1-3-11 – 5:30 p.m. After fourteen and a half hours of travel we have arrived at Copan Runias. I would be hard pressed to really describe some of the poverty I witnessed today driving here. I actually saw a family with young children digging through the dump. I don’t know if they were digging for food or for items they may have found useful. Everywhere we stopped in San Pedro at an intersection somebody was selling and hustling something. They sold fruit, cell phone chargers, dolls, and compact discs. I actually witnessed people traveling through town with horse and buggy fitted with car tires on the wagon. The shed in my backyard is nicer than many of the houses I saw in town. Unbelievable.
The trip from San Pedro to Copan Ruinas included three hours of winding roads, speed bumps, potholes, and a case carsickness for me. We ate breakfast at the airport in Houston about nine hours ago. The combination of an empty stomach and sitting sideways in the back of the Land Rover made me nauseous. The whole road up the mountain has only two lanes. People drive reckless here. We are less than an hour from the border of Guatemala. The culture is very different here than back in the States. Life is hard. People have to work hard for even the basic necessities while we take so much for granted back home. Hondurans seem to enjoy the simple pleasures and blessings in life like family and friends. The pace of life here is much slower. Many people have no choice but to walk wherever they go. I have seen people walking or hitchhiking rides wherever we have gone.
I noticed we all walked slower on our jaunt to dinner at Jim’s restaurant. Jim is an American who moved to Honduras nearly a decade ago after his parents died. He serves burgers, pizzas, and lasagna. Jim is single and I would guess in his late fifties or early sixties. I do not think he is a believer but Steve assures me he is working on him and has been for some time. Jim has heard the gospel but has been resistant so far. He is very nice but nice does not get you into Heaven. The electricity went out all over town while we ate. Jim cranked up his generator to restore power. This is a common thing each evening I am told.
After dinner we wound our way back down the cobble stone streets of Copan Ruinas back to the mission house. The house is a modest three-bedroom house with two bathrooms. There is no central air conditioning or heat. The temperature outside is in the middle seventies and will drop off tonight into the low sixties. Jase and Mark are sharing a room. Steve and I have our own private rooms. I am exhausted. Though it is only a little after 8:00 p.m., I am ready for bed. We made it safely to Honduras.
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