Comprendo comprando

Following the start of orientation, which consisted of worship/devotional time, insurance/banking talks, and meeting our principals, we were given our first set of Lempiras [Honduran currency, where 20 Lempiras is roughly equivalent to 1 US dollar], a basic shopping list, and told to meet back at the bus in 2 hours.

Apparently it was shopping day for everyone in Tegucigalpa, because the mall grocery store was packed with people. We first stopped by the photo place, where we got our residency card pictures taken. When I asked the new teacher coordinator what a residency card was, she said that basically it's to say you have permission to be here in Honduras and you don't get kicked out of the country. Needless to say we won't get our cards for awhile still, so I'll have to keep acting American, which is not hard every time I open my mouth.

We then commenced to grab some empty grocery carts and wheel them into Hiper (the Honduran Wal-Mart), eyeing our shopping lists and at the same time trying to navigate our way among the many aisles. Thankfully my housemate and I stuck together most of the time, which was most helpful when converting prices from lempiras to dollars (to find out realistically how expensive something is) and trying to find the best deals. My housemates and I decided to buy our own groceries, and it was quite the adventure finding my inventory in the store. The Honduran brands, for the most part, tended to be cheapest, and I learned that soup (sopa) comes in a bag. Also, we each bought a fan for our rooms, to drown out the dogs barking/neighborhood noises and to keep cool when the humidity intensifies.

At the end of our time in this one-stop shop, each teacher had piled high items in their cart and we caravaned over to the cash registers. At one point, I looked down the row of registers, and the IST teachers had almost completely taken over! It was almost comical. I did notice that Honduran families, unless they know each other, are usually reserved in the grocery lines, paying and leaving, not making much conversation with the clerk as I expected they would.

After we paid (counting out our Lempiras and hoping we had the right amount) and bagged our groceries, we were able to push our carts right out to the IST bus waiting for us outside. Because of the lines, my housemates and I were the last to get back to the bus. Although, I think I also slowed us down, because I had a dud shopping cart, which kept forcefully veering to the right, as if it had a mind of its own. So I had to dig in my heels and push it the other way just to make it go straight. Thanks to the help of another teacher also helping me counteract the force of the cart, we were able to avoid the mud puddles in the parking lot, but by the time we arrived back at the bus, I was exhausted. With all of our newly made purchases (fans, ironing boards, fruit, microwaves, rice, sheets, etc.) taking up the seat space, we all squeezed in where we could. I was nudged in between the back of a seat, three grocery bags (which I alternated to my lap), and a microwave; the bus seat kept tipping over with the imbalance of weight, causing me and whatever I was holding to go toppling onto the floor. I thought it was pretty hilarious--another experience to remember.

The crazy part was that at each drop-off, the teachers of the house would have to find their groceries in the pile up. My bags were all over the bus, and I'm so grateful for the chain of teachers who helped me find them! And of course, as soon as we unloaded our groceries onto the pavement in front of our casa, it started raining! Gotta love Tegucigalpa!

Fortunately

We had only been in Casa Verde an hour when we found ourselves out on the street in the rain.
Now, I feel I have been truly welcomed to Honduras.

My housemates and I were half-way unpacked, having discovered the items the last teachers had left behind (anyone want a bright purple hat?), when we found ourselves informally congregating around the dining room table. Interrupting our talk, Eduardo beeped his horn and we ran out to get our lunch delivery.

Here's how the story unfolded:

Fortunately, my housemates and I had lunch.
Unfortunately, our house door slammed shut and locked behind us.
Fortunately, I had snatched my keys off the dining room table before we ran outside.
Unfortunately, we spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to use them.
Fortunately, we had time to kill and were able to be flexible.
Unfortunately, storm clouds were rolling in.
Fortunately, we knew where the other teachers lived and they were welcoming to us and let us use their internet.
Unfortunately, they didn't know how to open our door either.
Fortunately, they had a cell phone where we could reach the new teacher coordinator.
Unfortunately, we saw lightning and felt the first drops of a rainstorm.
Fortunately, the neighbor across the street wanted to welcome us with homemade "enchiladas" (similar to tostadas), which were a delicious and pleasant surprise.
Unfortunately, I wasn't able to express as much gratitude as I felt.
Fortunately, it was pouring rain while we met neighbors, enjoyed Honduran enchiladas, and I learned the first lesson in being flexible and making the most of the given moment.

(Oh and if you're wondering: After much needed coaching and various trial/error sequences, we were, in the end, successful in unlocking the door of our house. It will be an adjustment, but, in my mind, that's all part of the adventure.)

New Arrivals

At 11:15am, our airplane came to a screeching halt at the end of the Tegucigalpa runway. Everyone (including native Hondurans) cheered and clapped for the successful, if not impossible, landing. We had arrived!

I had already met up with several other new IST teachers in Houston, and after lugging my carry-ons up the flight of stairs, ran into the rest of the group, which had arrived from Miami just moments before. Perfect timing! We made it through customs with no problems and created our own IST corner of the airport, where the school chaplain and new teacher coordinators were eagerly expecting us. Our train of unwieldy duffel bags snaked behind them across the parking lot to the awaiting school bus, and I'm so thankful for the IST staff who gave up their lunch break to load all the luggage! On the way, there was a flurry of introductions and I tried to sort out all the names of my fellow teachers. I'm excited to get to know them!

