rest. Good thing we are nothing but adaptable here. Instead we started making plans to bring some students to Santa Barbara to meet him for an informational and conversational breakfast. There were a few factors working against us: the internet I was relying on to keep our email correspondence alive kept going in and out or getting killed, and he was traveling around other Central American countries so the emails I could get out were bounced back to me with an automated ‘out of the office’ response. I did not tell the students in advance because I didn’t want to get their hopes up only to destroy those, or ask them to give up valuable time that might be wasted. As the potential day drew closer, I was losing confidence in the meeting actually happening.

It came together at the very last minute and in a complete blur. Friday night I finally got a hold of Gary via telephone. We struggled through a conversation with poor reception and my even worse over-the-phone Spanish abilities (that failed me when trying to receive directions from his chauffer) but agreed on meeting up Sunday morning for a couple of hours. Saturday morning Jake and I wandered around La Unión trying to track down students and see how much interest we could accumulate. Some students were more difficult than others to get a hold of (they were not at home, some were at their homes which happen to be in other towns, and even others do not have cell phones to call) but eventually word got around to the right people and everyone we asked agreed to go. I found a truck to drive us and the next day I would accompany one 10^th grade, four 11^th grade, and six 12^th grade students to Santa Barbara.

It is the rainy season so we left earlier than usual just in case the roads were too muddy or something happened to the car. We could not all fit inside the truck so the boys had to ride in the bed; they were hesitant at first and even toyed with the idea of not going because they did not want to be rained on at any point. I told them to suck it up and get in the car, and they obediently listened. I proceeded to pray for the entire car ride – there and back – that the Lord would hold the rain off so that this trip would be sincerely worth it for every single student. How great is our God? The greatest! Despite the ever ominous clouds, it did not rain until the moment that we arrived back in La Unión and the driver dropped me (the last person) off at my house. How incredible is that?!

The day only got better. The breakfast was perfect. Gary did an excellent job of telling students all about studying at Hope and other universities in the States in general. Since this is our first graduating class, no one has ever ventured down this road before. He explained the differences between colleges and universities, and defined a liberal arts school (giving them an idea of what kind of institution they might prefer). Of course he focused heavily on Hope, but that painted a picture of what attending a college in the States would look like for them. He talked about how Hope is looking to grow its international population on their campus – especially with students from countries other than China, Japan, and Korea – and the fervor that the school has to bring them there (offering an instant scholarship upon acceptance and not requiring any test scores). Money was the biggest topic he discussed because all of these students would need some kind of financial help; he was honest about their circumstances but optimistic in how they could make it work. At the end he sat down individually with the five 12^th graders who were serious about Hope just to have a quick interview and really stick a face to their names.

The meeting was beneficial for everyone involved. Although Gary barely got to eat his breakfast because he was talking so much, the students were incredibly engaged. They came with information they researched about Hope and countless questions. The 12^th grade students got a stronger idea of whether or not they wanted to study at Hope, and how to narrow down their college search in general. The younger students were able to better decide if studying abroad is really what they desire and if the application process is worth going through for them. Essentially, all the students were much more informed on the process of applying and better understood what it takes to study abroad. Gary said that he loved meeting these students, hearing their stories, and seeing their passion for receiving an education in the United States. He gave me a few ideas to really encourage a few of them in their application process, to give them that extra edge; and the thought of them attending my alma-mater makes my heart beat a little faster. Knowing that Gary was impressed with them makes me very proud of who these students are and how they present themselves.

Gary and I got to catch up a bit too, which was wonderful. I truly enjoyed seeing a familiar face and having a taste of home in Honduras. My mind wandered back to when he first became a part of my life. Who knew that he would have this kind of presence in my life? He help shaped my future by drawing me to Hope, and now he gets to play a role in potentially bringing the students that I teach to Hope as well. There was a reason that Gary and I bonded so strongly 6 years ago. Of course neither Gary nor I could have predicted it, but I’m sure God smiled down on us as it clicked in our minds. There’s no telling where we will meet in the future, but I’m positive that our two, small worlds will collide again!

