Rancho el Paraíso

“God is like the light: we don't see light; we see all that it touches.” Donald Miller

Last week my mom and I had the incredible opportunity to travel to a little village called Las Flores (the Flowers) in the Agalta Valley of Honduras with First Presbyterian Church of Athens. Strangely enough, I have never been on a week-long mission trip before, and, honestly, I didn't really have any expectations. I didn't know anything about Honduras; all I knew was that it was part of Latin America, and I was all too eager to get back there. 

And it didn't disappoint. 

We stayed at a beautiful ranch called "Rancho el Paraíso" (Paradise Ranch), and it is truly aptly named (as you can see above). We woke up on the Ranch by 5 or 5:30 every day (which wasn't too hard, since the sun came up at about 4:30 anyway), and, after a breakfast of eggs, beans, sausage, and pancakes, we went straight to Las Flores, a 30 to 40-minute drive. At the village, we spent the first half of the day building latrines for various families, which involved mixing and hauling concrete and cement blocks, as well as laying concrete in small rooms and porches in houses around the village (and, man, it was HOT out there). 

 

Then, during the second half of the day, it was time for the kiddos! Talk about overwhelming. We sang songs, played games, read stories, made crafts, gave them toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, etc., and had lessons on hygiene. The children, as you can imagine, were absolutely precious, and it was such a special gift to spend time with them.  

What a beautiful experience it was! It was so wonderful to spend time in Latin America, to remember why I fell in love with Central America and its people, and to become re-motivated for my mission to Costa Rica. Yet, during our time with in that beautiful valley, I started to think about how interesting it was that in preparation for these short mission trips, like the one we took to Honduras, we Americans always try to think “big.” We want to bring a “big” presence, make a “big” difference, finish a “big” job. But, being in Honduras, I didn’t feel “big.” If anything, as with all my other mission experiences, I felt incredibly small. But isn’t that really how it’s supposed to feel? Doesn’t traveling to new places, meeting people who are so utterly different from ourselves, hearing languages that we don’t fully understand, being in a culture in which we are complete outsiders, doesn’t that really show us how small we are? Doesn’t it remind us how little we know and understand about the world? How small the bubbles are that we create for ourselves? Doesn't that reinforce how much we need to trust in the knowledge that's so much bigger than us?

 

Both before and during our trip to Honduras, I kept asking the Lord over and over again to show me Himself, to reveal Himself to me in a new, fresh way, to recapture my heart. I've been struggling with Him for so long, to believe that He's there and that He cares. Please show me You're there.

So I waited. I looked. I tried to feel. But I didn't see anything. I didn't feel anything new. I didn't see any signs or hear any songs or sermons that overhwelmed my heart or moved my spirit. Maybe He just wasn't there. Or maybe He didn't care.

It took me to the end of the trip to realize that He was showing Himself to me, but it wasn't through my striving to see Him; He didn't use my journal-writing (or lack there-of) or even His own Word to speak to my heart. He didn’t whisper in my ear an astounding Truth that I’d never heard of before, or send an unmistakable sign of His existence through a parting sea or a burning bush. I didn’t hear a booming voice or feel an overwhelming presence of His love. I had no visions, no supernatural dreams, no prophesies. 

But what I saw was much more intimate. He showed me His heart for His people, His utter refusal to abandon us, to leave us where we are. He doesn’t sit in the clouds and objectively observe our lives; He enters into them. He stood barefoot with the shoeless village children, singing “Chu-chu-ua” while standing in a muddy puddle of sewage. He was in the center of a latrine hole, mixing concrete and shoveling mud. He walked with us around the farm, watching a new calf being born and playing futbol with the Honduran teens. He was preparing meals with the kitchen ladies, hugging filthy children and kissing their lice-bitten heads. He was on the airplane traveling home with us, while at the same time remaining in the village. He does not abandon. He is not just a God of our American lives, He is so much more, so much bigger. His heart covers us all, lives with us all. We don’t have to wait for Him to reveal Himself; He’s already given us His heart, and His heart is everywhere. He will not leave us where we are, He will constantly challenge us and force us to grow and change and love and hurt and feel the whole spectrum of emotions and experiences in this world. Before these types of trips, we always think, “well, we need to go and bring Jesus to these people.” But Jesus is already there; our "mission trips" then are really just opportunities for us to go see Him. 

On another note, please join me in praying for this sweet couple from Matagulpa, Nicaragua who are starting Young Life ("Vida Joven") in San Esteban, Honduras. They just moved there a month ago and are starting from scratch--so please support them with your love and prayers as they begin to meet kids and try to become a part of the community!

Also, please continue to pray for my fundraising endeavors! My goal is to leave for Costa Rica by September 15, and I'm roughly 45% funded, which means I have a LOT of work to do! Thank you for all of the love and support you've given so far!

