Today was our last at the projects. We packed up the tents, the crafts, the dulce (candy) for the last time on this Honduran adventure.
The kids cried.
Time to head home. But the damage has already been done. None who have walked these streets, sat in these homes, interacted with this beautiful people, will ever be able to scrape the images and encounters from our minds. Nor do we want to. But will this week really change us?
I guess that remains to be seen.
Love can’t be an event. Not something we block out for a week on our busy calendars. Not something that stays here in Honduras as we head back to our real lives in the United States.
But that will be the temptation. The direction the current will naturally try to take us as the intensity and focus of this controlled, planned experience abruptly morphs back into the comfort and familiarity of home.
That’s why trips like this can’t simply be something we do. Time moves on. The trip comes and goes.
These experiences have to be about what we become.
Tomorrow we have a day to relax and process together before heading for home. A day to drive these encounters into our DNA. To make sure this act of worship called Honduras 2010 wasn’t just a self-righteous photo-op.
As we loaded the bus this evening, almost too surreal to believe, a rainbow appeared in the rain clouds engulfing the mountains that look down on Las Delicious. Coincidence? Maybe. Cliché? Could be.
Or was God actually trying to remind us that there is hope?
Hope for all of us.