Please be praying for the students who are applying to attend a university in the United States. They are trying to figure out where to apply, and are even starting to turn in their applications. It is a daunting process since they come from a different country and don’t have fixed financial support, but God is in control of it. I know that it will become clear to them where they should study and their education will somehow be paid for. I wish I could instill this kind of peace-of-mind into them, but they need to find it on their own. Until then, pray with me that they are confident in their applications and chances of studying abroad. Going to the States is an enormous dream for them and I cannot wait to see it achieved and unfold before their eyes. 

Domesticated

Alright all you ladies out there, notify your sons, brothers, and grandsons because this girl knows how to cook! The (single and appropriate-aged) men in your lives should start lining up right now before a Honduran man sweeps me off my feet.

There are a few contributing factors as to why my culinary skills have blossomed:

                1) Honduras does not have a lot of variety in their cuisine which often leaves me yearning for foods I used to devour back home. Especially since I live in such a rural setting, the local grocery stores do not have a lot to offer. When I say there are staples – beans, rice, corn tortillas, cornflakes, and eggs – I literally mean that those foods are the foundation to almost any dish for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The amount of beans and eggs that I eat is startling. While the sight of those foods does not turn me off just yet, I am not always doing cartwheels over seeing chicken parts, beans, and rice served for lunch. It’s hard to make those foods anything other than bland.  I have taken it upon myself to make, from scratch, the foods I dearly miss from home. As I mentioned, my resources are limited so I cannot make everything that I drool over thinking about, but you would be surprised with what I have been able to make! (Thank goodness there is an abundance of flour, sugar, salt, and oatmeal here.)

                2) I am not so secretly concerned about my health while living here. I am thankful for the woman who cooks me lunch every day at school, because otherwise I would be completely malnourished. I am losing weight despite eating at least one pack of cookies a day. At least I can count on her meals to give me some much-needed nutrition. My body can only run for so long on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cereal, and nachos. In an effort to keep my nutrition levels from reaching extreme lows, I’ve explored how can turn simple ingredients to deliciously nutritious meals.

                3) Especially since this is my second year, I suddenly have a lot more time on my hands. I could probably contribute that to no tv, internet, cell phone, malls, movie theaters, etc. as well, but since I already put in a huge amount of time planning lessons and making worksheets and tests last year, I am lucky to not have to dedicate my whole life to that again. Simply put: I get bored. There is no quick way to eat a great meal; there are no restaurants or fast-food joints, or meals in cans or frozen and ready in 10 minutes. I have the time to learn and patiently prepare a meal AND wash all the dishes afterwards. (That’s right – I cook and clean! Double whammy.)

All of these factors have driven me to work on my future house-wife skills. I used to be pathetic in the kitchen, relying solely on my abilities to grill a cheese sandwich, pour milk into a bowl of cereal, and stir sauce into pasta. But now, I am impressive. Not only can I whip up delicious food, but I am creative with my cooking too! I can’t take all the credit – I’ve had some great roommates that come up with scrumptious ideas as we feed of each others’ imaginations. We like to collaborate and turn our meager kitchen into a 5-star restaurant. They say the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, right? I will definitely be able to keep my husband’s belly satisfied.

I genuinely wish I had photo evidence of everything I have cooked, just to prove to all my doubters out there that yes, I did in fact cook these foods. But I do not, so please take my word for it, and maybe one day you will be lucky enough to stick your fork into one of my dishes. Here is the official list that qualifies me to be a fantastic, cooking wife one day:

-          fresh bread

-          cinnamon rolls

-          chicken puffs (despite not have crescent rolls)

-          roasted vegetables

-          French fries

-          cheesecake

-          curry

-          sweet and sour chicken

-          chocolate-chip oatmeal cookies (that bring the 12^th graders to their knees)

-          onion rings

-          apple sauce

-          berry crumble

-          corn bread

-          oatmeal banana muffins

-          deviled eggs

-          pretzels

-          pumpkin spice cake

-          pizza

-          fruit tarts

-          brown sugar papayas

-          brownies

-          chocolate pudding

-          omelettes

-          a variety of mouth-watering smoothies

-          baleadas (I have learned a few Honduran traditions)

-          plantains 

I’m sure there are few things missing from the list, but you get the gist. My delicate hands have created some amazing meals that have even shocked me. I am starting to gain some recognition and my treats are now in high demand. I have had help from recipes, specifically from a delightful book called the "Alpha-Bakery" (made for children, but with such simple recipes that Honduras can accommodate them). My roommate, Rachel, and I are considering our own cooking series: The Honduran Household - Cooking Through the Alpha-Bakery. Keep your eyes peeled and stay tuned for the exciting cooking endeavors ahead of us. So there it is. Eat your heart out men; I have become quite the catch with my new and improved cooking skills. 

