Our frozen, thrilled-to-be-back-at-the-lake faces |
My current life state is this: broke, without any definitive plans, and wading through culture shock limbo. I applied to graduate programs but won’t hear replies until spring. Consequentially then, I haven’t the slightest idea where I will be living this year or even where I will be working until I move for graduate school. And of course I have no money, and by that I mean that I experienced the peculiar, shattering sensation of watching my savings account dip into those meager double-digit numbers. Then there is the culture shock of trying to slip back into fast-paced, often materialistic, and career-intensive American lifestyle while holding onto a whole separate world of lessons in faith and life from Honduras. It will be painful to say goodbye.
Just a casual, saturday morning walk to the children's center... see why it could be difficult to leave here? :) |
"Hannah, aquí viven todos los cocodrilos." Here is another photo, for no particular reason other than that I love this guy and his stories. |
I spilled my woes about my plans for 2017 to my friend Anna. “This is the first time that I’ve peaked through the little window on the door to the next chapter of my life to see absolutely nothing: no plans and no sure answers.” I was (am?) anxious. In answer to this, Anna just shrugged her shoulders and grinned, “Yeah, but how exciting is that?! How many other people do you know who have that sort of unfilled time, just a blank slate and so many opportunities ahead of you.” She’s right (she always is). After living in Honduras, I am broke and struggling with my life plans, but ironically this is evidence of how privileged I am. Daring to spend last year becoming willingly broke implies that I am not worried about how I will survive this next year. In fact, there are so many opportunities available to me that I have the luxury of not knowing exactly which life course I will be following this next year. These difficult decisions and all the uncertainty they bring really just leave room for creativity and growth; they are collateral blessings. God promises grace to those who serve him, and he tells us not to worry about petty physical things. He gives us the freedom to find the collateral blessings even in our more difficult times, like this experience getting ready to move away from Honduras.
... winding down to a wispy end. |
As with the tingly sensation of feeling my skin numbed in the cold at the beach, I want to feel all of this experience of transition, even if it includes a twinge of pain. It is worth it because it reminds me that this past year has been hard work, that it has been a beautiful difficult experience, and that I want to live every moment of it, even this part where my whole life in Honduras winds down to a wispy end. And really, I have no right whatsoever to complain about any discomfort I feel throughout the transition to my next life chapter. I chose to move to Honduras. So I am happily penniless because I chose to serve here. Now, I choose to move back to the states; then I will choose to hopefully find a job and then to move again and start graduate school. What a luxury! So many choices… all representing unparalleled privilege and opportunity.
It is not like that here in Honduras. Not your personal potential but rather where you are born determines your future more often than not. There are not many choices available to be made, and opportunity is an elusive notion. When Hondurans do uncover the rare gem of opportunity, they often have to sacrifice everything when they make the choice to capitalize on it.
A friend of mine and her husband have been spending an astounding portion of their income to send their son to the area bilingual school. This year though, they can’t make ends meet even though both of them work. There just isn’t enough work available here. So her husband left to work in another town in order to offer their son a good education. He makes a visit home only every three months. “It’s worth it though,” he said, “because this education is the best inheritance we could ever give our son.” The husband of another friend left to find work in the US because he couldn’t find a way to provide for his family. We all have differing opinions on the hot topic of illegal immigration, but living here it is impossible not to at least empathize with the desperation that drives people to cross deserts and borders in search of relief. This friend herself has wanted to find a job for years now so that she can give her son a better future. “Do it!” I told her, “Just move to the city and look for work there.” She is frightened though: the perils of city life, including gang oppression and violence, have dissuaded her from making the move. There are yet others here, like the local pastor who lives one town over, who aren’t sure they will be able to afford to buy tomorrows tortilla flour. The deep worry lines on his weathered face crease when he tells me how hunger can cause even the strongest man’s faith to be shaken a bit.
