So...it's been a really hard week, I mean month.

Some of you may be wondering why I haven't blogged much lately. Come on, aren't we living the crazy life down here? Should be all kinds of really cool things to write about. And there are....but, here's the deal. God just won't let me write about some of them. I know, some of you guys won't understand this, especially if you're some of the people I love the most out there and who aren't sure about all this "being a Christian thing". Honestly, some of my Christian friends don't understand either. But that's the truth, God just hasn't let me write about some of the things we're doing. I promise, I will do a blog about this one day. The other reason is.....well things have been kind of rough for us and I just haven't felt like writing.

So, do you guys remember a post I did once titled Writing Naked? Well, I'm going to do that again. Every now and then, between the fluff, the news and the chit chat I do that. If you've followed my blogs long enough you already know that I can write some pretty open and honest, even controversial posts. I ask a lot of questions, make some pretty off the wall comments on some very "sacred" topics and in general, either drive would be friends away or make a complete fool of myself. And I've become okay with that. It's who I am. The really cool thing that happens though, is that the folks that "get" me or just decide to love me in spite of all my craziness....they become real friends.

I want to tell you about some real friends we have. Did I mention it's been a rough month...or two? So here's the naked truth. I love it down here. I really do. It's like I was born for this. I feel more alive here than I've ever felt before. Oh sure, there are times like when my computer breaks and I end up buying an inexpensive laptop which cost me double what it would cost in the States and when I get it home I find out it's the Spanish Language version only. That means that me, this very untechy guy, who can barely speak Spanish has to learn Windows 8 and it's OS in Spanish. Yeah, times like that suck. But for me, these times are few and far between. I love the rawness of life here, the way everything is boiled down to the basics. I love the people, I love the food, I love the freedom.

On the other hand, Barbe has really been struggling. I made sure she okayed this post before publishing so everything you read here has been approved by her. It's been hard for her. She doesn't have the same freedom I have. She has really struggled with Spanish, so as I'm happily babbling away butchering Spanish with others, she's only catching part of the conversation. Cooking is different down here. Shopping is different. LIFE IS DIFFERENT. She watches me and knows that I'm happy and she feels even worse because she isn't. And she really can't even say why, because although life is different here, in many ways it's the same. To make things worse, she's going through menopause. Did I mention that for her it's been a rough three months?

Here's something I have noticed as I talk with missionaries here, well the open and honest ones at least. (Oh, and by the way...we still don't know what to call ourselves.) Most of them are in the same boat. One or the other, or both, really struggle with being here, but don't feel like they can admit it. Almost all of them miss home, desperately. As one man told me, he has seen very few missionaries stay for more than 5 years. Those that do are usually just a little bit "different." I probably fit into that category.

Here's something I haven't told you about. In March we started a home fellowship group on Wednesday nights. We get together with just a few people. We share a meal, we share our week, we share our troubles, we share something from the Bible, we sing and we pray for each other. I mean we really pray. We allow each other to be open and honest, to share the good, the bad and the ugly. We have become like family. For me, Wednesday night has become the highpoint of my week.

Our usual group consist of our family, the Wells, Trey and Yuly. This past Wednesday we had some new folks. David was there. He's a pastor of a small church on the wrong side of the tracks in Sacramento, here on sabbatical for a few weeks. A new family we met last week, Arthur and Shelley and their two teenagers, who just moved here from Texas were there. I already love these guys. They're real people. They'll be the first to tell you...they're in culture shock.That's what our group looked like last Wednesday.

I know this post is running long and you're probably thinking, "Hey Mike, get to the point" or "where are the pictures". Sorry, just words on a page today. Feelings I'm trying to express. And I want to apologize because I'm going to go "Christianese" on you for a minute, something I try to avoid doing in this blog.

Let me set the stage for what happened next. Cory and Kirsten just got back from an awesome trip to Trujillo. They are sure that this is where God is going to move them after language school is over. They are rested, encouraged, excited...brimming over with good news. And we're all excited with them. Trey doesn't say much, but I think he's missing Laura. That's his girlfriend, excuse me...fiancée. She came to visit for a month, and while she was here they got engaged. Very romantic. She went back home last week...bummer. We all miss her too. David is on sabbatical and headed back to his family the next day. He's cool and I have had an awesome time getting to know him. Arthur and Shelley and the kids are fitting right in with us, but they're struggling and they're honest about it. Barbe and I...did I mention it's been rough these past few weeks? I can tell you this, if there's any crap in your life, it will float to the top when you step out and do something like what we're doing. Ask anybody who has done it or is doing it. If they tell you any different their either a saint or a liar. I guarantee it.

