Hondurans are rich. Rich in the very things that matter most.
In a conversation with a friend here, he and I reminisced about this place that we now call home, about the Honduran way of life, how good things are, how life here is addicting, doing life here is so good. Our conversation led me to reflect and share about the change occurring in my own heart….
While sitting in church Sunday evening in a hot and humid, one room church filled with wooden benches, packed with hundreds of people, I watched as woman, held her baby on her right arm, held a hymnal in her left, she had a dish towel draped around her neck to wipe the sweat from her head. dressed in her very best, this woman was strong, and proud, and sang at the tops of her lungs… giving praise and thanksgiving,
I wanted to tap her on the shoulder and ask, “How could you be grateful for this? For the poverty in which you are born? How could you still give thanks when you know that their is not much to offer for your children? How could you say “God you are good” when your children grow up watching their own friends and family killed outside your front door? How is it you say “God you are the great protector ” when you live in one of the most dangerous countries in the world? How do you raise your hands praising God for the rain that floods your town, for the water that may or may not be on today? How could you say “Hosanna in the Highest” when you watch as your kids are left to play in trash and run barefoot till their feet bleed because you cannot afford new shoes? How do you call him father when he has abandoned you, left you in hardship?”
In those moments as these questions flooded my head… sitting back in my seat, my heart became heavy. It is not them that I should feel sorry for, nor is it this woman who is without much. For I am the fool. She is rich in all things that matter. She is rich in things that last. Rich in the truth, that God has not and never will abandon them. He never has. These people have obtained something I do not have. They have found that true life, is found in his promises that he has and will never forsake us. My moment of feeling sorry for this woman, faded quickly… I find joy and thanksgiving in material things, in success, in my accomplishments. I praise God for his goodness when MY plans work out as I had foreseen.
All of these things that I seek treasure in will soon fade.
Hondurans are rich in things that matter most. They find joy in the details, celebrating and praising the very one who loves them no matter what.
I am grateful to be humbled… more aware of how selfish I am, and how far I have to go to find the truest form of joy in this life.
Feeling ever more grateful to live in a place that is far more rich with things that matter than I could ever be.
**** Loving this song. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rbbtmmUw490