As for me though, I can slide peacefully under the covers in bed tonight without the slightest worry of whether or not there will be food available for breakfast in the morning. I don’t have money, but I have options. There are always jobs available to me. Food? Check. Income? Check. Family together? Check. Guaranteed medical care even if I can’t pay immediately? Check. Abundance of opportunities within reach with which to alter the trajectory of my life? Check. In Honduras there isn’t always food, jobs are scarce, families are often separated, and in many places if you can’t pay for medical treatment then you won’t be treated, at least not effectively.
All that to say that even under a bulky load of financial pressure, I am so blessed; I am endlessly privileged. I can only admire the Hondurans for their resilience and perseverance, and wish that I could offer them every opportunity in the world. I am not in a position to offer support or relief to many people, but I can offer opportunities for a better future to a handful of them, a few little people and their families. We all can.
On that note, I’ve decided to come back to Honduras for an extra month. So here I am! Originally I had planned to move back to the United States at the end of 2016. However, the work has progressed better than I ever expected, and I am involved in several more projects than I had planned. God has created so many opportunities for change in surprising ways (stories for another blog post!). So I am back to Honduras for about one more month to finish the work I started. I am asking you for some extra support to purchase my return ticket to Michigan ($300), to pay for a month of rent ($200), and to purchase some food and some supplies ($200) for finishing several projects (details below, #3!). If you wish to support my last month of work, just write “final projects” in the memo on checks or at my GoFundMe page . Now, let’s take a quick cruise through my to-do list so you can see what I will be doing this month. Hold on tightJ
Feeding therapy at the independent eating station, as I like to call it. |
Yes, I quite literally screwed and strapped their bowls in place. Try and throw that, Cindy! |
- My first priority is researching, developing and teaching a series of trainings to the Honduran staff and some individuals in the community about various disabilities, how to care for children with these disabilities, and basic therapeutic principles and activities that they can utilize.
- I hope to continue feeding therapies, speech therapies and other occupational therapies with children at the children’s center and with individuals in a few families in the community.
- I am in the process of finishing several projects to develop therapeutic devices, such as the independent eating station I have been using to teach two children with cerebral palsy to eat independently and the schedule boards for kids with ASD. I am also working on making weighted vests for three of the children with gross motor and sensory integration issues. Truth be told, I didn’t sew the vests myself. I just hopped on my motorcycle and buzzed the material and the plans over to Lilian, a miracle-working seamstress who works from a tiny dark room two towns away. She made beautiful, weighted compression vests at 100 lemps ($5) a piece. They cost around $70 in the US! The last and more costly project is building a suspended gait training system for a 3-year-old girl with a congenital heart defect and other complications. She has hypotonic muscles, but is smart and wants to learn to walk. I estimate it will cost around $50 in materials to get her up and moving.
My homemade, weighted compression vests - Thanks, Lilian!
- The library setup is in progress! I brought two suitcases of beautiful new books with me from the US, thanks to some of your special donations! The tire chairs were wildly popular with the kids. All that is left to do is categorize the books, cover them so they last longer in this humidity, and buy a rug to finish our cozy reading corner.
- A brilliant 3-year-old with downs syndrome is itching to communicate, so I will be making some personalized PECS cards for him. Pray that I’ll have enough time to teach the family how to use them with him before I leave!
- I would like to do an evaluation of a young woman who recently suffered a stroke that paralyzed the right side of her body and teach her family members how to do basic therapies to help her recuperate.
- I need to write up final reports and prescribe basic treatments of the children with special needs at the children’s center.
And one more pic from the kids' reading corner,
because I can't help myself.
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*Phew! Let’s see if I can get it all done, with your support J Thank you for your prayers and donations! I am soaking up every last minute of sunshine, waves, baleadas and every moment with the people here that I love. I dread leaving them. But don’t get me wrong; I’m ecstatic to see you all as well. See you in a few weeks, Michigan! Honduras sends you her love.
Fairy, mi Loca - one of my friends who I will miss so much |