The bus driver meandered us wide-eyed newcomers through the narrow streets of the city, stopping at each of the teachers' houses and helping us locate our suitcases from among the pile. The smell of warm bread wafted through the bus windows and made us smile in anticipation of Honduran cuisine. I will get used to a similar bus route to todos las casas as I share the "teacher bus" in the morning and after school.

Finally, we arrived to mi nueva casa and I unloaded my bags along with my new housemates, Jenny and Jessica. With the luck of the draw, we chose rooms for the year and checked to see if everything worked. Once that was done, we put on some music and began the process of unpacking. I'm thankful all our suitcases arrived and for a place to call "home" while I'm in Honduras. This is orientation week.

A Story About a Donkey

Yesterday, a couple from church called to offer encouragement and prayer over me before I left. After hearing their words, I knew God had spoken through them.

They shared with me:
Psalm 18 (Go read it, and you can't help but be more in awe of the God who rescues!)
and this story:

An old farmer was walking into town, with his donkey trotting faithfully alongside him. His donkey had been with him since he bought his first farm, but now was too old and tired to carry him. So they sauntered together down the dirt trail as the old farmer hummed a despondent tune.

They were nearing the edge of town, when the donkey misstepped, and, trying to right himself, tripped a second time and fell head-first into a very deep and ancient well. Surprised and distraught, the farmer gazed down at his donkey and considered the situation hopeless. "I'm old, the donkey's old, and the well's old. Best, let it be the donkey's resting place."
So the farmer continued into town and gathered all the men and shovels he could, to help give the donkey somewhat of a proper burial inside of the old well.

The truth was, the donkey was, although shaken by the sudden fall, still very much alive and trapped inside the well. So, when the clods of dirt started raining down on him, he shook them off, annoyed, and stamped his feet. More and more shovelfuls poured over the edge of the well, and the donkey kept shaking them off. After a while, he realized the ground below him was getting higher with each time he shook the dirt off his back, and he could step up on this higher ground! So, he shook off the dirt, and stepped up. Shook off the dirt, and stepped up.

Soon, he neared the well's opening and he could hear the voice of the farmer. "More dirt, men!" the farmer called. The loads of dirt and rocks piled on quicker and heavier than before. The dirt stung the donkey's eyes and the rocks dug into his skin, as he struggled to shake off the dirt and step up onto the next level of ground. He caught glimpses of the cloudless sky above and knew he was almost free. "Last load now," the donkey heard the farmer's voice go hoarse and the farmer commence into a coughing fit.

The donkey pushed hard against the ton of dirt, propelling dirt clods into all directions and splattering the astonished faces of his gravediggers. Reactions of "What the..?" then, "Look Marv!" broke out among the men. The old farmer's shovel slipped out of his grasp, as he stared wide-eyed into the face of his donkey. The donkey shook himself off one last time and gave a loud bray. The farmer scratched his head, astonished at this unforeseen miracle, "Well, I'll be darned..that's some determination" He went over, patted the donkey's back, and grabbed the muddy reins. "Let's go home, boy." [And they did.]

******

So, whether we find ourselves at the bottom of a well or seemingly being buried alive, we can trust that God will use adversity in our lives. Trials test us and we have a choice to rely on God's power in our weakness, helping us to step up and out of the pit, or to give up hope and end up suffocating on something that was intended to strengthen and empower us. When we choose to trust God with our trials and to deliver us from our enemies, he indeed rescues and brings us into the light of his promise and plan for our lives. Each trial forms us more into the image of Christ.

Prayer for 100 years..and then some

As I sit here in the Sacramento airport, I contemplate the amount of encouragement and prayer I have received over the past few weeks. From laying on of hands at Bible Study to the warm hugs at my Adios party, I have been richly blessed by friends and family interceding for my journey.

Thank you to all who committed to praying for me, all who fixed my missionary card to their fridge, all who gave me scripture or shared about your time in Honduras, and all who have been influential in bringing me to this point. All of your time and prayers have meant more than you know, and God who is faithful will answer.

At International School Tegucigalpa (IST), each elementary school teacher selects a class verse for the year. As I prayed about what verse to share with my 4th grade students, I was reminded of countless times in my life when God had answered prayer (often in ways I could never plan) and particularly of His promise in Jeremiah 33:3.

So as you continue to pray and follow me along this adventure of serving God in Honduras, be reminded that God is sovereign and that He hears, provides wisdom, and works in ways we would never expect.

Jer. 33:3
'Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.'

Mailing Address

Several of you have asked me about my mailing address in Honduras.

If you want to reach me by mail, my mailing address will be at the International School.

You should address any mail like this:

Laura Diaz

International School

Box 2282

Tegucigalpa Honduras
CENTRAL AMERICA

It takes approximately one month for letters/packages to arrive in Honduras from the States.

And of course, you can always keep in touch through e-mail (ldiaz@westmont.edu), facebook (Laura C. Diaz), or skype (misslauradiaz). Hearing from you would be a great encouragement to me!

Adios and Rootbeer floats

You are invited to drop by for a Root Beer float at the Diaz Home, 13 Marlin Court, anytime from 7-9 pm Sunday night - August 8th- to say "Adios" to me as I'm leaving this week to teach 4th grade at International School of Tegucigalpa, Honduras. I'll have a slide show of pictures of the school/Tegucigalpa, so you can see where I'll be! Stop by if you can; I'd love to see you before I embark.