So we get to our prayer time, my favorite part of the night...(well, I really love mealtime too,) and honestly, I don't feel like praying. I'm tired, my shoulders are so hunched up from stress I feel like Quasimodo and I feel like a hypocrite besides. But, if there's one thing I've learned, I'm not praying in my name, I'm praying in Jesus' name. There's a huge difference in that. Okay sorry, Christenese again, but as we began to pray, the power of God was in that room. All of a sudden in the middle of this beautiful time, my struggling wife who I love dearly, says something really, really angry directed towards me. AWKWARD. I feel my shoulders hunch even higher, if that were possible. My first thought is...."aw oh, this isn't going to be pretty". My second thought is, "what are the new folks gonna' think".

The room goes quiet. A very, very pregnant pause follows and then everyone starts talking. The men are busy trying to "fix" things, the ladies are telling the men to "back off" and you know what? I find myself beginning to relax. We're family, as ugly as that is sometimes, and that's the bottom line. Of course my wife felt terrible later on and was very embarrassed, but the oppression we had felt for the past several weeks was broken. Things are not suddenly perfect, Barbe is still struggling, I'm still trying to fix things instead of just listening, after all I'm a guy and apparently based on popular opinion this is not what women actually want us guys to do. Also, apparently we never learn this either, again based on the popular opinion of everyone in the room.

Some of you may be wondering why in the world I'd share this publicly. Ha, I wonder too, but I promised you, and more importantly I promised myself, that I would be honest in this story of our move to Honduras. Real life is not a glowing report filled with good news for the folks back home. (Sometimes I feel like I'm the myth buster, well there's another one busted. If all you ever read is glowing good news, you're not getting the whole story.) So there it is, and really, isn't that life? Right in the middle of a beautiful moment the baby cries or someone farts. You move to Honduras expecting certain things and BAM, you're hit with problems you never saw coming. That's life and as my father always warned us kids, life isn't fair. And that's the naked truth.

If the Church has failed in one area, it is that we no longer see ourselves as "family". Sometimes I am horrified by our lack of concern for each other. We should not be "every man for himself" or be in competition with each other. We need to stop pretending that we have it all together when our lives are falling apart. As the rest of our home fellowship group reads this, I want you to know how much your love and support has meant to Barbe and myself. And to Arthur and Shelly, if we didn't freak you out to much, I hope you'll be with us next Wednesday. We're like family, crazy, loud, sometimes obnoxious and miserable, but we need you. We need each other. That's what family is for.

A Trip to Yoro with Don Ramon

Don Ramon, Mark Wolfe and David Lindner

Meet Don Ramon. He is a breed of sheep who has hair instead of wool. For several years he has been "The Man" here at SEBCAH's sheep project. (Don, the o is a long o, is used in Latin America as a sign of respect) He has been "The Man" here so long in fact, that Roger thought it would be best to send him to Yoro to trade places with Don Jorge.

Don Jorge

 So, long story short, I needed to go to Yoro to see a couple of guys who want 3 wells drilled. One of the men has a dairy farm where he also keeps some sheep. Roger thought it would be a good idea to combine the 8 hour round trip  to look at wells with sheep trading. So he very politely asked me if I would mind if we brought along Don Ramon. He assured me that sheep urine does not smell and that he would build a wooden cage with a floor to hold, and contain, both Don Ramon and his urine. I agreed, with some reservation. Well, for various reasons the containment cage did not get built. Nevertheless, at 6 pm on a Friday morning Roger, Mark, David and I found ourselves out in the early morning fog trying to corner and rope Don Ramon and get him into the van. An hour later (he was very elusive) we had him in the back, nicely surrounded by a beautiful, wire cage which would have been perfect if it had had a floor. We did however, have the foresight to lay down a blue plastic tarp and cover it with sawdust. As we left Siguat, Don Ramon immediately began to paw at the tarp...which he did for the next four hours in spite of our constant shush, shush, shushing. He was even able to paw while bracing himself in the sharp corners and over the potholes, which the road to Yoro has in abundance.