Explica el nombre: "Rancho el Paraiso." #nofiltersunrise #blog

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first of may. is there enough good?

"When we lay the soil of our hard lives open to the rain of grace and let joy penetrate our cracked and dry places, let joy soak into our broken skin and deep crevices, life grows.."  One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp

Williams Farm, Athens GA.

Happy May to all! I'm sure you've probably heard the old adage "April showers bring May flowers," right? Well, this morning I'm here to give you a new one: "April showers bring...42% funding!" Don't worry, it will catch on eventually. But in all seriousness, I just want to give a HUGE thank you for your prayers, support, and love in this fundraising process. I know that I say that a lot, but I am sincerely humbled by all of the generosity that has surrounded me, and I feel blessed beyond belief. I'm almost to the halfway mark! It's becoming more and more real with each and every donation, and I'm incredibly excited.

Of course, along with the month of May inevitably comes glimpses of springtime: green trees, budding flowers, and, naturally, the 90 degree Georgia heat when it's not even technically summer yet. It's always been my favorite time of the year: the world seems more hopeful as the sun shines with renewed force and new life is resurrected all around us. But, this year, even as this new life blooms, I find myself haunted by one constant, nagging question: is there enough good? I continue to see Merideth's face everywhere I look: her warm smile, her freckles, her dark, sparkling eyes. How can life grow and thrive when she is gone? How can life be good and joyful in the midst of such loss and pain? 

And these thoughts inevitably force me to wonder...is it? Is it good? Is it worth it? Is there enough good in this life to overcome the evil, to overcome the pain, to make living worthwhile? 
  
I must admit that in my darkest moments, my moments of missing my sister so badly that I lose my breath, that my chest compresses and my body hurts all over, my mind tells me no. No, it's not worth it. No, there's too much evil. Too much suffering. Too much pain. It's not worth the hurt that love inevitably brings.

But the funny thing about questions is, once you muster the courage it takes to ask them, instead of ignoring or hiding behind them, you start seeing answers in places you never thought you would. Lying on my back in the middle of my driveway one night, gazing up at the clear dark sky, searching the stars through my tears, I dug the question out of the core of my heart and allowed it to leave my lips in one exhaustive breath. Oh God, is there enough good? 

And right when the question left my soul, once I aired it out and lifted it up to the Lord, I immediately began searching, searching for the good. Unintentionally at first--I'd absentmindedly stop and notice the blooming trees, the laughter of a friend--and then with purposeful vigor. I began to intentionally seek grace...and the more I sought it, the more grace I found. The more I saw. The more I see. Everywhere: Long walks with my mom, a steaming cup of earl grey, the smell of a new baby, hikes through the woods with my dogs, fresh flowers, green grass...how could I keep up with them all? So, inspired by the beautifully deep wisdom of a dear friend in Nicaragua, I started a list. A list of gifts, of beauty, of moments of joy, of glimpses of grace. In her book One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp tells us that "downcast eyes cannot see the God who walks beside us." But I don't want my eyes to be downcast. I don't want to miss the God walking beside me, to miss the beauty of this life. 

In all honesty, I don't have an answer to my question yet. I don't know for certain that there's enough good in this world to combat the deep hole of darkness in my heart that my sister left in her wake. But I do know that there is good. I know that there is a thing called grace. And it does surround us. It's there, always there, just waiting to be noticed.


{A small sample of my recent glimpses of grace:}

1. Sharing a meal with sweet friends.
2. Lying in bed with a good book.
3. Iced-cold coca cola.
4. Getting caught in the summer rain.
5. Collages of pictures of all the people that I love so dearly.
6. Watching friends get married.
7. Rainbow sunsets.
8. Tattoos: depictions of what it is to live and love in this world, a testament to where we've been and who we are right now.
9. Family dinners.
10. Disney world with my Dad (and hearing him scream his head off on the roller coasters).
11. Long, hard laughter.
12. Popsicles in the summer heat.
13. Trying new teas and tasting new beers.
14. Smell of honeysuckle. 
15. Walking barefoot.
16. Gardening with my mom.
17. Seeing new vegetables grow on the farm. 
18. Tacos and cheesedip.
19. The generosity of friends, family, and strangers, as they support my adventure to Costa Rica.
20. Good music that speaks to my heart.
21. Farmers markets on Saturdays.
22. Learning that my relationship with Jesus doesn't depend on what I do or don't do. It is finished.

I could go on and on. 

So yes, there is good in this life. There is beauty and love that overcomes evil, that crosses all borders, that crashes down upon us and seeps into our veins. And as that grace sinks into our hearts, something beautiful starts to bloom there. Joy.

All my love to you all.