1-4-11 – 9:22 p.m. Lord, I’m nearly two thousand miles from home. You have much for me to see and to experience. I ask you to show me what you want me to know. You keep stretching me with more kingdom work. You keep calling me to trust you for new things. I want to say, “yes.” I do not want to shrink back in unbelief. I do not want to opt for the path in life that is easiest or filled with the most comfort. I want to follow you where you lead, even if it means the hard places on this earth. I ask you show me more about the abiding life so I can rest in you despite all you have called me to trust you for.
I have experienced a great deal today. I have encountered as much experientially as emotionally on this trip as I ever have on any trip I have taken in the past. It is hard to recount the events of the day even thus far. So much has already happened. Lord, you have further impressed on my heart I am to raise the money for this hospital. I am more convinced now this is the your will than I was before I came here. This is further pressed on my heart after tonight.
Thank you for letting me meet with the two doctors tonight to bring more clarity to this vision. I do not have the money needed for this project yet, but by faith I will in your time. I only know your call on my life to do this. I believe with all my heart it is your will for this hospital to exist in Copan Ruinas. I leave it up to you to move this mountain. I ask you for the money, for the land as well as for the hospital. I ask you to bring this to pass. Thank you for making it possible for me to meet Dr. Franco and Dr. Maritza.
After lunch earlier today we drove to the village of El Zapota. This village consists of eighty houses. Many of these houses have more than one family dwelling in them. These small mud houses cannot be over 500-600 total square feet.
It is not easy to drive to these villages in the dry season. It is nearly impossible in the rainy season. Most people in the States could not make it up the dirt road to El Zapota. You need a 4-wheel drive vehicle to traverse this rugged terrain. Even with 4-wheel drive the road is barely negotiable.
When heavy rains descend the dirt road is washed away leaving huge ruts and craters. We drove across five different mountain streams as we made our way to the village. We were jostled and bounced all over the place as we crept our way to the top. My right arm began to burn and weary from hanging onto to the seat so I did not tumble backward into Mark seated next to me. We sat sideways in the back of the Land Rover again so we had no back to brace our drive up the mountain.
On the way up I was struck by the sight of the number of men, women, and children walking either down the mountain or making their way back up. Once we reached the village and stepped into one of the homes I asked the lady of the house how long it took to walk down the mountain to the main road. She replied three hours. A sixteen-year old boy piped in he could do it in two hours.
Once they get to the main road they are still about five miles away from the nearest community. I am not talking about a city. I am referring to a small community of homes with a few local markets and one convenience store. This little community is still at least ten miles from Copan Ruinas. Most of the Chorti from El Zapota walk all the way or hitchhike a ride once they get to the main two lane road. There were no vehicles in the village when we arrived. I did see a man riding a horse and several others leading horses loaded down with coffee beans that are being harvested now. We drove forty-five minutes off the main road in the Land Rover to reach that village. There are times when the rains come and mission teams are forced to walk that long muddy road just like the Chorti.
Once we finally arrived in the village my heart sank to witness the primitive living conditions. The homes are made out of mud with tin roofs. Most of the roofs are rusted and not weatherproof. I did not see one window with glass in it. The windows are shut with wooden doors. The floors inside the homes are made of bare concrete. There are two rooms inside. The first room serves as the kitchen with a wood burning stove and a primitive sink. The initial home we visited had one small wooden table inside. There were no chairs. The families use outhouses for restrooms. The other small room serves as the bedroom. The only running water they have in the house comes from tapping into a stream further up the mountain and letting gravity bring the flow of water into the house through pvc pipe. I did not see where they bathe or shower. There is no electricity and the only way to get hot water would be to warm it up on a fire. When I had to use one of the outhouses it consisted of wooden planks nailed up with large gaping holes in it. I could see clearly through the holes to the people outside. The sewage wastewater runs right onto the ground.
The Chorti people work hard but have very little to show for it. They do not work hard to get ahead but rather work hard just to survive from day to day. Everyday firewood has to be cut. Every day the mountain must be traversed to harvest crops or to go to the market to sell crops and buy necessities. They wash their clothes by hand. These were some of my first impressions once arriving in the village.
We no sooner had climbed out of the vehicle than children starting flocking to us giggling and excited to see some “gringos.” Several of them stayed close to us throughout our entire visit. They were dirty. Many ran around barefooted while a few had rubber boots are flip-flops on. Most of their shirts were tattered and torn. Many of their noses were running with what appeared to be sinus infections. This did not slow them down. I did not see one toy in the whole village. I did not see a ball or a working bicycle.
One little boy could not speak. He grunted to communicate. He played with a broken cell phone charger pretending it was a pistol. He seemed perfectly content to pretend he fought the bad guys. Another boy used a stick to push two wheels from a broken plastic toy car. The car could not be found. He simply wedged his stick onto the axle of the tiny wheels and pushed them around making car engine noises as he went along. Like I said earlier, I never saw a toy, doll, or ball anywhere in that village.
I found myself drawn to the children. I played a mini version of tag with some of the youngest ones. They giggled and laughed each time I pretended I was going to tag them. They would squeal and run away only to inch back when I pretended not to be looking. I grabbed one little boy and sat him on my knee and bounced him like he sat bareback on a bucking horse. He could barely contain his excitement.
I wanted to see the church but could barely believe my eyes when they took me to what is known as the “meeting place.” The tabernacle also had a tin room held up with welded beams for support. The huge wooden corner posts were secured in the ground. This tabernacle did not contain walls. Nothing covered the floor. The floor is either dirt or mud depending on the season. I did not see any chairs. I guess you either bring a chair with you or sit on the floor. There were no pews, no stained glass windows, no pulpit, no sound system, no stage, or lighting. None of the things we have to come to expect in a house of worship back in Texas.
We are so spoiled. Children back home have toy boxes overflowing with toys but still walk around bored. It is not enough just to have their feet covered but in the States children have to wear the latest fashion in shoes. They complain when they are forced to eat a well-balanced meal at home while the Chorti children would be bewildered by the quantity of food we often throw away after a meal. They typically eat beans and tortillas with a little mixed fruit they grow themselves.
Those Chorti children were some of the happiest children I have ever seen. They don’t know anything about sports leagues, trampolines, Playstation video games, or flat screen high-definition televisions. I saw one child who could have not have been more than four years old contentedly playing with a machete. I did not see any older children around the village. I imagine they were out working in the fields picking coffee beans with their fathers. I saw many horses loaded down with bags of coffee beans. Many of these people walked long distances with bundles of firewood loaded down on their backs while others were loaded with bags of produce they had harvested to take to town. Life is hard here.
I cannot fathom the hardship these people live under everyday with no relief. Firewood has to be cut and hauled. The work never ends and they do not have anything but the most crude tools to work with. There are no televisions because there is no electricity in El Zapota. There are televisions and electricity back in Copan Ruinas.
A young sixteen year old boy named Nohway walks four hours round trip to catch a ride into town for a discipleship Bible study every other Saturday morning. Who back in Seminole would put forth that effort for Bible Study or worship? We drive just a matter of minutes in our luxury cars to attend worship services but stay home if the weather turns a little bad.
As I write this in the late night hours I am reminded that the scriptures challenges us, “To whom much is given much will be required.” Seminole and FBC have been blessed with abundance. I am firmly convinced God expects much of us as a result. I have personally been given much more than I have ever deserved or needed and God expects me to be generous with those blessings.
We experienced much more during the remainder of the day but I will have to save that for in the morning. Sleep is starting to over take me. I will pick up where I left off in the morning.
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