Summing It Up

I suppose one thing about any mission-oriented trip is the assumption that everyone attending has similar intentions. On our particular trip, we met many people who certainly desired to help others, as well as those around them. We all came from varied backgrounds, yet like-minded in our goals for the week. Just as we do with anything else we start, there is a fizzle-factor as time goes on. You start things off with a bang, and then, well, you know. The assistance the Hondurans need is like a bucket you cannot fill up. And here are 60 volunteers, ready to rock-n-roll. I met volunteer families that were "all-in" all week. I met doctors that could use any utensil in surgery to correct any abnormality, and were not only quick-witted but quick at thinking on their feet. Literally. I met couples whereby one of them had convinced the other one this trip was a good idea. There were people of all sorts in this group. And I can safely say I am just as quirky as the person next to me. And as I begin to look around during the week in Honduras, I could see it as if it were a movie. Or better yet, a reality show. People forming clicks and connections. Others reserved and biding their time through the week. There was "one" of everyone there, with each person finding their spot on the Helpful Scale. Luckily no one was judging anyone. People may be observant of what was happening around them, but each person let the other "paddle their own canoe". This mission was a chosen endeavor, not a required course in college. There was no grade given for participation. There was no one standing around to make sure everyone participated equally. It was great, as each person contributed to their own desire or capacity. Some people held strong the whole week, while others fell victim to the fizzle-favor. But that's what it's like being with 60 people for 7 days on this mission trip in Honduras.
The one thing I am unable to speak about at great length was the Children's Home(s) on the ranch. The original intention along with the surgery center work, was to have activities for the children such that the volunteers could participate. This was accessible to more of the general volunteers than the clinical volunteers due to the time spent at the surgery center. We did have a little time here and there for the children, which was very nice. It was intriguing to see how it all operates. There are homes for the children based on their ages and gender, with staff that cares for them. (I later found out the ranch has approximately 200 employees.) They start doing chores from a young age, around 2 years old. They give them brooms to sweep, even machetes to cut the grass with. Well, maybe not the 2 year olds. But the children learn at a young age how to perform many tasks, and are given the opportunity to do them, even if it means they do the chore without success. It's the practice and participation that counts. With time, they can sweep, and they can cut the grass with a machete. They go to school, and after school, there are chores to do. They do get play time, and it appears one of their favorite things to do is play soccer. They are not good at it. They are great at it! In their flip-flops, they move, run, kick, and chase the soccer ball like they are on a professional team. There were a couple of opportunities for the volunteers to play soccer with the children and those that did got their butts kicked, or at least a good workout. The children eat dinner together, they help each other, and have many activities during the week. Many things from singing to making crafts for the gift shop to sports outside in the beautiful weather. The children stay busy, and you don't see them out free-ranging. They are kept close, monitored and watched for their safety, and well-loved by the staff. It's a family. Their family, and it's what they know. Being inside the ranch gate is almost like being in another country. One of opportunity, hard work and love.
So as the week went on, I can tell you what I did, and what David did. Well, maybe not all David did, because he was busy in his own world while I was at the surgery center. I was an OR RN circulating surgery cases each day. David, as a general volunteer, would sign up for his "chosen" duty as the other volunteers did each evening. I say David would sign up, but instead, he would wait for everyone to sign up and take the chore(s) that were left for himself. As you can imagine, it would be the least appealing work to do. He did his fair share of shoveling poop on the farm and taking the trash up the hill to the incinerator to be burned. Now, so did others, don't get me wrong. I remember one teenage young man who did trash duty several times that week, too. The trash is not just trash. It's surgery center trash full of unspeakable things to be carried in trash bags that may leak on you as it's being carried up the hill. It's not pleasant, yet work that has to be done. As the week went on, one of David's early morning duties that he took on as his own (it was not on the list) was to make coffee for everyone, each day. There was a large coffee pot provided to the volunteers, with the notion that "someone" would make coffee in it. So, David would wake up around 3 and start the coffee, as the coffee pot took 30 minutes for it to brew. Then, he would make Round 2 of coffee after all of that was consumed. The volunteers never ran out of coffee during the week. They could simply walk out of their rooms and boom, there's coffee. (Which I loved!) Then off they would go to their appropriate work places for the morning. The general volunteer's jobs each day could be different in the morning than in the afternoon. Most every day, David would head into the kitchen and work with the 3 kitchen spanish-speaking staff workers to assist them. He would cut, prepare and cook food at their discretion, and then wash and clean the dishes. They grew to love him and trust him. David would take a portion of the food down to the surgery center for them to have. And any other duty they would like him to do. He liked having this regular time in the morning doing these things, before he went to his other job duties that day. He's comfortable in the kitchen, and these three women came to rely on him. And David enjoyed his time there each morning.
