Thoughts from Honduras
2003
The Tragic Day
February 22, 2003
It was Saturday, nearing the end of a near perfect team week. The team consisted of 15 people from the Atlanta area. Two churches were represented, Glover Baptist, my sister’s church, and Grace Fellowship, where my parents attend. They had arrived and were departing with four others from Minnesota that had worked along side them the whole week.
(Our mission hospital, Loma de Luz, is in the final stages of construction. Even though the facility nears completion we lack the personnel to provide in-patient care and anesthesia for major surgery. Therefore, even though it is referred to as a “hospital”, currently only out-patient services are provided.)
The team was mixed, construction and medical, which has been the case for most teams in recent years. There were doctors, nurses, a pharmacist, experienced builders, office workers and college and high school students. There were married couples, one family and two men with their sons.
My sister and one other from Glover had been at Hospital Loma de Luz with another team from Glover and Grace another fateful day, September 11, 2001. They had experienced the anxiety of being in Honduras, separated from their families, receiving only scant news, awaiting the reopening of air travel so they could return home. This trip would be different, they had often mentioned. But with the looming war with Iraq, they voiced concern of again being stuck in Honduras at a critical time in history.
The team had arrived on time, all their luggage present, without incident. They enjoyed their “last meal in civilization for a week” at Pizza Hut in La Ceiba before boarding the bus for Balfate. The bus ran smoothly for the hour and 15-minute ride as the team enjoyed the scenery of Honduras in the light of the setting sun. Tired, but excited, they unloaded the bus, received a brief orientation and headed for bed, weary from their long day of travel.
The next day as my sister and another team member began work in the kitchen, the heat began to build. My sister asked if there was an extension cord available so that they might bring an additional fan into the kitchen. I found one, and hooked up the fan. Later our Honduran housekeeper at staff housing showed my sister an electrical outlet close by. They unhooked the extension cord, which sat unused throughout the rest of the week.
It was Saturday. The weather was beautiful. The week had gone well! There were complaints of having gained weight from the good cooking! Many relationships had been formed; between team members, with missionaries, with other North American visitors, and with Hondurans. There was talk of the next trip, who else to invite, what else could be done. There was excitement at the thought of returning home the next day.
The team had finished lunch and was preparing for a trip to the beach and the traditional Honduran meal at Maribel’s, the only restaurant in Balfate. We planned to go to our house for the afternoon, swim, sit in the shade, sip iced tea, stroll around the village, or sleep in the hammock, as each one so desired. People were getting on their beach clothes, applying sun tan lotion, gathering cameras, and waiting for 2:00, the appointed hour of departure.
Before lunch, my sister reminded me that she no longer needed the extension cord, and suggested I put it away. I told her I would get to it later.
The two teen-age boys from Minnesota were already at my house, having spent the night with my son.
As the last person was ready, the team decided to take a team photo before boarding the bus. It had become traditional for many of the teams to have their picture taken on one of our swinging bridges. The bridges for many had been symbols of overcoming fear. Some visitors had refused to ever use the bridges due to fear of heights. Many people felt fear, but overcame it, much as one does to ride a roller coaster. My sister was one of those. Earlier in the week, she posed on the bridge, hands raised in the air, demonstrating her triumph over her fear, standing right on the very spot that would later be etched into her and my memories forever.
I was given camera duty. I had a multitude of cameras on my neck, in my pockets, and in my hands. I chose a location to give me a good view of the team. They headed for the bridge. One of the team members from Minnesota, a physician, stood next to me, wanting to take one picture on his camera before joining the others on the bridge.
As I began to compose the picture, I heard a loud “ping” that reverberated through the bridge cables. There were a few nervous laughs from the team members that quickly turned to cries of surprise! One by one, people began to fall off the bridge backward. I heard the thuds of their impacts. I could hardly believe my eyes and ears. I don’t even remember what I did with all the cameras, as I ran toward the bridge, crying out for God to help us!
When I reached the bridge, I experienced waves of churning emotions in my stomach. Below the bridge was a line of bodies; most appeared motionless. Some were slowly moving. I could hear groans.
The bridge platform remained intact, but the rails had become slack. Entangled in cables and netting and holding on for life were three of the team members. One, the college student, was pulling herself up on to the platform. She yelled down for her parents, and received a reply from her father, encouraging her to hold on. One of our Honduran guards quickly arrived on the bridge, and helped pull her to safety.
Another, the pharmacist, Carol, was hanging by her trapped feet and holding on with her hands. I reached out to pull her up. As she held my arm, she began to free her feet. Her arm, full of sun tan lotion slipped from my grip, almost causing me to loose my balance. I advised her not to try to free her feet until we had more help, but to hang on!
