Literally. We went up the mountain. Up is the key word. We rode in these trucks Honduran style...the back of the pick up truck. For those of you who think you may have a problem with road rage, go to Honduras and drive. Wow...I was shocked at how many times people passed us on curves or with oncoming traffic while we were in the bus. Our driver, Juan Ramon, was the most amazing driver I've ever seen! I'm very thankful for his gifts and abilities.
Back to the mountain. Guys were hired and off we went. As we drove up, you could hear the brakes squeak...I made a mental note to NOT choose this truck as we went back down. However, I did ride down in the same truck...partially because the guys going in the truck were ones I trusted for the most part and knew I would be safe with them. I yelled, "No me gusta, senor," the whole way down. Thankfully, the yellow truck used his brakes. The first truck that went down apparently didn't...they loved it! I, however, do not like roller coasters, and my stomach was a little tense as we drove down.
I gave infant and toddler clothes at this distribution. It broke my heart as young boys (ages 2-4) came through and I had nothing to give them. I have made it a point now to find and collect boys clothing to give for next summer.
After the distribution, we visited a house. Blanca welcomed us into her home and with her husband has at least four to six children (couldn't understand how many stayed there and how many she had). We did have a translator with us. The pastor had chosen a few families for us to bring a housewarming gift and they were able to show us a little bit of their life. At least four children in the house and only three twin beds in the house. Her kitchen was next door. Their house was maybe 15 by 15 or even 10 by 10 with a dirt floor. They used the same water for drinking, washing, and bathing. I did see an outhouse too. The kids go to school from 8-12 when the teacher makes it up the mountain...if it rains the teacher can't make it up (so instead of praying for snow, I asked if they prayed for rain).
I feel like after seeing their home that I waste a lot of time doing nothing. Parts of me do not want to go back home. I love the translators and our group.
As tiring as the distributions are, I love seeing the joy they get. I hate the desperation that you feel as we pack up. I hate that we can't give to all. I hate that they themselves can't pick...that we decide and had it over. These are the issues that I am still wrestling with.
However, I can do something about it. I can act locally with the poor and broken in my area. I can love those that are around me. I can spend myself towards the students and faculty in my school. I can spend myself loving them and giving of my time to them. I can save my money and buy clothes to take to Honduras next year. I can give my time to those around me who need a listening ear. I can needs to turn into action.