There and Back Again

Yesterday it's been 2 weeks since I've been back from Honduras.  Obviously it takes me awhile to relay information.  I've been talking with my family and we've been bouncing things off each other.  It's been hard for me to relate to what some of the others are saying.  I hate to admit it but I don't really miss Honduras.  Two weeks isn't long enough for my heart to get deeply attached or set down roots.  I'm just not wired that way.  Honduras didn't create some deep and powerful soul shift in my being.  I didn't have a spiritual mountain top experience or a particularly intense "God experience".  It was through a lot of frustration and confusion that I felt Jesus close to me everyday.  

When I look back, the things that move me are the little things.  Like how when we picked up a local pastor in the town to preach on a mountain.  We were introduced but he didn't speak a word of English.  As we sat in the back of the truck he started singing "How Great Thou Art" softly in Spanish.  After a bar I recognized the song so I joined in.  We did that, speaking the universal language with each other and worshiping our mutual King until we reached our destination.  Little pieces of time holding the weight of heavy unspoken lessons.  The washing of my clothes by hand while talking with an unexpected friend, the smell of the log soap, the heat of the sun, the sticky suds up my arms, the smooth bumps on concrete under my palms, the conversation edifying Jesus.  The sight of a concrete church, packed with people yearning for something that will fill them and finding it.  The smile of a little girl as she hugs her teddy bear tight because it's the only toy she has.  Communicating with eyes and gesturing silently with knives as I cut the soft white flesh of fresh coconut with little boys.  Digging a hole in the sand until sea water seeps up from the bottom and you watch the blind girl's face light up as she feels it's warm muddiness.

I'm sitting back here at my kitchen kitchen table watching the white flakes of snow fall down and I wonder if maybe I should have learned more or felt more or changed more like everyone else.  But I know I obeyed and it was a rough road that I don't regret taking.  I can't control how much or how little I learn, feel, or change.  That's God's department and maybe there's more there than I know right now, deeper reasons than the ones I'm aware of.  Just because I don't see the results I want doesn't mean I have exactly all that I'm supposed to.  All I can do is submit those experiences to God and trust that He does everything for a darn good reason.