One of our missionary docs was near by, helping set up with the dental team that had just arrived the night before from Montana. He heard the commotion, saw the situation, and radioed for help on his hand held ham radio. Those in our missionary community heard the distress call, and sensed the urgency in his voice. Rescuers began to pour into the accident site.
The doc then joined me on the bridge, and helped pull Carol to safety. Carol then began to ask about her husband, T.J. No one yet knew what awaited us below the bridge.
The third person still on the bridge was my sister, Amy. She was dangling be her feet, head down. Her feet were too far below the bridge platform to reach. I sat above her, not knowing what to do. Below her 40-50 feet lay a motionless body. I yelled for someone to move the person below. I prayed for God to help. I encouraged her to hold on. I tried to think of a way to rescue her! I had the thought that I was about to watch my sister die! The horror of making that phone call to my brother-in-law and my parents shot through my mind!
I thought of the towing straps in my car, and began to call for someone to get them. Then I remembered that I had come on my ATV, and that my car was at my house in Balfate. One of the nurses tried to get the garden hose nearby, but it was stuck under the wheels of a car.
I ran up to the housing complex to look for something, anything to help, but couldn’t find a thing. When I looked back at the bridge the same guard that had pulled up the college student was there with the extension cord! He had somehow managed to throw it around my sister’s body. On the ground below, two rescuers were securing the other end. My sister cried out, “I’m slipping!”
I yelled for her to hold on, and ran back on to the bridge. I tried to tie the extension cord in to a loop, but because of the distance, the loop around her body was at least six feet across. I had no hopes that it would catch and hold her feet. I was using my foot to try to push the first throw of the knot toward my sister. Why I didn’t think of tying a slipknot, I’ll never know. As a surgeon, I guess I did what I usually do; tie a square knot. I knew one throw was not enough! It needed at least one more to square it. But then she slipped! Terror swept through my being! But the single throw drew tight. The extension cord snugged down beneath my sister’s arms. She was dangling upright about ten feet below! God Himself stayed the knot!
The other doc ran to steady me. His arms came from behind me as he helped grip the extension cord and steady me on the bridge platform. The guard in front of me helped hold the line. Another guard and missionary wrapped the other end of the extension cord around the trunk of a tree. Amy was secure, and I began to have hopes that she would escape serious injury.
The cord was not long enough to let her all the way down easily. One of the rescuers below climbed the tree, and worked the cord up the trunk as we slowly let out line, lowering my sister to the outstretched arms of other rescuers. Finally, we ran out of cord in the tree, and had to release it. We braced ourselves on the bridge, and lowered my sister the last 10 feet to safety. I sensed a moment of exhilaration, and thanked God for His intervention, but quickly was brought back to the horror of what else awaited below.
Looking down, I saw many of the wounded moving around. Those less injured were assisting others. Rescuers were present, helping. A crowd of willing people was assembling, organizing a rescue effort. A boot was lying on top of a large bush, no longer on the foot of its owner.
I exited the bridge and headed down into the ravine. As I looked around, there was considerable motion. We had been blessed at this point in time to have present 6 doctors and one nurse experienced in emergency medicine, as well as many other medical personnel. A doctor and nurse were attending the motionless body of T.J. Lathe. He was in the last phases of life, probably having broken his neck in the fall. His weak pulse was fading. His breathing had stopped. Another crowd of medical personnel surrounded another team member, critically wounded. Other people were assessing and helping the other injured.
Rescuers began calling for medical supplies and equipment. Team nurses, just days before, had been preparing our emergency cart. I ran up to the hospital to locate some items needed and sent them back to the ravine with those waiting for an opportunity to help. Then I ran to our “com center” to radio our co-workers in La Ceiba. I advised them of the situation and asked them to notify the hospital of the pending severely wounded patients.
When I returned to the gorge, patients were being evacuated to the hospital on makeshift stretchers for better evaluation and treatment. The most severely injured patient was on his way to our trauma room. Carol was sitting beside the body of her husband, T.J., whose face had been covered with a towel. I sat and cried with her for a time. Others came to help her. Heavy hearted, I headed back to the hospital to see where I could be of most help.
As I climbed out of the ravine, I made mental inventory of the team and their injuries. A chill went through me as I realized I had not seen the gastroenterologist from Atlanta whom I had worked closely with all week! I remembered seeing the boot stuck on top of the bush. Could he or someone else be in the bush, yet unnoticed from the ground? As I entered the hospital I asked those present if they had seen the gastroenterologist. They had! He was helping with our critical patient in the trauma room! He had dislocated his shoulder in the fall, but had put it back into place and began helping others! All other team members were accounted for.