(I hope while reading this, I did not convince you that I am serious about the whole 'house-wife' thing. To be a good, domesticated woman is not one of my life goals. I'm just really proud of my cooking skills. I know they will be put to greater use than filling the stomach of a man.)

BOOKS!

You get a book! You get a book! YOU get a book! Everyone gets a book!

I felt like Oprah Winfrey handing out prizes to her audience when our special delivery arrived. For those of you who do not know my mom’s church has been incredible with donating money to our school here. The church itself decided to give their yearly missions fund to the Abundant Life School (specifically) in La Unión, and more donations have been pouring in from individual members. I could not even begin to describe the gratitude and appreciation I have in my heart for this kind of financial support! Since it is my mom’s church, Jake decided that I should be in charge of the money and decide where, when, and how to use it. I agreed with the idea of giving a face, a representative, to the money, but that is still quite a large responsibility! I spent a small portion of the money on things for my classroom – decorations, books, and school and arts supplies – but then had to wrestle with a variety of ideas of what to do with the rest of it. I guess I should not necessarily say that I ‘wrestled’ with the idea because it was clear to me how I wanted to spend the money so that everyone could benefit from these gracious donations. I wanted to buy the one thing that every teacher should be able to rely on when no other resources exist: textbooks.

Background: we do have textbooks. Every grade is equipped with some various form of textbook possession. The issue has always been the quantity and quality of the books. Not every subject has a complete class set of the textbook used. If there are enough books, the number of usable ones becomes the next question. Most of the books have seen better days… 10 years ago. There are pages missing or hanging in by a corner, the covers are ripped in half or bent in every direction except for flat, and the dirt stains are startling enough to dissuade anyone from picking the book up in the first place. These less-than-desirable conditions result in many teachers being forced to make ridiculous amounts of copies of each textbook, requiring students to share, or relying on their handmade pictures or worksheets to supplement the ‘reading’ material. Our textbook situation just wasn’t ideal.

Unfortunately our administration in Tegucigalpa has not been the most helpful or crucial in acquiring our essential textbooks. Some classes either need textbooks to begin with or the old ones desperately need to be replaced. My time to spend had arrived. Jake finally got through to someone in the administration in Teguc to order some books, and once he got the list of what they would provide our school with I could fill in the holes by buying the rest. I felt like a superhero swooping in to the save the day. Except I’m not the one who deserves credit; if you have ever donated money to me or my school, YOU are the superhero (wearing the tights and flowing cape – dang, you look good)!

A mission group planned to come down at the end of October and they were going to be our mules. We ordered 150 pounds worth of textbooks to be delivered to their homes and then transferred down here. With this particular shipment came textbooks, teacher’s editions, test and quiz booklets, and keys for history (for Lenny), math (for Jake, Kara, me, and Mrs. Soto), and science (for my little ones). God bless those people for stuffing their suitcases and hauling that precious load all the way to our tiny town. I want to take this opportunity to just praise the Lord for those people – would you do the same? I am so thankful for the hands that brought them to us. They cannot know how grateful we are for finally having these indispensable resources and being able to teach our students properly. It was like Christmas watching them unload all those books from their suitcases; I almost cried from joy and nothing could have wiped the smile from my face.

One of the best features of books – besides the knowledge they store and are on the brink of sharing with curious minds – is the smell and feel they have when fresh out of the factory. If every book could just be preserved in that state, schools would have found perfection. We have all warned our students about how critical it is to take care of these new books. We have given speeches about how to appropriately use and keep them (no stepping on them, throwing them, ripping pages out, using them as toys, etc.), and threatened the students with death if they mistreat their book at all. My third graders stroked their books like delicate pets and carried them like precious silver plates. A few of my eighth graders decided to name their books after I told them that they had to care for their book as if it were their own child. The excitement of new books was contagious and could be felt in every classroom.