I'll fast forward a bit because as I write this, it seems very mundane. Cooking, cleaning, and general not-fun work that David did for the week. This was other people's plight as well. Many volunteers did things they may not normally do in their daily life, yet they were all-in and worked hard.
Then, it happened. It's Friday night and the week of work is done. We all had our last dinner together before we are all to leave Honduras the following morning. Everyone is relieved, exhausted, excited, rejuvenated, and enjoying this last dinner. The room is filled with laughter, constant chatter, fun energy with everyone reflecting on the events of the past week. We eat dinner as we usually do, and the last presentation begins. The thank-you's, the shout-out's, and formal words of closure, a few more funny accolades were given and then a final award is to be given. The gentleman giving the award is going on and on about "this person" who everyone has raved about all week. He says when he asked each volunteer, that this name came up each time, of who was the most giving. And that "this person" would have their name placed on a plaque on the wall, with those who have followed before them (as he was holding up this particular plaque). I confess that while this was happening, David and I were talking nonsense about something funny that had happened, all the while this gentleman was about to announce "this person". And the winner of the award goes to (based on all the volunteers input) is DRUM-ROLL........David Graves! Well, since David and I were not paying full attention to this presentation and were in-our-own-world, we both looked like deer in headlights saying whaaaaaat, all the while everyone turned to look at us. The clapping ensued and David hesitantly stood up and began walking to the front of the room. The clapping turned into one person standing up, then another, then everyone. David's face was priceless, as he stood at the front of the room accepting his award. He had gone on this mission trip with no one knowing anything about him, nor what he does for a living or with any credentials. Just David who's there to help - not just the Honduran people, but the volunteers as well.
And that's basically how our trip ended. David says he got that award because he made coffee. Everybody loves coffee, right? It's a good example of how doing something so simple for others can trump all the complex things happening around you. Just so you know, David makes a mean cup of coffee. Absolutely delicious.
Side note: I knew David was more compassionate and caring than I was when I married him. I've kidded about that for about 30 years now. He's modest and flies under the radar. But the mission trip people caught onto him, and made sure he knew he was appreciated for his wonderful, kind and considerate self. I was happy for him, and happy to be with him. (I've got a lot to live up to to keep up with him.)
So as my final blog for our Honduras trip comes to a close, I continue to reflect and appreciate many things about it. What I hold nearest to my heart is the nature of the Honduran people. Their spirit, their resilience, and their composure. They stay strong in their struggles, and are brave when they are afraid. Their gratitude is infinite, and I am inspired by them. It was a privilege to be a part of this endeavor. The most common question I get is, "Will you go back?". I imagine we may, as well as look for other trips to contribute to. We really don't know yet, and trust that God will place us as He intends. The faith and trust we have will guide us.
Until then, we continue living our life, doing our thing. Reminiscing over it all, reflecting and moving to chapters in our lives we have no idea about. We have aquired several new farm animals in the short time we've been back home. And I can't wait to tell you all about it! I am where I'm supposed to be.
Home Sweet Home,
Cyndi