The trauma room was busy with plenty of qualified people helping put tubes and needles in our critical patient. I joined the effort. We appeared to be loosing the battle as his pulse was weakening, and was lost! CPR was initiated. Several additional therapeutic efforts were made. Prayers were vocalized. The pulse returned! Thanks to God were given!
Plans to transfer the patient were then formulated. I left the room to get my car ready for our sickest patient and to see what else was needed. Things were well under control throughout the hospital. The most significantly wounded were being prepared for transport in several of our vehicles. I backed our car to the doorway and began supervising loading of oxygen, IV fluids and other needed items. We had a few anxious moments as we had difficulty fitting the stretcher in the car, but soon modified the arrangement and headed for La Ceiba with four doctors and the patient.
During transport, one doc sat backwards in the passenger seat beside me, handing medications and changing IV’s. The others in the back were manually breathing for the patient and keeping the IV’s running. At the private hospital, the ER was ready. The general surgeon, neurosurgeon and internist were already working. Others of our wounded had arrived ahead of us and were being evaluated and treated. The surgeon took one look at our patient, and gave orders to head for surgery ASAP.
In the OR, the Honduran surgery team worked wonderfully! The Honduran surgeon was extremely meticulous and thorough, quickly identifying and repairing the life threatening injuries within the abdomen with skill. I initially assisted in the surgery. But as the injuries were controlled and the surgery began to wind down, my adrenaline surge passed. The need of water, and a flood of emotions took over. I excused myself from the operating room and looked for water and a place to sit.
Meantime, the walking wounded, with the help of our staff, had packed up all the team bags in Balfate and loaded onto the bus. T.J’s body had been cleaned up, and made presentable for Carol to spend some time with it in a private location out of the flow of patient care at our hospital. Arrangements were underway to transport the body to La Ceiba for preparation and transport home to the U.S. One of our missionary associates with a large vehicle came from La Ceiba to retrieve the body. The US embassy was notified which began a series of paperwork and phone calls that eventually resulted in the return of the body to The States later in the week.
Four team members spent the night in the hospital. The rest were housed in La Ceiba between two missionary homes. In the morning, while the four from Minnesota and 10 from Atlanta headed for the airport on the bus, one of the hospitalized patients was discharged and joined them there. The team looked like they had been through a war! One had a splint, another a cast, many with visible scrapes and bruises, all walking stiffly or limping. But their spirits were good! Despite the tragedy and loss, they encouraged us to keep at it! They reminded us that we were doing God’s work!
God had placed a visible peace on Carol. She certainly was surrounded with friends to give her comfort, yet comfort flowed from her to others.
Later that day, the critical patient was evacuated by air ambulance to a trauma center in Houston. He was joined by his family, has had additional surgery, and at last word, though still critical, is slowly recovering.
Two days later, the last three from Atlanta arrived home.
T.J’s funeral is today (March 2). The Hospital Loma de Luz family held a memorial service for him, on Thursday. A small cross was placed beneath the bridge. We gathered, sang, prayed, and several spoke about how even in such a short time, T.J., in his last week of life, had influenced them in a positive way for The Kingdom! Flowers and pebbles were placed at the foot of the cross in memory of our brother, who died while serving our Savior, and now is in His presence!
Though it has been a difficult week, some healing has occurred physically and emotionally. The wounds will need more time. We in our humanness want an explanation for, “Why?” God does not need to give us an answer. Our tendency is to cast blame and harbor anger. But God has called us to walk by faith, to trust Him. He is in control, and was not taken by surprise! He has a plan, even though we may never understand it.
Let us continue to pray for Carol and her children, those wounded, their families and churches, and our Hospital Loma de Luz community as we recover from the tragic day.
Chuck Brattain subsequently died of his injuries while in Houston, 16 days after the fall.
An investigation of the bridge is underway. An independent Honduran engineer will evaluate it and submit his report to the government. The bridges remain closed.
I am sure that many others have stories to tell of their perspective of this day! They know other details and had different experiences that represent more of the picture. This was my attempt to reconstruct what I recall about a day that I will never forget!
Pilgrims
March 14, 2003
Feeling tired and a bit overwhelmed at the death of two friends as a result of their fall from the bridge here in Honduras, and dealing as well with the possible reoccurrence of my mother’s cancer, I noticed my patience was wearing thin. I was becoming a bit irritable. As we drove around the city of La Ceiba running our errands, my Spanish seemed slow in coming. I had difficulty coming up with the right words, and making myself understood. I momentarily longed to be somewhere where only English was spoken, where I could be understood, could understand clearly, where I could be comfortable with the familiar.
