The Final Steps

Greetings from the Miami airport!

So hey! It’s Hannah and I have a joke for ya’all! A grasshopper walks into a bar and the bartender laughs and says, “Hey! We have a drink named after you!” Then the grasshopper goes, “Huh? You have a drink named Steve?” Hehehehehe! Well, if you have not already noticed, the team and I have resorted to mild humor in the attempt to stay awake while we wait for our delayed connecting flight from Miami to O’Hare. Actually though, this delay comes as a blessing because it gives me the perfect opportunity to regale you with stories of the amazing experience God placed before us this last week and a half.  Since you have already heard many stories about AFE and the dump, I will keep this section short. I was part of the team two years ago that was given the chance to visit the dump and AFE. The differences between then and now are astounding!  In 2010, my teammates and I witnessed people in poverty and suffering without the presence of any hope or love or happiness. Personally, I could not see Christ anywhere in that dump.  It was depressing and it made me feel like God did not really care about these people.  This year though, my experience was completely different! As my team visited the dump and we had more time to spend in the trash dump communities, I could see the thing that was desperately lacking two years ago! I could see HOPE! The people were happy; they were smiling and greeting us with open arms just like an old friend would. The thing that amazed me the most though, was the idea of being blessed that they continued to talk about. They constantly thanked God for every small detail of their lives. This really got to me because it me made think about how spoiled I am and how little I thank God. I tend to only appreciate the bigger things in life, and I omit the things that I know will always be there such as food and shelter. As the week went on, I continued to learn from these Hondurans about relationships and about blessings. Although I knew God was working there in that place, there were many other hard questions that we had, many of which we discussed during debrief. And this is the story that I actually sat down to tell. Before I continue though, I would like to give you a fun fact about my team members. If you do not want to hear this small fact of fun, than you may skip ahead a couple of sentences. While my team waits to board the plane, a couple of them decide to have a bit of fun going back and forth on the moving walkways.  They are leap frogging, and dancing, and being dinosaurs and moving in slow motion. It is great fun to watch, and also extremely entertaining! J Anyways! Back to Honduras! So, debrief starts with one God thing after another. First of all, my team and I were supposed to be traveling to Siguatepeque & debrief near San Pedro Sula in one 15-person van and two 5-person cars including all of our luggage and the 4 Hondurans that were traveling with us. At the last minute, Luis found us a bus driver who had the weekend off and who had to pick up a team in San Pedro on Sunday after we left! The bus was amazing! It had air conditioning and fairly comfortable seats – which is pretty rare in Honduras. We reached our destination late that night, and we were amazed at what we saw. It was a beautiful beach house 100 yards away from the ocean! There was a pool with seats and fountains and colored lights! The best part of it was our hostess, Cecia. She was an extreme sweetheart and had a large heart for Christ and for the people working as His hands and feet in Honduras. She had cooked us an amazing homemade meal of chicken and rice and veggies, all sprinkled with tons of love! Since we knew we would be comfortable, we could now set our hearts and our minds on Jesus and start to prepare ourselves for the trip back home. Throughout Friday night and Saturday, my team and I held devotions together, shared God stories, sang praise songs, and just loved on one another. This trip is going to be a difficult one for is to put into words for you because of everything we have witnessed. I do not think that we will ever have answers for some of our questions, at least not on this earth, but I do know that God is using this experience to further His kingdom! My team and I thank you greatly for all of your love, support, and prayers! We cannot wait to see you in just a couple of hours and to be able to share how God moved in our lives with you all! Love you lots! Hasta la vista amigos!

That's Paul's Logistics!

(The following lyrics are sung to the tune of "That's Amore," and were sung on many occasions over the trip. Verses were added as time passed, and contributors included most members of the team.)

When Paul stands on the bus
And he's got news for us
That's logistics

When he's holding the bar
Then we know we'll go far
That's logistics

When he puts on his hat
He knows just where we're at
That's logistics

When you see his big grin
Then the fun will begin
That's logistics

If you've just got to eat
Then with Paul you should meet
That's logistics

When you've just gone to bed
Still his words fill your head
That's logistics

When the time's winding down
And Paul Staats is around
That's logistics

When you hear half a joke
That's 'cause Paul almost choked
That's logistics

As we get on the plane
And Paul's keeping us sane
That's logistics

And we're now almost there
Thank you Paul for your care
That's logistics!

