What you've all been waiting for: the Post.

If there's one thing that peeves me more than my pretend pet peeve (which over the months has become an extremely real pet peeve thanks to my dearest friend, Holly), it's when a blogger goes and does something exciting, promises to write about it, and never does. They begin they're posts with an "I'm so sorry it's been so long, but I've just been super busy". And though I do extend grace, there's also another thing that annoys me: when I'm the one that has to start the post by saying: "I'm so sorry it's been so long, but I've been super busy." Sometimes though, that's the only explanation...because most of the time, it's very true.

I have written multiple posts in my head, trying to find a way to tell you, my dear readers, about the trip that I had to Honduras. But they're usually "written" while trying to fall asleep and when I awake in the morning, of course I've completely forgotten how they started or simply cannot find the time to write one. And when I do sit down and try to force something onto the screen, nothing comes.

It's true. I've been extremely busy. So much so, that I tend to be forgetful quite often. But it's hard to remember little things like rescheduling your coaching call, and the name of a friend's husband when you've got textbooks screaming for your attention and names like Ivan the Great, Justinian the Great, Constantine the Great, and Gregory the Great popping out of your head until you begin to address each of your friends as Marvella the Great and Gretchen the Great. (No I do not have friends named Marvella or Gretchen, but if you happen to have either of those names, please contact me because I would love to have a friend named Marvella or Gretchen....and if you happen to have a name that ends with "the Great", I'd watch out because I'll likely start drawing a timeline of your life and memorizing specific details just in case they show up on my Western Civilization 1 test).

So indeed, I've been rather busy. And I don't see it really slowing down anytime soon so instead of pushing it off any further, I've pushed the textbooks about 5 inches away and have made an extreme mental and physical effort to not draw anymore timelines.

Yesterday was quite a big day for me. I had a mission presentation at church (picture this: me, on stage, with a mic, staring straight at the back of the auditorium, my voice shaking and, being particularly chilly, my whole body shaking as well while I give a presentation that, according to other people, really conveyed my heart for the project). Hehe. THAT went well. Actually, it really did go well, and I'm so thankful to God for the words that He gave to me to speak...though it will probably be a while until I want to watch the video that my father recorded while I talked.
After that I relaxed in my chair and realized, yay, I have a recital after church!!!

*Insert half-hearted laughter*

Moving on, the cello recital actually went very well, and by God's grace, I made it through, more or less gracefully.

Finally able to relax after the recital, I jumped into the car then came home where we had some great friends, Chip and Colleen and Eric and Maria over for Sunday afternoon dinner. I spent a lot of time talking about my mission trip though which means I did not relax, because if there's one thing I get excited about, it's missions.

This has been a rather long introduction, but I suppose that's what happens when you try to avoid the actual topic that you signed in to write about: my marvelously, amazing trip to Honduras.

The plane ride was fantastic. I really liked it. Like, I liked it a lot. And landing in Honduras.....I'm pretty sure I smiled as big as those mountains they have over there. Those mountains. 




Needless to say, I fell in love with those mountains. In reality, I rode 2 hours up those mountains on a curvy-wurvy road with bumps that are called pot-holes down there and craters over here in America.

Grouplings (I know that's not a word...let me use it though, okay?) of children would squeal while we rode pass and waved to them out the window. They knew. They knew what we were there for. To them, we were hope. Not that they really needed it...they have more joy than I've ever seen before. And by the end of the trip, they were the ones that gave me hope.

Standing with her arms wide open, Amelia calls to us on the front porch of the orphanage, "You're home!" Embracing each of us and kissing us on the cheek, she says it again and again, "You are home, you are home!" So much so that it wasn't long until I really began to believe it.

And as I walked onto the tiled floor and found my way up the first flight of tile stairs and into the pink and tile room that I would stay in for the week...yeah, I felt like I was home. But that wasn't it. On top of the roof I stood near the edge with the other three girls, Amber, Madi, and my "twin sister" Corinne. Looking out I could see the surroundings of the orphanage...from missionary house to banana trees to mountains covered in crops of corn, Honduras was right in front of me and I was right in front of Honduras.

The next week was the life that I love to live. I mean, it's the same one I'm living now, but...but, it's hard to put into words. You do not know how much I love waking up and sitting on my "bed" in the early morning and hearing all the foreign birds...it sounded like I was in a jungle...the geckos chirped and the sounds...the sounds...and then the sugar cane bus came back down the mountain, honking so loudly that some nights I'd jerk out of bed, and other nights I knew I was exhausted because somehow I did not hear that thing.

Seriously, 3am every morning it goes up and starts what we called "the circus" (because after it honks, all the chickens, dogs, and cows start making noise as well) and then it'd come back down at 6am...same thing. I never disliked it. I never liked it. It was part of the experience, and I was so tired and so in love with where I was, that it really didn't matter. It may also be of note that this thing could honk you all the way across the ocean if it so wanted you there...so I figured it should be my friend and not complain.

Back to what I was originally stating! I'd wake up in the morning, sit there in bed, then breakfast was announced and we'd all gather around the table and pray and eat. Then devotions. Morning worship equals THE BEST WAY to start the day.

And then it's time to work till noon, when we'd have lunch, and then maybe a little walk or siesta and then work till 5 when we had dinner. The village kids would come to play around then and would stay till dark when we'd make our retreat into the orphanage for snackytime.

And that's what I love. Serving. Serving Jesus. Doing something that's so much bigger than you. Having to rely on God, especially when you're terribly sick for 24 hours and at your weakest point...but still...I do not regret that. It was a time of growing (and groaning) and God was merciful through it all.

Coming together as a family for God. Growing closer to the team and to the kids and the locals. Laughing when you can't understand each other, poking fun at Bob because he hates spicy things. Having the best discussions about living your life completely for God. Oh, how I loved that week there. Oh, how much I learned in my week there.

As if that wasn't enough, I rode in the tut-tuts, saw the ex-president of Honduras, bought a machete (and jalepenos), gave out ten billion hugs, ate lots of delicious food, washed my clothes by hand, ate the most amazing fresh banana in the whole wide world, and fell so in love with my Jesus.

And I came home. And everyday I want to be back there. But Jesus tells me, "No, you are here. Because I want you here. You're needed here just like you were needed in Honduras." So I spend my days loving, and giving what I've gained, studying, yes, and studying...playing cello, praying, cultivating a relationship with Jesus that gives me the strength I need to get out of bed and do school and see gray and cold. I'd rather be in Honduras, but I don't want to be operating out of the Father's will, and right now, His will is for me to be here. So here I shall be. And here I am.