A Heads Up Before We Head Out

In 9 days my wife and I will be flying to Honduras and living there in an impoverished area for three months.  We will be working with Mercy International, constructing houses for the poor and possibly helping kids in the school system.  There is a lot up in the air so late in the game.  We just now secured a 2-room apartment that supposedly has a bed init--the condition and cleanliness of the bed unknown.   We do not have cellphone arrangements worked out and may have to wait until we get there to do so.  These and more create high anxiety for me.  My wife is much calmer about it than I.  That's fortunate; we'd be getting nothing done if both of us were tucked in a fetal position.  I think I'm regressing; I don't recall sucking my thumb prior to making this monumental decision.  Of course, at my age recalling my DOB requires a post-it note.

I'm anxious about immaterial matters, such as not being able to get a deep tan.  I love the sun and have for decades.  Apparently, the sun doesn't share a similar fondness for me.  In recent years a dermatologist has made me aware of numerous sites of skin cancer, basal cell carcinoma.  I have been having them removed 2 or 3 at a time.  I have vowed that I will now protect myself with sunscreen.  The thought of being lily white after three months in Central America is not appealing.  However, the thought of possibly no more surgeries requiring staples and stitches to close the sites is very appealing.   My vanity will take a hit.

I'm anxious about important matters.  I have friends and family that are terribly struggling with life.  I don't believe that staying home would make a difference in their life. That's not the issue.  The issue is that being here gives me a sense of security in that at least I am available and can see and talk with them and do something for them if they requested.  I will feel helpless living so far away. 

I can feel the sadness slowly mounting as the reality of our departure draws closer. This past Sunday  was the  last time we  will see our friends in our community of faith.   I know I won't be able to embrace and say good-bye to everyone that I care about.  We won't get to see everyone before we leave, and words will be left unspoken and hugs withheld.

Yet, in all of this I am nonetheless excited.   The day we arrive there will also be a team from the U.S. flying in to do construction work.  I can't wait.  If possible I want to start building with them or hiking up into the mountains with them to build a shelter up there.   My  adrenalin is pumped;  I don't want to gradually tiptoe into this adventure.  I want to plunge in.

I am excited about the prospects of making an impact on families--an impact lasting for generations.
I'm excited about how all of this will impact ourselves.  I have a feeling that the intensity of this work and the harshness of the environment will serve to purge our marriage and make it stronger.  I'm not looking forward to the stress it may place on our relationship, but I view the stress as a means to a beautiful end.

I realize I am rambling and for that I apologize.  I'm not feeling real linear and sequential right now.  I also apoligize for the long delay in posting this blog.  I'm very distracted.     

I hope to post one more blog before we leave on 2/25.  Electricity and the Internet down there are not particulary reliable.  Consequently, I don't know how frequently I will be blogging.  Also, we could be up in the mountains working for a week at a time with no access to computer.  I appreciate your patience in all this.

I intend to chronicle these coming three months and share with you our experiences.  I appreciate your reading and following thus far; I hope you'll stick with me.