Coconut Hope

I have always had an indescribable allure towards coconuts. Something about their prickly hairs and spunky mannerism is rather endearing. Needless to say, upon our arrival to our debrief location of Omoa, a coastal city frighteningly close to Guatemala, I was overwhelmed by the presence of entire coconut colonies.

Despite the fact that sleep deprivation has developed into a commonality amongst our team members, many of us chose to wake up in the wee hours of the morning to gaze romantically at the sunrise, and my personal favorite activity: lounge within the tropical glory of coconuts. As I meandered along the beach (looking very macho if I must say so myself) I came across a bewildered coconut. Yes, a bewildered coconut. It was helplessly flailing about near the shore, caught between the push and pull of the wave movements. This spectacle was difficult to process as I wondered whether or not to rescue the poor little dude. A foamy wave's push followed by a countered force from shore, left the coconut endlessly stranded in the same location. Believe me, I wanted to erupt in a battle cry, dive in, save it, nurse it back to health, and potentially apply for adoption, but I was too afraid of what strange jellyfish might be lurking about so instead, Taylor and I narrated it's thoughts and added the occasional sound effect, only to proceed onward.

But what can we learn from this bewildered coconut? Initially, one would presume absolutely nothing. However, apart from the fact that humans do not grow on trees nor do they possess shaggy spherical qualities, we have a lot in common with this coconut. Throughout our team's interactions with the AFE ministry this week, many have found ourselves caught in uncertainty, struggling to understand the coexistence of a world of hope and a world of hopelessness. We have found ourselves caught between powerful forces of our broken world. The garbage dump in which AFE families earn their livelihood has provided me with a clear understanding of hopelessness. It is a place where joy thrives only amongst the flies and vultures that feed on the desperate. It is a place where dignity is lost within the piles of human waste and disease. And yet, it is a place where God is working. Everything about AFE is full of hope. The teachers, the workers, the students, and the families, have all been empowered through God's work in the ministry. Trying to comprehend how such hope and hopelessness can both shape us profoundly has placed us between two waves, much like the coconut. Unable to find stability nor satisfying conclusions, my thoughts have lost confidence, and I have found myself feeling more and more hopeless. We are lucky that we are not coconuts, because instead of having to settle in this inability to understand our world, our hope is beyond that of the coconut's. The coconut is probably still where it was when I saw it last, bewildered, vulnerable, and alone. Fortunately, we are not reliant upon on myself to save us from this, because I did nothing to help the coconut. But God is more than willing to erupt in a battle cry, dive in, save us, nurse us back to health, apply for adoption, AND take all of our anxieties and guilt away. We can rest in Him. This is hope. The only hope that can make right what we have made wrong.

This is what much of the team has been struggling with, and perhaps this bewildered coconut can make it easier to understand. As we are thrown back into the rhythmic process of our lives in Madison, my only desire is that we don't allow our uncertainty to define us. Rather, I pray we all can find ways to rest in the hope that God has provided to us, to the kids of AFE, and ultimately to the world.

-JM

Building a Home, Not a House

Greetings blog readers, family and friends! Taylor & Lief here. It’s Friday, and we are en route to Sigua and then the coast for debrief! Writing on a laptop on twisting, descending Honduran mountain roads isn’t easy, so bear with us.

Sam did a wonderful job recapping our past few days, so we'll concentrate just on Thursday, our last day in Tegucigalpa, and an extremely significant one. We woke up Thursday morning at 6 am, ate breakfastat 6:30, and were on the road to the barrio of Buen Samaritano before 7:30. At the work site, we started on the massive piles of dirt in front of the house that we had built, while others started the finishing touches on the house, building the doors and windows. The dirt crews started an assembly line to get rid of all the larger rocks in front of the house, and then switched to filling 5 gallon buckets with dirt/rock and passing them down the line. It was strenuous work, to say the least, but I (Taylor) think that everyone was driven by the knowledge that this was our last day and a desire to have everything ready for the family that was going to live in this house. Because of this, from the beginning of the day, our team was so united & joyful, many singing songs & laughing throughout the morning. We even had a number of kids from the neighborhood (those not attending AFE or other schools) join us in the work.

