Mission Trip - Day Three

My brain is so overwhelmed right now and the steroids I’m taking are only making matters worse. Just picture the equivalent of rush hour traffic going on inside your cranium and that’s my mental state. Time to put on the hazard lights, my friends.

There was a humorous moment in the day, however. In an effort to provide some comfort and humor, one of my coworkers smiled and said, “even God took seven days for creation.”

Day three

Let the real work begin…

The beginning

For the first real work day I was scheduled to work with the best crew chief ever, my dad. We arrived in San Francisco around 9am and went to the job sites. The house we were building was made of concrete blocks and consisted of 2 bedrooms, a bathroom and a living room. It would eventually house the Rodriguez family. We worked from 9:00-12:00 then took a break for PB&J at the soup kitchen. At 1:00 we headed back to the jobsite for 3 more hours of work. By the end of day one, our crew had laid 4 courses of block which would not have been possible except that we had lots of great helpers. This is the day I met my buddy Maria. From this day forward, she would wait for me every morning and see me off every afternoon. If there wasn’t a trowel in my hand then it was Maria’s hand. (Sidenote: It turns out Maria wasn’t really named Maria. Her real name is Demetria, or so we think.)

It’s also the day that would trump my bloody leg of beef sighting. Shortly after lunch a herd of pigs came down the hill. By the end of the afternoon, one of these piggies would squeal his last squeal. After some wrangling, this (not so) little piggy was taken behind a gate and killed. It was a much longer process that I would deem necessary; apparently they let the pigs bleed out. We all assumed what was going on but it wasn’t until one of the workers gestured a throat slitting that we knew for sure. Shortly after the squealing stopped, Mr. Piggy was on top of bench (where a child was napping earlier) getting his skin boiled off. Anyone for bacon?

By the end of this day I was desperately in need of a shower. Maria thought so too as she kept trying to brush the mezcla (cement) off my clothing. After the 45 minute ride home, I had one of the most wonderful, most needed showers of my life. 

End of day. Trowel in one hand, Maria in the other.

The story continues...

So I checked back into reality today. Got to the office around 7:30 am and after a download with the boss man I spent more than hour just sorting through my emails (junk, not junk, action items, non-action items.) There’s a to-do list somewhere in there. I guess I’ll get to that on Tuesday. I also reactivated my phone today. My phone was stolen in Honduras the night before we left. It’s amazing how dependent we are on those things. At 8:00 pm I set a kitchen timer for 9 hours and 30 minutes. It would serve as my alarm clock. (thank goodness it worked)

It was funny to hear from my coworkers that I looked refreshed but I think that is just exactly how I feel (felt). It reminded me of a song that I’ve had stuck in my head over the past few days.

Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place

I can feel His mighty power and His grace

I can hear the brush of angel’s wings

I see glory on each face

Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place

But as I think about the presence I’ve felt over the past week, I’m also reminded of the importance of another type of presence.

Taken from the pages of my “40 Days to Personal Revolution” book by Baron Baptiste:

Someone once asked the Buddha, “Are you a god?”

“No,” He replied.

“Are you a saint?”

“No.”

“Then what are you?” they asked.

“Awake.”

My hope for each of you is to be awakened in your own life. To be present in everything you do and to feel the presence of your god.

Day two

By far the shittiest day of the trip….

We convened on the porch for devotion at 7:30, followed by breakfast of beans, plantains, eggs, pancakes and chorizo. This would be the only day we slept in the entire trip. After breakfast we traveled to San Francisco to visit the people we would be serving. We were greeted by singing, praise, dancing and marimba playing. Afterwards we walked to the Alpha Y Omega church and soup kitchen which would serve as home base for the week ahead. We split into groups to deliver bags of food to the local families. On one of our visits, I witnessed as a family asked God into their hearts for the first time. We prayed for their health. We prayed for new opportunities. We prayed that they would always feel the presence of God’s love.

