Hands on our hips, feet shoulder width apart, chins confidently jetting out as we looked back at ourselves in the mirror with serious faces.
Our power pose. Nuestro pose de fuerte (because I didn't know how to translate it any better).
I looked at the two confident girls standing in front of me. Their squirmy attention spans and giggles filled the room as they waited for me to give them broken instructions on what we'd be doing next.
"Podemos hacerlo," I said with a smile attempting a classic Honduran lip point and head nod to signal they should say the same. They repeated in unison, "PODEMOS HACERLO."
We put our hands juntos, basketball team style (read: where your hands are all piled on top of each other), and threw them up in the air with a silly squeal while we shouted one more time, "PODEMOS HACERLO."
Little did they know this preparation for their final exams was as much for me as it was for them.
---------
Mas o menos most days I feel settled here.
I frequently force myself to wake up, sit in front of a candle or the ocean for personal morning prayer (the incentive of coffee helps with this), and ask for strength to get through the day (especially if a lot of Spanish is involved). Pero mi espiritu ha mejorado a great deal.
I've come to some pretty huge realizations in the two months (holy cow two months have flown by) at the Finca, things that I could've only realized in this space of: stripping away of distraction, an increase of emotion, a better understanding of sacrifice and love.
Without going into too much detail I'll just say Jesus is under major construction in my heart. He's determined, if I'm willing to put in the work, to build something more beautiful than I could ever imagine.
And once I realized this, I felt free.
-----------
"Mi Papi cantó una cancion para mi cumpleaños. Desperté a su me cantaba." James* told us wildly grinning after we surprised him in our traditional missionary fashion with sweet treats and a song.
After lots of ooo-ing and ahh-ing we convinced Tío Manuel to pull out his guitar and share the infamous birthday song with us.
The other young boys immediately got into formation, grabbing their hand instruments, standing next to tío and waiting for his cue.
Everyone was full of light. Genuine human connection bound each of us together. Language was no barrier, the fact that we've known each other for just a small blip of time didn't phase us. We were just happy to be present, praising and celebrating the life of James.
I remember feeling so purely joyful, even after a long and full day, to be standing around their mesa clapping along to a song I barely understood. I felt so known in that small moment.
---------
For a while I considered the different ways my new community could come to know me through my name.
Melissa is fun as it allows for different nicknames (Mel, Meli, Melis, Isa) and because we have a Marisa (hi girl, love ya) in our community I thought it might be better to be addressed as something different. I never did land on anything, and once you introduce yourself that's sort of what sticks! So I'm still Melissa.
Or so I thought until a special young girl here (who for some reason quite literally adores me) decided otherwise.
She just sort of took to me. I'm talking daily hugs. I'm her favorite secret keeper (which I often have no clue what she's talking about). She's my hymnal number helper (helping me find the song we're on during prayer). And she will drop everything she's doing to run up to me just to say hello. With her around, I'm never without a friend.
And in the short time we've been acquainted, she has given me a nickname: Isa-Polisa.
I'm not cien por ciento sure what it means. But it rhymes. It's more fun than Melissa. It makes me feel known. And it's accepting Jesus' gift to me through her sweet soul, which is part of His greater plan of the happenings in my heart (read: under major construction) .
So as with most things I've learned in Honduras, I just roll with it.
Pues please keep me close in prayer,
Isa-Polisa ;)
Our power pose. Nuestro pose de fuerte (because I didn't know how to translate it any better).
I looked at the two confident girls standing in front of me. Their squirmy attention spans and giggles filled the room as they waited for me to give them broken instructions on what we'd be doing next.
"Podemos hacerlo," I said with a smile attempting a classic Honduran lip point and head nod to signal they should say the same. They repeated in unison, "PODEMOS HACERLO."
We put our hands juntos, basketball team style (read: where your hands are all piled on top of each other), and threw them up in the air with a silly squeal while we shouted one more time, "PODEMOS HACERLO."
Little did they know this preparation for their final exams was as much for me as it was for them.
---------
Mas o menos most days I feel settled here.
I frequently force myself to wake up, sit in front of a candle or the ocean for personal morning prayer (the incentive of coffee helps with this), and ask for strength to get through the day (especially if a lot of Spanish is involved). Pero mi espiritu ha mejorado a great deal.
I've come to some pretty huge realizations in the two months (holy cow two months have flown by) at the Finca, things that I could've only realized in this space of: stripping away of distraction, an increase of emotion, a better understanding of sacrifice and love.
Without going into too much detail I'll just say Jesus is under major construction in my heart. He's determined, if I'm willing to put in the work, to build something more beautiful than I could ever imagine.
And once I realized this, I felt free.
-----------
"Mi Papi cantó una cancion para mi cumpleaños. Desperté a su me cantaba." James* told us wildly grinning after we surprised him in our traditional missionary fashion with sweet treats and a song.
After lots of ooo-ing and ahh-ing we convinced Tío Manuel to pull out his guitar and share the infamous birthday song with us.
The other young boys immediately got into formation, grabbing their hand instruments, standing next to tío and waiting for his cue.
Everyone was full of light. Genuine human connection bound each of us together. Language was no barrier, the fact that we've known each other for just a small blip of time didn't phase us. We were just happy to be present, praising and celebrating the life of James.
I remember feeling so purely joyful, even after a long and full day, to be standing around their mesa clapping along to a song I barely understood. I felt so known in that small moment.
---------
For a while I considered the different ways my new community could come to know me through my name.
Melissa is fun as it allows for different nicknames (Mel, Meli, Melis, Isa) and because we have a Marisa (hi girl, love ya) in our community I thought it might be better to be addressed as something different. I never did land on anything, and once you introduce yourself that's sort of what sticks! So I'm still Melissa.
Or so I thought until a special young girl here (who for some reason quite literally adores me) decided otherwise.
She just sort of took to me. I'm talking daily hugs. I'm her favorite secret keeper (which I often have no clue what she's talking about). She's my hymnal number helper (helping me find the song we're on during prayer). And she will drop everything she's doing to run up to me just to say hello. With her around, I'm never without a friend.
And in the short time we've been acquainted, she has given me a nickname: Isa-Polisa.
I'm not cien por ciento sure what it means. But it rhymes. It's more fun than Melissa. It makes me feel known. And it's accepting Jesus' gift to me through her sweet soul, which is part of His greater plan of the happenings in my heart (read: under major construction) .
So as with most things I've learned in Honduras, I just roll with it.
Pues please keep me close in prayer,
Isa-Polisa ;)
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