Last year, I helped build a Pila for Jose Ricardo’s family. He is a young boy suffering from hydrocephalus. It was especially powerful because the young boy was not doing well. Each day we were in deep prayer for his healing, and some days we were just awaiting the news of his death. But the glimpse of hope was in the boy’s smile. His whole body lay swollen, in a twenty by twenty room with ten others in the children’s ward. But his smile never lost its light. One year later, Jose Ricardo is reading, and his joyful smile remains.
My first days in Honduras taught me the joy of hard work alongside others. Of joy not due to circumstances, but on the posture of the heart. To this I was ready to return. A renewal of a pure heart. Arriving at the compound at Little Hands Big Hearts, the word that filled my spirit was home. I felt like I had arrived home after a long journey away. And it was a long journey, a year of rethinking how I view myself in light of God’s never failing grace and never ceasing faith, despite the doubt and frustration that leaks from my pours. When I leaped out of the van after two days of traveling, breathed in the salty air, and looked out to the jungle just beyond the property, I felt connected to what the Spirit was about to do. And the truth is, he never fails.
roam&wander 