So here’s to you Chapel of the South Fork! Thank you from the covers of our new books to the bottoms of our hearts for donating the money that bought these beloved textbooks. Your money has not gone to waste. These books will surely be used for years and impact every student that studies at our school. My prayers are with you this week. You have been an incredible blessing. 

Fine Dining

Has anyone ever posed this question to you: Do you eat to live, or live to eat? 

If not, ponder it for a moment.

Someone asked me that back in high school, and my self-conscious self worried about what the correct answer was, and then shyly answered “eat to live” because somehow that translated to being of the ‘skinny’ mindset. Nowadays I would answer the other way with all the confidence in the world.

I live to eat.

I love food. It can easily turn the worst day ever into a brilliant moment. I look forward to what is for lunch or day dream about what I can make for dinner. And I absolutely love meeting up with a friend over a meal or some drinks. Food brings people together in the happiest of ways. I don’t save my money to spend it on the newest movie, gadget, fashion trend, or toy; I prefer to save my money and treat my belly to delicious meals. It genuinely has this drastic affect on my mood. Call it an obsession, addiction, disorder…whatever you like. I call it a love for the finer (tasting) things in life. I genuinely appreciate the infinite amount of flavors out there and how they can mix harmoniously in intriguing, exotic, and mouth-watering ways. In another life I would be a 300-pound chef with my own restaurant.

Honduras is not exactly a country that I would label as the “cuisine capital of Central America” or a “food-lover’s paradise.” I have acquired some unique tastes while living here out of desperation to maintain a full stomach or simply having no other options to eat. I have started experimenting in the kitchen and actually cooking for myself in an endless pursuit for a scrumptious meal. So if anything Honduras has really encouraged my passion for food because I constantly find myself drooling over imaginary meals. I am no Emeril or Julia Child, which is a huge shame that I can’t personally satisfy my taste buds on command. Instead, I have looked forward to long weekends to travel to bigger cities in search of delicious food. I critique each potential city and give preference solely based on what kind of food or restaurants I can find there. Please don’t feel bad for me or worried that I really am developing a serious condition; just imagine beans, rice, corn tortillas, and eggs every day of your life (more than once a day) and you would start admiring food the same way.

In anticipation of a recent long weekend I found myself weighing the pros and cons of a handful of cities, and trying to decided where was the best to go. Naturally food was at the top of my life. Molly and I settled on going to the Copan Ruins for our weekend getaway. I have already been there, twice, so there really wasn’t a need for me to go back. There isn’t even a need for me to blog about the city because there is nothing new I could write about the place. However, this time I will focus on one aspect of my weekend (with a few treasures peppered in there): food.

(If you are not interested in reading about all the food that I digested in a three-day weekend, I will not judge you and I encourage you to go ahead and stop reading. However, if you do wish to read on, proceed at your own risk: you may be drooling by the end of this blog. You have been warned.)

We chose to splurge a little and stay at this beautiful bed-and-breakfast hotel. We were the only ones staying there so the staff was particularly attentive to us. (And the owner mentioned that we looked like we were “from the boondocks” when we arrived, so maybe he felt a tad bit sorry for us.) We were greeted with ice cold water and tea – ice cold! Ice is not something every kitchen in La Unión has! For breakfast they offered buttermilk pancakes or scrambled eggs with cheese and veggies tossed in. Both plates came with a fruit plate, fresh-squeezed juice, and an endless amount of coffee and homemade bread with strawberry jam. Then every night they would turn over our sheets and leave a little chocolate on our pillows. We instantly fell in love with the staff. The hotel has an in-house masseuse who boasts “the best massage you’ll ever have!” We couldn’t just trust the words of strangers… we had to find out if the rumors were true! Molly and I both scheduled full-body massages. They lived up to our expectations in every way possible. That particular evening was heavenly as she worked out all my teaching-induced kinks, and then I lounged about afterwards drinking hot tea in a soft bathrobe. The tea was just the icing on the cake. The hotel was a great place to call ‘home’ for the weekend.