As we were waiting for the bus to pick us back up, a shitty thing happened. A bird dropped a load of crap right onto my head. They say it is good luck to be crapped on by a bird.  At the end of the trip, when no one was injured and only a few had experienced the revenge of Montezuma, I feel it was a just sacrifice.

After the 45 minute bus ride to Los Glorias, we had lunch then helped the medical team sort pills. I was able to squeeze in some hammock time but had to ignore the very loud marimba playing taking place 30 feet away.

The evening activities were quite amusing. We headed back to San Francisco to watch a 2 hour movie on Jesus. It was in Spanish and did not have subtitles, (at least I knew the storyline.) We arrived back home around 9:30 and it was straight to bed. From now on, devotion started at 6:30. If you didn’t get there before 6:15, you’d have to wait until breakfast for coffee.

And one to grow on...continued

The return

Heading to a house dedication

I  just got back from a walk with Maddox. It was our usual route but this time there was nothing usual about it. As I started down the first street I immediately felt emotional. The difference of walking on a clean paved sidewalk and not trudging down uneven paths littered with glass, trash and animal feces. I was wearing my flip flops. Half the kids we saw the past week didn’t even have those. A block down the road I passed by the elementary school, a school where every kid has the same opportunity to learn. In San Francisco I met kids that didn’t go to school because they didn’t have shoes or couldn’t afford uniforms. My little buddy Maria said her family couldn’t afford the bread and sugar and other things the school demanded.

I found myself crying.

As I continued my walk, my mind searched for answers. Should I feel guilty, angry, depressed? On the fence posts on either side of a driveway I saw two clusters of dried corn, a typical decoration for Thanksgiving. There was my answer. Give thanks. 

........................

It’s not a sprint. It’s not a marathon. It’s a mission, a mission that soon takes the form of a passion. It’s something that once it strikes, it never leaves you. At least I don’t expect it to anytime soon.

I came into the trip tired, stressed and overwhelmed by everything going on in my life. We are now down 2 staff members at work on an already small team. My dog had exploratory surgery 4 days before departure. And the vaccinations and malaria medication have caused some serious gastro distress. I was mentally, physically and emotionally drained.

Playing doctor

It took one visit to the village of San Francisco to put everything into perspective, well maybe two. But quickly the world, the “craziness”, that I feel surrounded by sometimes melted away. A hacky sack, a piece of candy, a soccer ball, a band-aid, a cup of cold, clean water, a smile. There are such small things, insignificant to most of us, which bring a world of joy to these children.

Day one

It started with a late night and an early morning. On the short flight to Atlanta the only thing on my mind was putting my arms around my parent’s necks. It had been a tough week and I needed their comfort. Even more so, I was about to travel thousands of miles away to a developing country and I was excited to join them on the journey.

Upon my arrival in Atlanta, I learned that the flight from Mississippi was delayed, really delayed. My much anticipated hug session with my parents would not go as I anticipated. I had firm instructions and they were, “do NOT get on that plane.” The gate attendants told me to get on the plane.  I was told they were holding the plane but I still waited until the last second possible to board. Finally the 29 other missionaries in their light blue shirts boarded the plane. I finally got my hugs.

Now I’m writing these entries post trip. I took a few notes each day to jog my memory, schedules, stories, moods, etc….I could just paint the rosy parts but what’s the fun in that.

Day one was the longest damn day of my life. It was very comforting to hear from Mom that the sentiment was shared. We arrive in Honduras around 11:30 am. It took some time to get luggage and go through customs. All bags and all passengers arrived safely. The rain started about the time the mission team boarded the bus, a school bus (no air conditioner). I am now in the land of no toilet tissue in the toilet and constant hand sanitizer.