As we were driving home, reading some of the new billboards in Spanish, I recalled that passing desire and pondered on it. I recalled that when I was in The States for five months, there were times I longed to meet and speak to Hispanics in Spanish. Whenever we saw a billboard in Spanish, we excitedly pointed it out to the whole family. And after only a month in The States, we were homesick for our home in Honduras!
What do I really want? I am not totally at home in Honduras, nor am I totally at home in The States! No matter where I am, there is an unmet longing for something else!
The answer is that deep in my spirit, I want to be home where my two friends, T.J. and Chuck, are. Not that I want to get there too quickly, please understand. I have no desire to hurry the process along by my own hand. I want God’s timing in this process! But the deep desire to feel at home, completely at home, comfortable, secure, rested, at peace, free of worry, free of threat of war, free of any more suffering, sickness, death, separation from loved ones; that desire can only be met in the presence of Jesus Christ, in the eternal home that He is even now preparing for us!
So for now, it is right, and to be expected, that I should feel a bit foreign, out of place, and a bit uncomfortable in this present world, whether I am physically in Honduras or The United States. That is part of the incentive God has placed with in us to encourage us to look and work toward the future. And that is part of the help we have in recruiting others to join us; for all men have that longing for something more!
We are simply all pilgrims passing through! The narrow road that leads to our true home is hard for the moment, and unfortunately is the one less traveled. Too many are choosing the wide, easy road, but will find only disappointment in the end. Let us together travel that tough road, recruiting others as we go, so that we may share together, by and by, the bounty and blessing of our eternal home!
Dear Jasmine
(Jasmine was a young woman who had completed high school, via home school, and was considering a career in missions. She traveled from The States with us on December 31 to become our “adopted daughter” for 2 ½ months. She celebrated her 17th birthday in Honduras, and participated in the rescue efforts during the bridge tragedy.)
Dear Jasmine,
We trust you have arrived home safely! Your room is so empty! We missed your smiling face and your perky “Good Morning!” today!
I don’t think we had talked much about “reverse culture shock.” Even if we did, this will mean more to you now than it did at that point. We struggle with this every time we return to The States.
Ten weeks in Honduras has changed you, probably more so than you now realize. It has changed you forever! You have seen extreme poverty that is seldom, if ever seen in the U.S. You have seen those who are sick and injured who have little hope or opportunity to receive health care. You have seen death.
We laughed and we cried together. We learned and prayed and worshipped together. You were part of our family in our good times and bad times. You have experienced missionary life!
You have had a life changing experience, but your family and friends at home have not! You will find that things that were once important to you now appear trivial. Things that you once held valuable will seem like nonsense. Even though you have had “a revelation” as it were, of what the world is really like, your friends and family have not. They may now seem to you to frit away their time and money on unimportant things, to talk about and seek things of little value.
This may make you angry! It will probably make you sad as well. You may sense a need to be a prophet and denounce the shallowness of our culture! Be careful! You have had an experience that others have not. Don’t make enemies, but instead recruit allies for the Kingdom! Tell your story! Use your enthusiasm! Be contagious! Inform in love. Judge yourself openly, but not others. Encourage others to go and see for themselves. Encourage those who can’t to help those who can.
You may also begin to feel guilt. You have so much, and the people in Honduras have so little. I remember after my first trip here, I took my family to Mc Donald’s for ice cream. As we ate the sundaes for “fun”, certainly not because we needed them, I realized that we were consuming the equivalent of a days salary for the average Honduran in Balfate! I experienced a wave of guilt!
It is good to reevaluate life and your choices in light of your experiences. It is good to be aware of needs and disparity in the world. It is also good to enjoy what God has given you without feeling guilty! You do not necessarily need to take a vow of poverty to follow Christ. God does call some to that path! Follow God, not your emotions. Test your feelings by The Word!
So as you become reacclimated to life, you will be in our prayers! We know that God has a special plan for you! We are thankful for the opportunity to have been a part of your life!
Your brother in Christ,
Dave
The Carousel Revisited
April 16, 2003
In 1998 as we prepared to leave the comforts of our home in Ohio for the unknown future of life in Honduras, our family struggled with the sadness of leaving the known and comfortable, and fear of the unknown that lie ahead. An illustration developed in my mind that help us cope with the transition.
Near our home in Ohio was a large amusement park, Cedar Point. Just inside the main entrance to Cedar Point was their original carousel. Even though it was very tame and very primitive in comparison to the exciting and complex amusements that awaited one inside the park, nevertheless, it was full of children and their parents enjoying the ride. As the ride finished, and parents tried to lead their children deeper in to the park, many of the young, uninitiated riders begged to go on the carousel again. Their parents sometimes let them ride again, but eventually tried to encourage their children to follow them into greater things that yet awaited, some needing to actually drag their unwilling children after them!