I, of course, had tagged some of my favorite restaurants from previous visits to Copan. One of those places is called Via-Via. We ate there for two meals. On the first stop I ordered chicken fajitas, Via-Via style. They stuff tortillas with cheese before cooking them to make something called a ‘papusa.’ Then they topped those with fajita-style chicken strips, onions, and green peppers. And a refreshing salsa, ‘chimol,’ to drizzle on top. I also indulged in a banana-strawberry smoothie. The second meal there I got the house sandwich with roasted potatoes. I’ve discovered that a sandwich is a very ‘American’ thing to eat. I don’t care if it was stereotypical, it was delicious.

An extremely close contender for ‘best meal’ goes to a lunch at Café San Rafael. This place will forever live in my memory as the wine and cheese place of Honduras. I would live in Copan just to get a weekly wheel of cheese from this place. Molly and I both ordered milkshakes with paninis. I sipped on an oreo and coffee smoothie, and savored a bagel with brie cheese, apple slices, bacon, and strawberry jam. IT WAS AMAZING. There are not enough words in the English language to describe how happy this sandwich made me. The entire wait staff watched as we eyed our sandwiches, let out gasps of excitement, and let drool dribble down our chins – we were a spectacle. I did not care, my eyes were on the prize. That sandwich will go down in history as one of the best that I have ever eaten. I will not even attempt to duplicate it because I do not want to ruin the memory of this brie-and-bacon dream.

The title of ‘best meal’ belongs to the 5-course, authentic Mayan meal we ate at Hacienda San Lucas. This ranch is tucked into the hillside of Copan and offers breathtaking views with exquisite experiences. The price of staying at Hacienda San Lucas was out of our price range, but we did drop the Lempiras to enjoy an evening at the ranch. Molly, Rachel, Kate, and I all decided it had to be worth it. We started with a yoga session in their pavilion that overlooks the whole valley. Our instructor was very patient with our uptight teacher bodies and immature giggles over the positions. She led a very simple stretch session to calm us down and release all the built-up tension harbored in our muscles. It was the definition of peaceful being surrounded by nature in its most beautiful state and relaxing my whole body. I am considering leaving the field of teaching to become a yoga instructor.

We changed out of our yoga gear and into something a little more feminine to enjoy a romantic dinner together. We sipped on wine while watching the night crawl over the town and all the lights come to life. Then we got in our ready positions for the feast:

The first course was a salad of cantaloupe, green beans, carrots, onions, olives, nuts, and cheese drizzled with Jamaica vinaigrette. It was sweet and tangy at all once. (I did not think that I liked olives but I decided to give them another try – it is confirmed, I do not like olives, green or black. One olive was the only crumb left on any of my plates throughout the entire meal.)

The second course was a maize soup. It tasted very similar to creamed corn, but a fancier version. I do not generally like soups but I can tolerate them if they are creamy. There was no need for ‘just tolerating’ this soup, it was quite yummy!

The third course was a tamale covered in mole sauce. They cook tamales in corn husks and with chicken hidden inside. The mole sauce on top really brought a typically bland food to life.

The fourth course, and main course, was the highlight. We were served the typical sides of rice and corn tortillas, but both were accompanied with delightful foods: there was this creamy chicken concoction cooked and presented in a corn husk, carrots sautéed in orange juice, and green beans smothered in sesame seeds. I have never tasted anything like this course so I cannot compare it to anything human.

The final course was the desert. It was a type of short or pound cake dipped in a ginger liquor sauce. On the side were bites of candied papaya in the same ginger sauce and cloves. (This was probably the group’s least favorite part, but I enjoyed it and was going to successfully say that I ate every single plate placed in front of me.)

I’m not sure how authentically Mayan the meal was because it tasted far too delicious for such simple ingredients. But I will not question the validity of it because I would recommend the restaurant and eating experience to anyone visiting Copan – it was simply to die for. It certainly was a lot of food but every bite was appreciated.

Are you wiping the drool off your cheek yet? Have I successfully shared my passion for great food and converted you to a “live to eat” kind of person? If not, well then I personally feel like you are missing out on one of the greatest joys life has to offer. I hopefully have at least convinced you that if you ever do find yourself in Honduras, do not despair, there is good food to be found!