We headed back to AFE for lunch and a presentation from the students at AFE who gave handwritten letters, sang songs, prayed for us, and, as Sam mentioned, more than filled our daily quota of hugs. I can think of few better ways to energize someone than to have over 100 students sing and pray for them. The highlights included: the preschool class presenting cards for our entire team and a card from Joan (Yo-ahn), the two year old boy who, along with his mother and younger brother, will be moving into the home we're building. Also, HS students had personal messages of thanksgiving and prayer for us. Finally, after each team member had a chance to pray over groups of 4-5 students each, we gathered in a circle surrounded by the entire AFE students & staff as one fifth grade girl prayed for our entire team (she prayed a few words, everyone repeated them, then it was translated for us). So cool to see their response & example to us!

After many emotional and heartfelt goodbyes to little ones, teens, and adults at AFE, we returned to the worksite reinvigorated to finish our work on the house. We had been planning on having the dedication ceremony at 3:00 pm, which turned into more like 4:30, as the mother who would be moving into this house was still putting in a full day’s work at the trash dump. I (Lief) remember sitting outside the back door of the home as Olan was finishing up sweeping inside. All I could think of was that the finished structure in front of me was presently "just an empty house."

When Guillermina arrived with her son Joan, there was an immediate sense that something special was happening. Guillermina Escobar Carranza is 21 years old, and has two sons, Joan, age 2, and Jonathan, age 1. Guillermina has been working in the trash dump for around two years, averaging approximately $15 a week, the exact cost of the rent she needed to pay to live in a cardboard & tin shack one fifth the size of the house we had built. Jessie had actually seen her at the trash dump when we visited on Saturday, and was struck by the change that she saw in her at the dedication. At the start of the dedication, Guillermina seemed nervous, almost afraid. It quickly became apparent that she was not afraid; she was overwhelmed, as were we all. As she began to share her testimony, she began to weep, and she was not alone in that. She shared how thankful she was for a place to call home, and how now "nobody will throw her out on the streets like they used to." She continued in tears and holding her son tightly... "thank you so much for doing this for us." I (Lief) later recalled how little we actually had "done" in the grand scheme of things. Apart from rounding up some support from a very generous group of people and setting aside some time in our summer, we didn't do much but show up - God, however, IS clearly doing a great work in and through many people to impact many lives and individual stories (just like Guillermina, Joan, & Jonathan's).

6 or 7 team members were invited to speak blessings over her and her house, and we presented her with a Bible that had been signed by every member of the team.The entire team then laid hands on her, and we prayed over her and her family together. After each and every one of us gave her a hug, we stepped outside to allow her some time alone with her family & a chance for us to hear the testimony of Antonio, one of the men who had worked with us.

Something amazing happened in the time between the time when we walked out of the house and the end of Antonio’s testimony. The "empty house" that we had built out of wood, concrete and tin was not just a structure - it was a home.. a second chance, a sign of hope, and an indelible memory. As Charles said after our visit to the dump: this is not the end. After hearing the entire team respond last night, it was clear that we all had a similar experience: we SAW & experienced that hope in a real way this week. We saw hope in the midst of hopelessness, we saw grace in the midst of injustice, and experienced a glimpse of the restoration work our great God is doing in the lives and hearts of His children all over the world- we experienced a glimpse of heaven in the midst of a very broken world.

We have been called to continue Christ’s kingdom work wherever we are, and I (Taylor) know I speak for the rest of the team that we all hope to be called to Honduras again. LuisVega, one of our Honduran hosts (whom we endearingly refer to as El Jefe) likes to joke that Sam left a piece of her heart in Honduras and that he is hiding it so that she has to come back. This place has taken hold of all of our hearts, and I don’t think we want it to let go.

(More) Selected photos from the team photographer