Final Thoughts on Honduras

This blank page is staring at me, taunting me, challenging me to find words to describe the last nine months in Honduras. Where can I start? Lessons learned? Favorite memories? Things I’ve done? Regrets? The names of family and friends that I now have in Honduras? Family and friends that I may never see again. This plane continues at a steady and unforgiving pace, leaving no time to reminisce or let go.  I can still see the shore of Honduras behind me, the clouds, our favorite Honduran clouds, scattered above. Both are fading quickly. I can only hope that it’s not a preview of what will happen to my memories.

            I don’t want to let go. Three weeks ago, I was more than ready. I was frustrated and tired from work and the effort that at times felt so wasted. I was ready to meet mom in the airport and feel her ever supportive arms around me. I was ready to say goodbye to a pending relationship that wasn’t going anywhere and getting more complicated by the day. But now I find myself feeling this experience slip away like sand through my fingers, leaving a dull feeling of emptiness. The friendships that I made have increased in value over the last few weeks. Saying goodbye has made me realize what I will miss. There is something about travelling to tropical Roatan and sharing a house, beautiful beaches, warm sun, and snorkel gear that binds you together, or maybe it has nothing to do with the experience and everything to do with the investment of time. My gratitude for the families that have gone out of their way to make us feel like part of their family, feeding us and welcoming us into their home, is inexpressible. Their hospitality and free love will never cease to warm my heart. I hope that I will never forget the effect it had on me and that I will do the same for others in the future.

The last three days have been filled with doing nothing but saying goodbye. During our last visit to the orphanage, as I wrapped one child after another in a hug, I realized with a sinking feeling how quickly each precious moment was passing and I was thankful that in that particular, precious, passing, moment, I was with my kids.

The kids in La Finca have had a big part helping me find purpose here in Honduras. We have spent many hours playing Uno, improving my Spanish, and chatting about who knows what. Sometimes their hugs and smiles were freely given, other times they were hard earned, and a few times, replaced by glares or rude indifference. Their defense mechanisms are strong with barriers that are hard to break down, but with good reason. Strangers come and go, offering love and gifts for the time they are there, but then, like me, they leave, leaving the kids trying to fill their need for love, supervision, and guidance on their own. It’s hard not to wonder if the time invested and the relationships built will actually do more harm then good because of the way they have to end.

One girl, Jennifer, was particularly special to me. We had a connection. She sought me out and we became friends. But as time went on, I realized that other kids were jealous to know that every time I came, I came to see her and as I tried to spread my time more evenly among the kids, Jennifer and her friends would rudely tell me that I never spent time with them anymore. It was an exhausting circle of a game, and at time’s I told them so, offending them even more. I can only pray that my time and love invested in those kids will be remembered and remind them of a God that, unlike me, will never leave them and will always understand.

I pray the same for Sandra from the orphanage in Santa Barbara. Its hard to believe how strong of a connection can be built in just a few days. I hope I can somehow stay in contact with her. She is so precious! So daring, so loving, so smiling and hugging; wanting to be thrown across the water over and over again, despite having to gasp for breath and thrash in the water as if she were drowning. I will never forget how she pushed her way onto my lap and in the end asked me over and over for “un recuerdo”! I feel like she fought for my heart and definitely won! Her humble desire to give me something to remember her by – the childrens paper games and a half used Christmas heart tin candle.  I hope she knows that she will never be forgotten!

            Jehovanni also gave me purpose while I was there. With his stark need, contrasted almost unnaturally by his friendly personality and inspiring attitude, he quickly became my favorite patient as well as a genuine friend. Watching his wounds heal as a result of my feeble efforts felt like seeing a miracle unfold before my eyes, slowly but surely.  Pastor Castillo, and a few others expressed that they were impressed with my dedication to help Jehovanni, but I never felt very impressive. Finding Jehovanni was like finally finding the reason why I came to Honduras, how could I not do it? Jehovanni was always a team effort. As people heard about him, they wanted to help. His gratefulness made him enjoyable to help. I already miss his text messages full of bible verses, random jokes and cheesy quotes, that came as a result of lots of time in his bed and his passion for making people smile.

            Learning Spanish is a different kind of relationship that will be missed. I spent the majority of time in Honduras learning Spanish. I miss needing to concentrate in order to understand and having to think ahead about things to say. I miss the challenge that it provided, an endless supply of mental stimulation. It has barely been a month or two that I have even felt proficient in the language and I already have to leave. It felt so good to see the hours of studying pay off as I became more comfortable with conversing. I will never forget the built up frustrations and feelings of utter ignorance that the first few months of trying to speak and understand brought. I am so thankful those days are over and I am so excited to be able to use this new skill in providing better care to Spanish-speaking patients in the future.

This plane keeps moving, its unforgiving pace hasn’t changed. As with life, there is no turning back and there is no slowing down. Saying goodbye to the relationships in Honduras means saying hello to friendships and family in the United States. Once again, I am reminded that this world, full of hectic lives, sickness, injustice, and goodbyes is not our home.  I can already sense my memories fading, but there are some that will last. In a little while, the wheels of the plane will touch ground and I will be hit full force by the life I used to know, hectic and busy and full, full of relationships that ten months ago, I put on hold for Honduras. This is the life I love and at times this is the life I hate, but whatever I am feeling, this is my life. And I will choose to greet each new phase with open arms and an open heart embracing those around me and ready to be filled yet again.