 

Eventually we did make it to Yoro, released an elated Don Ramon who probably was thinking this was his last ride, loaded Don Jorge into the van and walked up to the proposed well site. Shortly afterwards, here came Don Jorge, headed back to his girls. As it was very hot out, I had left the back doors open and he had managed to push the entire cage out the back of the van and escape. I will only say this, Don Jorge can run like the wind. We finally cornered him again with the help of the farm hands. Truth be told, they did most of the running. Did I mention it was very hot? 

 

The dairy farm was very clean and well run. Below are pictures of two of the farm tractors.

A pair of oxen waiting for the cart to be loaded with manure.



A horse, hitched to a cart who stood patiently the entire time we were there.

Before leaving Yoro we stopped for lunch. While there, I saw this sign and had to take a photo for my brother and his wife. I was surprised to find that they are in the transportation business here as well as in the States.

On the way home, we had our first flat tire since we left Maine. We changed it at the side of the road as the sun set and trucks, motorcycles, tuk-tuks and cars rushed by.

 

Yeh, I know...you're wondering where are all the rushing traffic is. Well, you'll just have to trust me...there was!

 

Oh, and one other thing. You remember how I mentioned all the pawing going on back there on the tarp? Well, apparently the tarp lost to Don Ramon's hooves. Roger, if you're reading this, you know I love you like a brother, but I have to disagree with you. Sheep pee stinks! And I'm reminded of it -strongly- every time I open the door after leaving the van closed up in the sweltering heat. Next time, let's put the floor on the cage.

 

 



The Flip Side to Illegal Immigration

For the millions of men who come into the USA each year illegally, their effort is no joking matter. It is a dangerous journey filled with many hardships and uncertainties which include the risk of capture, detainment and even loss of life.


The argument and debate over illegal immigration in the US has raged on for several decades now. As an American, I have always looked at the pros and cons of the debate from the position of a resident and a tax payer. I'll be the first to admit...the issue is very complicated and often has no clear cut answer. Especially when we place illegal immigration in the light of history; and that only a few hundred years ago.  We too came to a land already inhabited by people who were not all that anxious to receive us. We came for the same reasons most illegals come today; the hope of a better future, for jobs and for freedom. I can't really fault them for that.

Until now, I have never looked at the flip side of illegal immigration. I have never thought to ask the question whether or not illegal immigration is good or bad, beneficial or harmful to the countries these men are leaving. As I have had opportunity to see first hand the issue from this side of the border, I have observed some critical facts.

Several weeks ago I had opportunity to speak with the town manager of Intibucá. I asked him if the youth of the town had jobs or if they were leaving for other places. I was thinking of the larger cities like San Pedro Sula or Tegucigalpa. He on the other hand, gave me a strange look and began to laugh. "Yes" he said, "They are leaving...they are going to your country." I too began to laugh and we had one of those shared moments of humor, but as I left the office I realized that this was a very sad thing for Honduras. Honduras and other Central American countries are losing their youth. Not only are they losing their youth, but they are losing the movers and the shakers. They are losing the young men who have the intestinal fortitude to make the trip. The ones who have the courage, the daring and the vision to risk all in hopes of a better life. Honduras is losing it's future.

These same men often leave behind young wives and young children. Many do not see them again for several years...or ever. I have worked with many men in the US for whom this is the case. Without a doubt, these men are sending home much needed money which goes into the economy here, but here are some of the sad facts I have witnessed first hand which this exodus has brought to the society here. I am well aware that no one single event can be blamed for the problems that exist here in Honduras, but I know that this issue plays a huge part in these problems.

• Homes without a father present. Many of the young people here are growing up without a father in the house and it is a proven fact that society suffers when this happens.
• Many of these men end up with two families. One in HN and one in the States.
• A lack of available men of marriageable age. There are more women here than men. That vacuum is often filled by the men who are here having a wife and several girlfriends or even two families, with the same result...homes without a father present.
• Teenage alcoholism and truancy is often the case in homes that are receiving income from the States. I recently visited a small mountain village. A group of young men were pointed out to me with the observation that most of them were budding alcoholics. None of them were even even making the effort to find a job. The reason given was that each home had someone in the States sending money back each month. There was no reason to work and every reason to drink.
• Gangs are a huge problem here. Studies show that many boys join gangs as a substitute for the lack of a solid family structure. Poverty too plays into this.
• As I mentioned previously, Honduras is losing their entrepreneurs and motivated work force.

