"Find the old road to La Esperanza; go five blocks, take a left. It's the house in front of the yellow house."
There are no markings. No way of knowing if we are in the correct part of the outskirts of downtown. We had tried to find this house for about 20 minutes already. We went up a steep, rocky hill, shifting the car into third gear, counted the nonexistent blocks and pulled in front of a yellow house.
False hope.
So we try again. We count. We come to what is, technically, block four and stop. We can see a yellow house, but the question is: is this the right one?
We climb out, four women and a baby. We exchange greetings and then file into the house. We are doing a post- birth visit. Checking on mother and baby. The young, first-time mother cannot be more than fifteen. She appears uninterested in us. Uninterested in her baby.
I stand and listen, doing my best to follow the conversation in another language. All the while praying. The new mother looks uncertain. The other girl training to be a doula and I remain silent- letting those with experience speak. I watch the new mother hesitantly take her son to her breast to feed.
It is asked if we could pray for her and later I am given the honor.
I pray Holy Spirit fills her heart with love for Him. I pray he floods the room she lives in. I pray she loves and cares for her little son more than she loves and cares for herself. I pray, more than anything, she finds the love of the Father.
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The value place on education is so incredibly low here in Honduras. A child, by law, is only required to complete the sixth grade.
What happens after that?
For the girls- making tortillas, beans and rice at home day after day.
For the boys- they go and find work; hopefully.
And for most, sex.
Honduras has the highest population of teenage pregnancies in all of Latin America. It is daunting and saddening. In my SBS studies, I am in Genesis (FINALLY the Old Testament) and I look at the promise God gave to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. The promise he continued on to Joseph and David and Mary.
The promise he fulfilled.
He is the same God who has spoken to the ministry I am partnering with while I am here. Honduras will be changed. They will see God.
This is the promise I have joined in on holding onto.
It is the promise of hope.
There are no markings. No way of knowing if we are in the correct part of the outskirts of downtown. We had tried to find this house for about 20 minutes already. We went up a steep, rocky hill, shifting the car into third gear, counted the nonexistent blocks and pulled in front of a yellow house.
False hope.
So we try again. We count. We come to what is, technically, block four and stop. We can see a yellow house, but the question is: is this the right one?
We climb out, four women and a baby. We exchange greetings and then file into the house. We are doing a post- birth visit. Checking on mother and baby. The young, first-time mother cannot be more than fifteen. She appears uninterested in us. Uninterested in her baby.
I stand and listen, doing my best to follow the conversation in another language. All the while praying. The new mother looks uncertain. The other girl training to be a doula and I remain silent- letting those with experience speak. I watch the new mother hesitantly take her son to her breast to feed.
It is asked if we could pray for her and later I am given the honor.
I pray Holy Spirit fills her heart with love for Him. I pray he floods the room she lives in. I pray she loves and cares for her little son more than she loves and cares for herself. I pray, more than anything, she finds the love of the Father.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The value place on education is so incredibly low here in Honduras. A child, by law, is only required to complete the sixth grade.
What happens after that?
For the girls- making tortillas, beans and rice at home day after day.
For the boys- they go and find work; hopefully.
And for most, sex.
Honduras has the highest population of teenage pregnancies in all of Latin America. It is daunting and saddening. In my SBS studies, I am in Genesis (FINALLY the Old Testament) and I look at the promise God gave to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. The promise he continued on to Joseph and David and Mary.
The promise he fulfilled.
He is the same God who has spoken to the ministry I am partnering with while I am here. Honduras will be changed. They will see God.
This is the promise I have joined in on holding onto.
It is the promise of hope.
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