On a more serious note, please be praying for the safety and peace-of-mind for my roommates and myself. This past week we had a visitor creeping outside of our house many nights. Since my window goes out to the porch, he mainly bothered me but there were a few occasions when he woke everyone up. We had to call the police and start putting a lock on our gate. So far we’ve been able to keep him away but I sincerely hope it’s a permanent change. I did not enjoy waking up to his shadow in my window, his hand coming in through my window, and the sound of him jiggling the door handle or trying to kick the door down. I had quite a few high anxiety and sleepless nights, and the added stress is the last thing this girl needs right now! I’m now uncomfortably on-edge whenever I hear the gate open or see a shadow pass by out front. Pray that he stays away from us and ceases to bother our house. I am confident that the Lord is constantly watching over and protecting us here. 

Restoring Faith in Honduran Humanity

People can say what they want about the safety of this country (stranger danger) and how Hondurans can be unfriendly towards foreigners, and I would probably agree with you for the most part, but every once in a while there is a shining star in the crowd. I believe that no matter where you are it’s always refreshing to come across this type of person and it restores your faith in humanity – there are genuinely good people who exist that are not burdened when asked for help, in fact they readily offer assistance when a situation like ours arises, and they ask for nothing in return. They help out of the goodness of their heart.

Recently, we were traveling out of La Unión for one of our long weekends when Jake’s car got a flat tire. We hadn’t reached the safe haven of paved roads yet so Jake inquired at a house if he could pull his car into their cement lot in order to have a flat surface to change his tire on. As soon as Jake pulled in, this man named Roberto took over. He was on the ground, underneath the car before Jake could even bend over (maybe because as a Honduran he was naturally closer to the ground than Jake’s tall body) and putting the car up on jacks. There was no problem getting the flat tire off and putting on the spare, but that was the easy part. The spare was flat too. Before Jake even had time to worry about what to do next, the man was offering the spare tire from his own truck. He took one look at the tires to compare their sizes and determined that Jake’s car could definitely handle the truck’s spare.

As if Roberto was not generous enough changing the tire and giving us his spare, both without hesitation, he was not even worried about getting his tire back. We were leaving town on a Saturday and weren’t planning be back through until Monday, so Jake asked him if he was ok waiting until Monday for the tire. He responded with recommending a repair shop to stop at once we reached the city (his friend owned it) and said we could just leave the tire there – he would pick it up himself whenever he got around to it. What a guy! We were all blown away by his kindness and generosity. It was as if, in those short 30 minutes, we had become close friends and he trusted us completely. On our way back from vacationing we stopped by his house and brought his family strawberries (a rare fruit to find) as a meager thank you for everything he had done for us.

Roberto’s willingness to help and give was refreshing. He reminded me to not be so guarded with strangers. There are occasions when showing kindness to others is more important than self-preservation. It reminds me of the idea of paying it forward: if someone does something kind for you, turn it around and do something kind for three strangers you come across, and eventually everyone will be touched by kindness. I hope Roberto’s story brings a little warmth to your heart and renews your faith in humanity, just like he did for me. 

Splishin and a Splashin and a little White Raftin

The first half of the year is peppered with long weekends to help school pass by a little quicker.  It’s perfect for getting out of La Unión (when it’s easy to feel trapped here) and explore what the rest of this country has to offer. Last year we were constantly scouring the travel guide books to figure out what crazy adventure we could find for the next break. We quickly hit all the hot spots in Honduras and saw the highlights. This time around, since I’ve already done all the major touristy things, I’ve looked forward to my breaks being a little more relaxed. I have no problem re-visiting those places because now I get to look for the hidden gems in each town – which not every tourist finds at first glance.

Admittedly our first long weekend vacation choice was driven by my need for adventure. Last year for Christmas my sister and I went to the coastal town of La Ceiba and the one thing that we didn’t get to, that I had really wanted to do, was the white-water rafting. I had heard scintillating rumors that the rafting in Ceiba was not only the best rafting in Honduras (which, to be honest, was not a shock so much as hearing that Honduras even had rafting) but that the river was genuinely rough and boasted crazy rapids; so the rafting promised to be thrilling! I had to go back and eagerly recommended it to everyone for our 4-day weekend off.

My awesome persuading powers were successful and we soon were all piling into Jake’s car for our mini-vacation. Everything else that I did in La Ceiba over that weekend is meaningless next to the rafting. The hotel was nice, the food was average, the mall was cool, the grocery store was neat… but the rafting! (My whimsy for big cities has slowly diminished since living in La Unión is not this giant, mind-blowing transition this time.)