We are often like those children. We have become content with the small things, the tame things, the comfortable things of life. We enjoy them, for sure, but we have no idea of what we are missing, because we never venture further. Our family did venture further into what God had for us, and have not regretted it! Life has never been so full and rewarding! Our former life holds little appeal, like the carousel after riding one of the “big attractions” at Cedar Point.
My mother has cancer, and is not expected to live another year. She knows Jesus Christ in a personal way, and knows of His promises for her future. She has been riding the carousel of this life, and has had an enjoyable ride. But God is calling her deeper into the things he has prepared for her that no one can even imagine! My mom admits that even though she is a bit fearful of the discomfort associated with the process of dying, she is excited about what awaits her in heaven! Her faith is strong!
So as my mom prepares to join the millions who have entered the joyful eternity of God’s presence ahead of her, we will remain on the carousel a bit longer. We have the assurance that someday, we too, who share her faith in Christ, will move on deeper in to what God has prepared for us, and will enjoy a great reunion with those who have preceded us.
Waiting!
May 16, 2003
My mother’s death is imminent! She is nearing the end of a two-year struggle with cancer of the pancreas. Her initial surgery 18 months ago produced many months of quality time. In March, we received the news that the cancer had recurred. A cure was no longer a possibility. Time and quality were now the issues. The prediction at that time was 6-12 months. We decided to return to The States for a few weeks to help with some decisions and enjoy a bit more quality time with Mom. My mother urged us to come sooner than later, since she did not feel she had that much time!
The day after our arrival, I went to her oncology appointment with my dad and sister. The oncologist felt that the tumor was growing fast, and that the prognosis was less than six months. Mom was already struggling with pain control, so she enrolled in hospice. Within a week, her pain increased and she was admitted to the inpatient hospice unit, about a mile from my parents home, for better pain control. She had developed a bowel obstruction.
The options were discussed. She could have a tube put through her nose into her stomach to try to temporarily relive the blockage by decompressing her intestine. But this would likely only be a temporary fix, to be followed by another obstruction or the need of surgery. She could be evaluated for surgery, which might be able to relieve the obstruction, allowing her to live a while longer. But this would entail major surgery and the usual recovery afterwards. Besides, there was no guarantee that the surgeon could even relieve the obstruction. It may have been an “open and shut” case due to extensive tumor.
Mom, in her practical way, asked, “What’s the point of surgery? Why go through all that to turn around and die from the cancer anyway? Just keep me comfortable!” My mother is not afraid of death! She is secure in her faith that she will soon be with Christ, who has been the purpose and meaning of her life. Her only fear is the discomfort of the process!
Hospice has been great! Her pain control has been wonderful, via continuous infusion of morphine. Initial predictions of 7-10 days of life have now stretched in to three weeks, but decline is apparent.
It has been wonderful to see the body of Christ at work! My parents belong to a vibrant church that has reached out in many ways to help during their time of crises. There has been no shortage of prepared meals. Mom has enjoyed greatly the friends and family that have visited. She has had people sing, play instruments, read, and pray with her. Her initial days in hospice were times of wonderful fellowship, and built great memories for us all.
Now she is tired, and talks little. She listens and still enjoys the company, when she is awake enough to be aware of it. Every morning she awakens, she is just a bit disappointed that she is still in this world. Her faith has shone through, and her confidence in Christ is solid. Even in her last days, her few remaining tears from her desiccated body have been shed for her friends and family who don’t know Christ. She continually urges them to receive Christ so that she can see them again in heaven!
So we are waiting. We are blessed and thankful that we could be here at this time. It has been difficult, but worth the discomfort. We are learning about waiting for God’s time, and a bit more about life and death, and are witnesses to faith in action.
Ping-Pong
September 9, 2003
During the graduation ceremony from language school for our kids five years ago, I couldn’t help but wonder if the most significant thing we were doing for the kingdom was raising our kids on the mission field. As I looked around at the other proud parents, many were MK’s (missionary kids) themselves who had grown up, found a spouse in The States, and were now returning to the Latino culture of their youth. They had enrolled their families in language school to learn their “other” language so they could serve together on the mission field.
Little did we know how soon that would come to be proven true!
As I still struggle with the language and culture, my kids are quite comfortable, even considering Honduras their “home.” They have become part of the center of ministry here in Balfate.
Our little Bible study / fledging church group is made up mostly of Honduran teens that were “turned on” to Christ via the area youth ministry. These teens now form the core of the youth ministry, and my kids are in the midst of it.
Adam plays guitar both for the youth group and our church. Abbie plays the piano and leads the music with Adam for our church services. They are organizing a “worship team” as many of their friends gather to practice music with them during the week.
