I've been processing my Honduras trip for about a week now, and I still feel like I'm still only covering the basics. I've also been debating when I want to blog, because, like I said, I feel I've only scratched at the surface. But I'm feeling the urge to blog (since my photo blog has taken DAYS, and now I must start all over, because I'm ever so forgetful, and forgot to add my logo. To every single photo.) and I feel like I have enough to say to inform you of the trip, and how it went.
I decided I wanted to blog...and then couldn't figure out what to write about. Each and every day's schedule? The movements in my heart? If so, which one? Maybe about the scenery? Maybe about how my heart experienced SUCH a change?
And going through all these things-I noticed a common theme. Myself.
Yes, it seems this blog is about me, my life, my words, my heart. But in reality, this trip was about finding out how to not be selfish. To stop being greedy, to love what I have, and to love others. To give up myself for His glory.
So I'm going to forget myself for a bit, and write about the people I met, the lives I entered into, the family I created, the hearts I saw broken.
It was such an adventure.
I met so many people in Mision Caribe, and involved with Mision Caribe. Each and every heart was open to us. Hugs and kisses were frequent. Stops to genuinely ask how we are were continuous. And although many of them were as fluent in English as I am in Spanish (which...if you know me...is fairly horrid), they always said good morning, and tried to find ways to ask us about our day, and our lives.
One man that really stuck out to me was Anival. He reminded me of a Honduran, Jesus-loving, mellow, Spanish-speaking version of my Uncle Kevin. He had a true attachment to Skylar that I don't think any of us understand. (I'm sure it was the kid's blue eyes, blonde hair, friendly and outgoing personality, and his love to just make people grin.) Every time they said good-bye, Sky would say "Hasta Lavista!" And Anival would pop his head around the corner and say, "baby!" He gave him many hugs. His protection for our entire group was beautiful. He was always watching out for all of us.
When we went house-calling in different towns and villages, many people invited us into their home. And when they didn't have enough chairs to sit on, they would offer us their beds. They'd listen intently, making eye contact, even though the words they were hearing were coming from a translator.
Each person down there that we made contact with was friendly, hospitable, and sincere. Even the ones who didn't know Christ!
My goal for you (and myself) is to be like them.
Shouldn't we, as Christians, be more like them?
Often times, I find myself shutting my eyes to opportunity. I complain because I don't want to do something. I complain because people are just annoying, and I'd rather talk than listen to their pitiful stories. I start to form sentences in my head before they have finished talking, so that what I say is "impressive".
I don't even act like the Honduran people with my closest friends. It has been a common thing for me to begin thinking of myself before anyone else. It's selfish.
The first night we were in Honduras, we went to a nursing home. All of us were tired, but since this was something new and exciting, we mustered up our best attitudes and went down there pleasantly to feed some elderly people.
Before we left, one woman said, "Thank you for remembering us."
This hit home.
This hit close.
I, as a Christian, should remember the forgotten. We all should. God calls us to remember the forgotten.
It is not my job to continually look to myself and ask, "What can I do?" "I want this person to do this, so that I will feel better." "I want this..." "I want that..."
I am nothing. I have FAR more than I need.
I should not begin every sentence with I.
Yes, I need to check my heart frequently. Check my motives, and my intentions.
But above all else, I should be looking out for other people. I am called to look out for other people. Love the unloved. Forgive the unforgiven. Remember the forgotten.
Not because I need to, but because I should want to.
Because my example is Christ. And although I can never live up to that, I would like to do the best I can to do as He has instructed.
Remember the forgotten.
A sentence that was continually in the forefront of my mind.
A challenge, I would say. To go and spread the word of Christ.
He has not forgotten anyone. He loves every person, every heart.
But times in this world-people feel lost, and feel forgotten.
I feel called to show them that Christ remembers them. And not only that-He knows the intricate places of their hearts, their minds, and their souls.
He knows the number of hairs on their head! He molded them in their Mother's womb!
God remembers.
No one is truly forgotten.