The Cangrejal River winds through a valley that splits two national forests in Honduras. You are surrounded by pure, natural beauty and many eco-lodges. Over the weekend that we were there it had rained a considerable amount so it wasn’t exactly safe or recommended for us to start rafting at the very top. When Honduras in general seems to lack concern for safety, I truly appreciate the moments when someone is looking out for us and guides us into safer situations. We drove along the river until the guides found a starting location where they felt confident enough in us as river navigators and the river itself to start the journey. Once they picked the ideal location, I knew in my heart they were spot on as soon as I saw the ‘Colorado’ license plate hanging from the gate. Perfection.

There were 6 of us girls, 2 guides, and 2 boats. Rachel (Suby-Long) and I, being the Colorado natives that we are, were the only two of us teachers who had ever been rafting before. My crew consisted of Kate and Rachel (Liscombe), and our fearless leader, Victor. We named ourselves the ‘vampire bats’ and came up with our own bat battle cries. We felt ferocious. Before embarking down the river we practiced in a little cove; we worked to synchronize our rowing forward, backward, and on opposite sides, and diving into the boat for safety. (Bragging rights: at the beginning, our guide demanded more from Kate and Rachel because the two of them rowing on one side together was not matching the strength of my lone soul rowing on the other side.) Finally Victor found his confidence in us and we were ready to begin!

We swiftly paddled from one rapid to another, always rowing out of them with grace. We were soaked from head to toe as water continually blinded us and flooded our raft with each dip into a rapid. (Earlier that day I had checked with our hotel liaison if our trip was still scheduled to go since it had been raining. She laughed at my because she misunderstood me and thought I was worried about getting wet when in reality I was trying to figure out if the water levels had risen too high, potentially making it too dangerous for us to go. Darn language barrier.) A few times I was a little worried about losing a contact from the force of the water splashing into my face! On one or two instances we had to abandon our paddling and dive into the raft to avoid all being tossed out. I am pleased to announce that my leg has a natural survival instinct programmed into it – I almost fell out but as my body was leaning dangerously closer and closer to the river, my leg reached out and wrapped itself around Kate’s leg to keep me from falling completely in. Kate’s mouth met my fist on one bouncy rapid and then met her own paddle during another, giving her a slight fat lip (but this was the only blood spilt in our boat). The other boat did not have as much luck as we did. Molly fell in during one of the first rapids; it was a little scary to watch her body being rushed towards some unfriendly rocks. And while trying to haul her back into the raft, the guide lost his stability, yelled “Oh shit!” and then tumbled in after her. Thankfully they both were fine. Through it all we were always in a fit of laughter by the end of each rapid because of how much fun it was!

We stopped for a snack break half way through the trip. They sliced up some juicy pineapple and poured refreshing iced tea for us to indulge in. The second part of the river journey was much more subdued and risk-free. It felt more like a lazy river as we just floated down it and moseyed our way to the end. (I think Molly greatly appreciate the change in pace after being tossed out earlier.) Our raft was dying for one final hoorah (maybe have someone launched into the river or play bumper boats to the death with the others) but no such craziness happened. We floated safely to our destination, but we were still all smiles from the trip. It is something that I am very glad that I went back for and would recommend any tourist to go take part in!

Pray for our safety as we have another long weekend ahead of us and will all be traveling around the country. This year is a little different in that we don’t all travel as a herd of gringos; we’ve been picking separate destinations and heading in opposite directions. Would you please pray for everyone as we travel to different cities over this weekend? Pray for smooth bus rides, easy transitions, and safety wherever we find ourselves. 

Kid Tested, Teacher Approved

Children’s Day can only accurately be defined as a day, unlike any other, to celebrate and rejoice in the lives of the Honduran children we teach. The objective is to pack in as much fun as we can into a half day of school and inject as much sugar as legally possible into their tiny little bodies. Controlled chaos is what it really is (the ‘controlled’ part may not be as obvious as the ‘chaos’ part). Would you accept that mission?