Abbie has from the start interacted very well with the area Honduran girls. They loved to come by and play board games and Play Station. Now, the teen gals frequently come by just to “hang out.”
Adam has developed several friendships as well. One young man is teaching Adam soccer techniques, while Adam is teaching him guitar. Another comes by to work on his English and gives Adam pointers on Spanish.
As we have watched this ministry unfold and develop, we have considered how we may support it. Recently in our town there have been several thefts, a murder, and some aggressive behavior toward the teen gals from some of the “macho” guys. This has caused concern not only for us, but also for many of our neighbors. Parents of young ladies in particular are concerned for their safety.
So, we decided to convert one of our out buildings in to a “youth center,” a safe place where the kids can hang out, play their music, play games, and have a Christian environment. Our kids eagerly entered into the renovation project! They painted the walls pistachio green, highlighted with their handprints in white. Adam and a Honduran friend installed most of the drop ceiling. Yesterday the carpenter finished our ping-pong table. It still needs to be painted, but was immediately put in to use by Adam and a Honduran buddy.
Rainy season is approaching, which coincides with school break, and boredom for many Honduran kids that don’t have anywhere to go or anything to do during the rainy days. So we are stocking up on popcorn and ping-pong balls! Our reading room has a variety of books in Spanish for various ages. We still lack some for teens and young adults.
So, I am learning to play second fiddle to my kids, trying to enhance their ministry as they model the life of Christ to their friends, and brace myself for loud music, rowdy ping pong games, and teens “hanging out” around the house.
Tomas
October 27, 2003
Tomas Funez is a wood worker. He is a quiet man who prefers to work by himself. He has worked building cabinets for the hospital and some of the area missionaries. But his passion is woodcarving. He would much prefer to sit in the privacy of his own home and carve.
He has made some beautiful plates, decorative spoons and other items. We have taken some visitors and teams to see him work at home, take pictures, and purchase some of his creations. Tomas lives in a humble home, feeding his family mostly with what they grow themselves. He has been selling his wood items barely above his cost.
Tomas wife, Dora is the “spark” of the business. Tomas gains great satisfaction from creating his works, and would probably just as soon give them away. Dora sees it as a way to better their life. Dora usually “advertises” Tomas products, and always accompanies him to our house to do most of the speaking and negotiating.
One day Tomas and Dora arrived at our gate with a request. They wanted me to help them purchase some hand power tools from The States. They felt Tomas could work much more efficiently with a handsaw, drill and saber saw. We helped them with a loan, and arranged the purchase of some of the tools. We also helped determine a better price for Tomas’ work that would reflect his actual time and material investment.
Tomas and Dora are Jehovah’s Witnesses. To us, that means that they do not accept Jesus as God, but see their works as a means of gaining salvation. Their church actually meets in their house.
Tomas and his wife have many times heard the Christian message of Jesus Christ, who is God in human flesh, and the only source of salvation, available to all who accept Him in faith. We have chosen for the present to not “preach” to them with more words. We have chosen to love them in deeds, unconditionally, even if they continue to reject Jesus as God.
Last week, as I was driving home from a day of hernia surgeries, Dora flagged me down. She was visibly upset. Tomas was very ill, and she wanted me to see him right away.
It was quickly obvious that Tomas had appendicitis, and needed urgent surgery. Hospital Loma de Luz at present lacks personnel to provide general anesthesia and in-patient care. I drove Tomas and Dora to the government hospital in La Ceiba, more than an hour away.
After I talked with the ER doctor, he admitted Tomas, examined him, and ordered blood work. He informed me that it would be hours wait for the results, and that he would then call the surgeon. So I left in search of some food for Dora and myself. When I returned 40 minutes later, Tomas was already in surgery! Soon we received word that the surgery was completed, and that Tomas was doing well. I visited Tomas two days later, and he continued to recover well. Today, I drive him home to Balfate.
Only God knows the future, whether Tomas, Dora and their family will recognize Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. For now, we continue to be their friends, and hope that some day we may be able to call them brother and sister.
A Great Day for Gardening!
November 16, 2003
Yesterday was a beautiful day, infrequently seen during rainy season. The day started out at 71 degrees, rising to a pleasant high of 83. The sky was clear blue, and the humidity was lower than usual. The day begged for outside activity! I had just the thing in mind!
There is a family that lives next to our church property on the edge of the soccer field. Two of the daughters, Julisa, 15, and Larisa, 12 are regulars at our services. Their brother, Elyon, 10, and little Herodes, 3, are frequently there as well. Their mother Marta occasionally comes. Also in their house is the grandmother. Marta is a widow, just getting by.
