Robbed

Mark had a really great time back in the States. Walking into the airport and seeing him there was awesome. It is good to have him back.

We left the airport around 7:15 and drove into San Pedro Sula. I had a part to pick up for the well drilling rig and we decided to swing into the McDonald's just before downtown SPS for a quick breakfast. It's an area of fast food restaurants and shopping plazas, all which have guards and fairly secure parking...or so I thought.

Locking the car, we left Mark's suitcase loaded with necessities from home and his back pack with his brand new computer in it as well as passport and iPod in the back seat behind heavily tinted windows. Twenty minutes later we came back out, opened the door and...everything was gone, even Barbe's camera. We were in shock for several minutes, then pissed off and then...

Apparently, according to the surveillance camera, two cars pulled in shortly after we parked and within two minutes had punched out the door lock, cleaned out the car with the exception of a bag of bananas and were gone, politely closing the door after themselves. I'm pretty sure they followed us from the airport, watching for their chance. Fortunately for us, that chance was while we were not in the car. These guys usually don't worry about killing people.

I kicked myself for not parking in front of the windows, for not setting the alarm, for not having Mark bring his backpack in with him...for being to trusting, for being to slack. Kick, kick, kick.

Can I have one of those honest moments with you again? Yeh? Thanks. You know what one of the hardest things for me was/is? Seeing my son so happy to be back, having just had a really awesome time in the States...a place where he would really rather be...and 10 minutes after getting here being robbed of literally everything he owns. Seriously, he has the clothes on his back left. I could see the tiredness from the all night flight hit him, the disappointment, the hurt, and me, still being his Daddy...I wanted to shoot someone, or at the very least break some one's nose. I planned all kinds of sting operations, ya' no, like flash cash in the airport and then sit in the back seat with a shotgun and wait for them to open the door into eternity. Shockingly unrighteous stuff for a quasi missionary.

Another missionary who has been here for a long time said this to me when I talked to him about these feelings, "Mike, Honduras can really beat your kids up." Personally, I don't think it's just Honduras. I think Kenya, or South Africa, or Brazil or...any place that's not your home can do this to you. I hate the possibility that he could be right.

So, our innocence is gone. The reality of life in Honduras has finally hit home. This kind of stuff and worse happens here a lot, not so much in Sigaut, but in the cities, and these guys are almost never caught or even pursued. But here's what I've been thinking over. There's a several ways I can go with this. I can say that the toll on us isn't worth it, the risk to my family isn't worth it and head for home. Or... I can do what I see so many others here do; get really cynical about the culture, the government and people and hide behind walls and not go anywhere or do anything, you know, let the fear control me. OR... I can learn from this, be more on my guard and realize that if we are going to live here, then this comes with the territory.

I can tell you this; I don't want to turn cynical, stop loving people, stop reaching out, stop trusting. If I allow that to happen I might just as well go home because I will be of no earthly or heavenly use here. I can't allow one or two bad guys who I never even met face to face replace in my heart and mind the thousands of kind and caring people I have met here.

If God has called us here, and everyday that goes by I am more convinced of that, then I must come to terms with the fact that things like this will happen. It's part of life here and you can only protect yourself so far, the rest is up to God. And really...that's true no matter where you live.