Daddy and I at a dedication

About an hour later we arrived at Power Chicken, the lunch spot of choice for the past few years. I’m not really sure what I ate but I also didn’t care. I was tired, hot and in need of a shower. But then we were off to the market for an hour. While wandering through the aisles of crap I will never need, I stumbled upon what must have been a butcher’s station. There’s nothing quite like seeing a bloody leg of meat in a hot, sweaty market post lunch. (spoiler alert: I will recant this statement in a few days, more than once.) The hour at the market finally ends. At 5:30 we arrive at Los Glorias, after a two hour bus ride up into the mountains. Now one would expect the first day to be really low key. Perhaps some downtime to unpack and lie in the hammock, have a nap??? We had an about an hour so I did just that. Following that hour we headed to dinner followed by a devotional and foot washing ceremony.

By the 8:00 devotion time, I was fit to be tied. Bad me didn’t participate in the actual washing (I wasn’t the only one). I felt a pang of guilt which bubbled into anger. I wasn’t sure that I was ready for a binge fest of Jesus.

At the time, I was still focused on what I was going to be giving to these people. It hadn’t sunk in that I too would be on the receiving end of things.

Shortest post ever!

It's been one heck of a week. With 9 hours of sleep under my belt and more caffeine in my blood than a Seattle Starbucks, I finally feel human again. Tonight I will attempt to pack. And NEWS FLASH! While in Honduras I am restricted to wearing shorts that cover my knees and tops that cover my shoulders. That means no tank tops. And I have a tank top obsession. Luckily I've found refuge in some fabulous $8 v necks from Target.

So I'm leaving 2 1/2 days and I haven't packed a single thing..

Why is that?

Well my precious dog, Maddox, ate a corn cob sometime in the past week and had to have it surgically removed yesterday. Yes.....corn cob, rectum (actually intestines) but you get the joke. It's been a long 4 days. 

On top of that, I am also helping to coordinate a 4-day event for prospective companies and consultants coming to town next week.

But in the midst of all this chaos, there is much to be thankful for....

Thanks to Cleveland Park Animal Hospital for taking such great care of my boy!

Thanks to everyone for your kind words and prayers for Maddox and I over the past few days.

Thanks to the good Doc that talked me off the ledge a few weekends ago and  then went on to research the best malaria options for me. I promise to be a good roommate next week.

A bigger thanks to my parents just for being who they are. They opted for me to receive the good (expensive) malaria pills so that I won't be experiencing major gastrointestinal distress for the next six weeks.They are always there for me, even if it's 4am and I'm crying because Maddox is throwing up again.

And an even bigger thanks to my Aunt SuSu. She has volunteered to drive to Greenville and spend the week with Maddox. Aunt Pitty, as I often call her, is a great caretaker and a dog lover (among many other things) so I couldn't ask for a better nurse for the "Mad" man.

And to my coworkers, who have been so supportive and caring. They didn't even make fun of me (at least to my face) for being in the office yesterday with no make up, dirty hair and reeking of dog vomit. It's great to work for a team like ours! (We're hiring, by the way)


Job Posting: http://www.upstatescalliance.com/pages/index/about/job_openings/
 
And please, please, please follow the instructions.

#31 Continued

The 10 day countdown to Honduras is about to begin. (GULP!)

Thus far my preparations for the trip - vaccines and malaria prevention- have been about as fun as getting teeth pulled, going to the gynecologist and having poison ivy all at once...Basically, it's been miserable.


If the warning label says "might cause mild stomach upset", then you can bet this chick's digestive system is going to be more than mildly upset. I guess it's all in preparation for the possibility of Montezuma's Revenge. (I'm charming, I know).  Since we're on the subject of toilet talk, I learned an interesting fact while talking with my mother yesterday. The septic systems in Honduras are not equipped to handle toilet paper. So yes, it means all used toilet paper must go in a trash can. I'm sorry (to my mother and any person this disgusts) but diarrhea and trashcans of used toilet paper just do not go well together.

Do I sound like a prima donna? If so, I'm sorry.

Amidst all my stressing, I keep coming back to one central point. No matter what my digestive system goes through over the next few weeks, at some point whether it be through high levels of steroids, antibiotics and/or other drugs, I will return to normal physically. (gosh, I hope this is true) In an emotional and spiritual sense, I hope to never be the same. As I sit here in my well-lit and air-conditioned office, I can't even begin to imagine what it's like to live like the people we're going there to serve.