Their humble home is in great need of repair. It is in the middle of a cow pasture surrounded by a barbed wire fence that has been trampled down in several places. The pasture is sufficiently elevated that it is fairly dry, even when the adjacent soccer field is under water. It struck me as a perfect place to plant a garden! Marta liked the idea when I talked to her about it!
Since moving to Honduras, I have been experimenting with gardening. The climate and conditions are different than in Ohio! But I have been able to identify several vegetables that grow well here! Eggplant thrives, becoming a shrub! Okra and a long string bean, which produces a pod about a foot long, grow well. Also a type of squash, called “Running Okra” grows well. It really is more like zucchini, but resembles okra in appearance if harvested small. The standard Honduran red bean prospers and fixes nitrogen in the soil. Tops from pineapples can be planted and grown into a large productive plant. Coconuts do well too!
The economy of Balfate, our town, years ago, was based on coconuts. Standard Fruit Company, known as Dole, built the town, put in electricity, a railroad, and a boat dock to support the industry. Several nice homes were constructed. The landowners were making a great living leasing their property. There were lots of jobs, drawing people from other parts of Honduras to settle in Balfate.
In 1975, hurricane Fifi hit Honduras, silted in the river, and marked the beginning of the decline in Balfate. The fruit company, aware of the worldwide blight on coconut palms heading their way, pulled out of Balfate, still buying coconuts, but leaving the management to the individual landowners. They focused on other locations, planting blight resistant palms in anticipation of the disaster to come. Hurricane Mitch finished the work, taking the tops off the diseased trees, leaving fields of bare trunks standing like monuments in a cemetery.
Today, Balfate is run down, with little work. The people get by mostly by growing platano bananas and grazing cattle on a small scale for milk and meat production. It is hard to imagine the town in its prior state!
When we moved in, we had two flourishing coconut palm trees in our back yard. I kept watching them, waiting for them to turn yellow and die. But they continued to produce coconuts! They are a different variety that was resistant to the blight. Our neighbors frequently come by, asking for the coconuts to eat. They used to offer to pay for them, but we have never charged anything. Our first rainy season, we found one coconut off in the corner, hidden by a bush, sprouting a root and stem. I planted it out of curiosity. Today it is beginning to produce fruit! I planted three others the following year, which are doing beautifully.
Yesterday, I took three coconuts, a variety of seeds, garden tools, and two wheelbarrows, and headed to Marta’s house with my three kids. We recruited another neighbor, and a couple of Adam’s teen age friends to help. We got a good start on Marta’s garden. After removing the sod, we filled in the space with rich soil from the riverbed mixed with cow manure. We cut poles to set up 8 teepee frames for the green beans and running okra to climb, planted a row of red beans, and a row of okra. We planned out a grove for coconuts, and planted the first three.
There is still plenty to be done! I would like to plant a row of pineapples, transplant some eggplant seedlings, and start a few other things as well. The fence needs fixed to keep the cows, horses and pigs out. And the most important part will be supervising the care of the garden. I will need to work with the family, teaching them how to maintain the garden, while in the process building a relationship. My father, who is a master gardener, will be visiting us for five weeks, for the holidays! I expect he will play a big role in this process as well!
My hopes are that Marta and her family not only will have sufficient food for their family, but also may have enough to sell. And I hope that in the process, they will become disciples of Jesus as the Word of God, via our actions of love and the ministry of our church, will find root in their hearts and grow to produce fruit. I also hope that we are successful in our gardening, and that others in the community take notice, and desire to participate as well!
The Beginning of a Church
December 7, 2003
A couple of weeks ago, on a beautiful spring like Sunday afternoon, we baptized four on the beach where the Balfate River joins the Caribbean. It was preceded by an outdoor worship service in our yard, and followed by a reception. Many townspeople joined our church group to observe the four affirm their faith in Jesus Christ, and obey Him through the symbol of baptism. By so doing, they declared their death to sin and self, and their new life dedicated to being followers of Jesus.
Tonight, we celebrate Santa Cena, the Holy meal, The Lord’s Supper, or Communion. Tonight we officially become a church. Those of us, who are baptized believers in Jesus, will declare our desire to be part of a new local body of Christ, interdependent, serving one another, under the direction of our Head, Jesus. We will each sign the role, attesting to our commitment.
We will be called The Church of the Alpha and Omega. Our youth group, the core of our church, was begun under the name “Grupo Alfa”, or the Alpha Group. Others have mistakenly referred them to as the Alpha and Omega group. The name seemed to fit our church well! We have lots of young “Alfas” and a few of us older “Omegas”. But of course, our beginning and end is Jesus, The Alpha and Omega! This is His church!
The Rainy Night!