So what is the answer. Although America is often viewed here as the land flowing with milk and honey, I personally don't think that the majority of those who leave illegally for the States really want to go just to be going. If the men here had decent jobs that would provide sustainable incomes for their families, it is my opinion that most men would stay. After all, this is their home, their families, their country.

We are doing our part, small is it may be, to help bring jobs to Honduras through micro lending. Others are working to bring factories and increase exports. As investors begin to recognize the potential that Honduras and other Latin American countries have in the global market, it is my hope that this trend towards economic stability will continue. In doing so, many of the problems that plague both America and Central America because of illegal immigration will begin to be solved automatically.

As a believer in Jesus Christ, I see the Church reaching out with much needed spiritual help and encouragement in Honduras. I also see the Church reaching out with physical helps like providing for medical needs, food, education and shelter. These too are good and needed. But, I also want to encourage the Church to reach out and provide jobs. As we work to bring wholeness to Honduras, let us not fail to see that the need to provide for one's family is an obligation and a God given desire inherent in every man. As we work towards bringing wholeness and dignity to those in need, providing jobs should be a huge part of that effort and one that will have a global impact now and for future generations.

The Body on the Livingroom Floor

Several weeks ago we went to a retreat in Valle de Angeles. While we were gone, we asked our friend Trey Russell to stay at our house and take care of Tiger. As you can see from the following two pictures, both Trey and Tiger are pretty cool guys and bear a striking resemblance to each other. They got along well and enjoyed their weekend together. There was one thing, however, that we had failed to tell Trey. We had left a body lying on our livingroom floor!

Trey

Tiger

 

What Trey did not know, is that in our hurry to leave, we had left a body lying on the livingroom floor. Below, is a photo of what he saw when he opened the door to our house later that afternoon.

 

 

The Body on the livingroom floor.

 

Now, as I mentioned earlier, Trey is a pretty cool guy and when I called him later on just to "see" how things were going, I knew it might be a bit difficult to get out of him his true reaction when he first saw the "body". So our conversation went kind of like this.

(me) "Hey, Trey. How's it going?" (Trey) Good, good. Tiger's doing great." (me) " I'm glad to hear that. You get connected to the internet okay?" (Trey) Yeh man, no problems." (me, phishing) "Every thing else cool?" (Trey, pause) "Yeh, why?" (me) "Just checking. Nothing unusual happening?" (Trey, finally giving in) ".....chuckle.....I've gottta' say, when I walked in the door I did a double take and went right back out the door. I was pretty sure there was a guy, either drunk or dead, lying there, so I came back in real slow like, reached over and....flipped the blanket off. I did not expect to find what I found"

So what did Trey find under the blanket?

 

 

 

Two "racimos de bananos", about 100 lbs.

What Trey found were two "racimos" or clusters of bananas weighing about 50 lbs each. We had been given, as a gift, the night before these bananas with instructions to hang them up and cover them with a large sack so they would ripen. Well, the next morning they were still in the van and because we were in a hurry to get going I told Ben and Thomas to just bring them in and lay them on the floor. I grabbed a blanket to cover them with until we got home and I could hang them properly. Stepping back, we realized that they now looked remarkably like someone lying there covered in a blanket. Someone, Corey I think, had the brilliant idea of putting a hat on the stem that was sticking out from under the blanket and the practical joke was born.

 

We have been incredibly blessed with gifts of fruit lately.  As those bananas ripened we ate and ate, gave and gave and even put some in the freezer in an attempt to make "choco bananos". This past week, my friend Savino who lives in Choluteca and brings two truckloads of canteloupe a week, straight from the fields there to sell here in Siguat, has given me an armful of delicious, sweet melons everyday. Sindy has given us tree ripened mangos from Comayagua. Let me tell you, there is nothing quite like the taste of the fruit here in Central America. sun ripened on the vine!

 

I'm thankful for the generousity of our friends here. Special thanks to Trey for being a good sport and allowing us a good laugh at his expenes. (Without getting even!)