I always walk away from days like these and just collapse into a heap on the couch from exhaustion. I have this great, on-going inner debate about which is more torturous – teaching a full day with my munchkins or trying to entertain and manage them for a half day of mandated fun? The half days seem to always kick my butt a lot more than the alternative. Don’t get me wrong, I love getting to embrace my inner child and play alongside of them, but in reality the day is all about them, not about me whatsoever. I have to remember that I am the adult, I am the responsible one, and I am the one in charge so I have to act my age. (What a stupid notion!) Thankfully it is just a half day so I only have to survive until lunch when I can rejuvenate my body with a delicious meal followed by a well-deserved nap. And the real silver lining? I get to send my hyper and sugar-fueled students back home to their parents. Ha!

This year the fun of Children’s Day was not just handed to our students, they had to earn it. We still had the first two hours of classes in the morning. (If we were going to put up with that chaos to come, they would have to tolerate a little teasing of our own.) But it wasn’t long before the madness unfolded. Rachel and I decided to join forces and have a joint 3^rd/5^th grade event for our students. Our brilliant idea was to put on the Marshmallow Olympics! We would gather them all together and pass the marshmallow torch to commence the games. Then we would test their balance and speed in a marshmallow relay by balancing a marshmallow on a spoon and making them carry the spoon in their mouth while running down the court. Following that race we would require them to step up their strength and hand-eye coordination in a marshmallow toss to see who could throw the farthest while their partner caught the marshmallow in a cup. The ultimate challenge was the last one: a battle royal with marshmallow shooters. They would need to either become sharp-shooters aiming the marshmallow ammunition at the others running by and trying to nail them, or be swift while dodging through the marshmallows to get to the opposite side. (If all else failed we had planned a task for the stretchy-cheeked: the classic ‘chubby bunny.’) Our expectations were high for the Marshmallow Olympics.

Our event was not executed as perfectly as we had envisioned it. We couldn’t get the marshmallow torch lit to pass amongst the students. They outsmarted us with the relay by licking the marshmallow and sticking it the spoon so it could not fall off. We didn’t even make it to the marshmallow toss. And the marshmallow shooters all broke one by one as the balloons snapped off the cups. Thankfully we were playing with marshmallows and what child doesn’t love those sugary little puffs? Most of them quit at one point or another and just feasted on the marshmallows we had given them. (So it’s almost like we played chubby bunny!) Although you probably won’t be seeing our Marshmallow Olympics featured on ESPN or ABC News, the day was not a total loss and the kids had fun with it!

As well, the 11^th and 12^th grade students were divided up amongst the primary grades and asked to put on a few activities for each class to help with the day. I was very glad to hand over my little ones to these guys. They started by playing a game where pairs of students competed against each other to hold an orange between their foreheads while dancing to music. They looked so goofy dancing while their heads were stuck together! Then they adorned everyone’s faces with face paint. The girls looked very pretty with swirls and flowers dancing across their faces. And then boys looked ferocious with war markings splashed across theirs. With fresh paint they headed outside for silly races. My students competed in the traditional potato sack relay (except here in Honduras we use rice sacks) and the race that requires you to spin around in a million circles before stumbling back to your line. Those kids spent the majority of each race on the ground in a fit of laughter. They were just not coordinated enough to finish each race. I was laughing equally as hard on the sidelines.

The day finished with the mayor making an appearance and handing out toys to all the students, a giant conga line around the school, and candy of course. I let out a big sigh of relief when the bell finally rang for all the students to go home because all the sugar and noise left with them. I am genuinely glad to spend the day celebrating my students. I love watching them being kids and just having fun. I think it’s healthy for them run around screaming their heads off and inhaling sugar in various forms (once in awhile). I love them dearly and will always accept the opportunity to celebrate them. They are giant blessings my life and deserve a day to recognize how incredible and delightful they are.

Although Children’s Day is all about the students, I am sending up prayers for the teachers. Pressure is coming from all angles. Some are beginning to move past the honeymoon period of moving here and really feeling homesick for their families, friends, and comforts back home. Others are being tested and pushed to their limits by the students. Whatever the reason may be, we cannot afford to have anyone throw in the towel and go home. Pray that the Lord reaches their needs, whatever they may be, and gives them the strength to fight through. I feel like this is a common pray that I have here, but it is completely necessary. Our efforts are not enough for this job. We all need the Lord to guide us. I pray that he works through the students and teachers alike to ease the tension and make this job a little easier for those who are feeling weak.