12/21/03
It was much like the Winnie the Pooh episode, “The Blustery Day”! As in Winnie the Pooh, the blustery day turned in to a rainy night. And like Pooh Bear, we awoke to find ourselves surrounded by water!
Wednesday was a very breezy day, which by the time our evening church service finished, had brought heavy rain. This was not at all unusual for this time of year, but the heavy rain persisted. At midnight, we heard the voice of Chileen Perry, one of our missionary nurses and neighbor in Balfate, on the radio, warning of the rising flood. We had experienced a major flood in Balfate two years ago. At that time our yard had filled with water, but our house remained dry except for some water seeping through the wall in one bedroom.
Never the less, I surveyed the house and yard for signs of water. The low spot in the yard was filling up, as it frequently does. I visually marked its limit to watch for changes. With satisfaction, I noticed that there were no leaks in our bedroom roof! Finally, that battle appeared to be won, at least for the moment. I also noticed that the water at the backdoor was draining away from the house. This had been a source of several minor floods in our bedroom. I had reworked the drainage pattern and put in a concrete slab sloping away from the door. I was pleased to see the successful results of my labor!
With a sense of security that my house was dry and intact, I went back to bed. The wind continued to howl, and the rain pounded. An hour or so later, I got up and checked again. The water level in the yard was a bit higher, but the house remained dry. I checked again an hour later. The water level was up a bit more, but still dry in the house. I returned to bed. A while later, the power went out, not at all unusual in Balfate, especially in a storm like this. I fell in to a deep sleep, lulled by the sound of the wind and the rain!
About 5:00 in the morning, still very dark, still without power, we heard a strange sound nearby; a watery metallic sound. We noticed the sewer-like smell that often accompanies heavy rain due to the lack of a P trap in our shower. As Becky commented about the strange sound, we heard it again. I felt for my flashlight on the nightstand. Its beam revealed the source of the sound! The cat bowl was floating, and bouncing into the wall, as was the litter box, shoes and various other items in four-inch deep water!
We rolled up our pants and got to work, rescuing what we could from the water. Our furniture was on blocks due to our prior episodes of flooding, but not high enough for water this deep! I spied my laptop computer in the corner. As I lifted the case, the water poured out!
Next I carefully opened the back door, expecting a wave of water to enter. But this was not the source of the flood! The concrete ramp and drainage system was working perfectly! Our bedroom is about six inches below the level of the main house, so the flood appeared confined to our room. I quickly went to the front door, and found water in our entryway, which is also below the level of the main house.
The front yard had been engulfed by the river! Lawn chairs and other debris were bobbing in the deep water. The river had not quite reached the level to our main gate, but could be seen churning, and heard roaring just beyond. I climbed our concrete retaining wall, and in the flashlight beam saw the waves lapping at, and working under a wood service door in the wall, allowing the river entrance to our yard. The water had reached the front door and one corner of the house. It became evident that the water in the bedroom had come up through the shower drain, as the septic system was completely underwater. I couldn’t tell if the water was still rising. The rain was still falling, and it was still dark.
Inside, we roused the kids, and rescued what we could from the water. The cat, which had been sleeping comfortably on the bed, decided it was time to get up. She stretched, as she usually does, and leapt from the bed, unaware of what awaited her. She let out a screech to wake the dead and quickly returned to the bed, shaking water off her paws in all directions. Quickly she burrowed under the pillows and moaned until rescued.
As dawn approached, it appeared that the water level was receding. I opened the door in the wall, allowing the water from the yard to return from whence it came. As Becky and my Dad pushed water inside toward the shower drain, I used a trash pump to clear the rest of the lake from the yard.
Our experience was minor compared to others in the village. Chileen’s house was in the main flow of the “temporary” river, and filled with sludge. Many homes were filled waist deep with water. Whole fields of sugar cane and platano bananas were destroyed. Animals were drowned. The approach to the bridge in Lis Lis was washed away, and will require heavy equipment to repair. Marta, the widow from our church, had a corner wall of her mud house dissolved by the driving rain. We patched that with some left over roofing. Her garden suffered little and is growing well! The power was out to the hospital for a couple of days, which reduced our Internet access via the satellite system located there to generator hours.
After drying in front of a heater for two days, the laptop computer worked fine! Our furniture has some damage. But after many loads of laundry, we are getting back toward normal. We will have to wait for the river to go down before we can drive across it, just like the “old days” here before we had bridges.
The Hondurans take all of this in stride, and almost seem to have a festive attitude about it as they met in the streets to exchange stories about this and past floods. For them it is just another bump in a very rough road of life. The North Americans seem to struggle more, as we are not accustomed to these inconveniences. Plus we have more “stuff” to lose. Hmm! There are certainly some advantages to having less!