So I guess there's no better time than now to ask this...If you're into praying (or even if you're not), I ask that you begin praying for the St. Matthew's Mission Team as we travel to/from Honduras and as we work to bring a better life to the families there.

A house in one of the villages

Until next time.

# 31 And One to Grow On

It hasn’t even been 2 months since my last adventure and I’m already having withdrawals. And I don’t think I’m the only one. Several of you have encouraged me to start a new list. And that’s not happening, at least not now. Thirty is looking to be a career focused year, one that I hope will pay off in the long run.

But hold back those tears, my friends….As promised, there is at least one more adventure on the horizon. 

I am now 3 weeks away from my 31^st adventure, a mission trip to Honduras. Over the past two weeks, I’ve received my work schedule, plane tickets and malaria pills. This past Friday I went to the clinic for my vaccinations. Holy freakin’ smoke! Here it is Saturday around noon and I am still in a tremendous amount of pain.

Mom and Ruthie doing construction. This will be me very soon!

Work Schedule:

Monday:

My father, mother and I will be starting the construction of a home for a Honduran family. Over the week’s time, the mission team will build 3 homes that will house 3 families of 5.

Tuesday – Thursday:

I will be on a team conducting bible school for the village children in the mornings and sewing and crafts with the village women in the afternoons.

Friday:

Mom and I will meet back up with dad to finish construction on the home we started on Monday. Then in the afternoon, the entire mission team will meet up for the dedication ceremonies.

I’ll be posting more as time draws near. 

I actually wrote this post last Saturday. I am now only 2 weeks from departure and starting malaria meds today. 

#30: One Hell of a Ride

It’s complete. My quest to complete 30 new things in 12 months is over. I personally feel I deserve a medal, trophy or perhaps just a certificate of completion. If not for the 30 accomplishments then certainly for my newly acquired skill of bull riding. Ladies and gentlemen, I may have just found my next calling in life.

Or perhaps not…

Last Friday night I set out for my last adventure with two very brave cowgirls. To the Blind Horse we went! Being from the great state of Mississippi I should have felt more prepared for this experience. Unfortunately (actually very fortunately), I’ve always had the pleasure of living in very nice towns  and have typically hung out with people that have at least most of their teeth and that do not classify rebel flags, tight jeans and big hats as their Sunday best. 

So the city mice made their way into the country bar (complete with all the stuffed animals you’ll ever need to see and I’m not talking teddy bears here) and quickly found ourselves near the bull pin. Fearless Kim struck up a conversation with Cecil the Bull Operator to secure me a free ride and some riding tips. Bless Cecil’s heart. He was a very nice man but quite the close talker which led to the exceptionally awkward moment of a piece of his dip hitting my face in mid conversation. 

Well after finishing my glass of liquid courage, I was ready to take on Horny the Mechanical Bull. Oh yeah, that’s his official name. 

Now there is video of the bull riding somewhere hidden away on Kim’s camera. While I’m not opposed to posting it, I do want to temper everyone’s expectations on the front end. The good Father above blessed me with incredibly long, lanky arms and no real sense of rhythm so anyone expecting some sexy bull riding set to 70’s porn music is going to be highly disappointed. I think the most you’ll get out of the video, if it surfaces, is a really good laugh. 

So that’s the end, but not really. While I have no intentions of completing 31 new things before my next birthday, I do plan to write about some other adventures along the way. As some may know, in September I will head to Honduras with my parents and members of St. Matthew’s UMC in Madison, Mississippi. Many of you have asked what my toughest adventure was and I think I’ve found that answer. I look forward to sharing more of that adventure as the time comes.

Until then, or until I stumble into something else mischievous, I want to thank you for allowing me to share my journey to thirty.

Jennifer

Here's the video. It's way more embarrassing than I thought it would be.