Reflections From Honduras...#2

You would think that after traveling to Honduras as many times as I have that coming home would be easy.  I wish I could say it was, but for some reason, this week in particular, I have struggled.  Maybe it's because it's 20 degrees out and there is snow on the ground and last week I was in shorts and a t-shirt.  Maybe it's because I can't just walk across the street to get myself a cold coke in a glass bottle (which by the way is the absolute best), or jump into an impromptu game of soccer with kids in the middle of the street, or yell "Buenos Dias" to every person that I pass (I guess I could start doing that, but my neighbors might think I am crazy).   Honestly, I think I am struggling, because once again, God allowed me to see a smidgen of what he sees on a daily basis and I am not always sure what to do about that.

Nevin was a kid that I would have taken home in heartbeat or at the least would have loved to have in my youth group.  We met him playing soccer in the middle of the road...literally in the middle of the road.  When a car, truck, dog, herd of bulls, woman walking with a big bucket on her head or bicyclist came through we would have to clear the way.  Actually, for us old and out of shape 35 year old gringos (Nate and I primarily), it was a welcomed break each time.  During one of those breaks one day, Nevin told us that he had to leave.  I asked him why.  He replied, "I have to go to work."  Keep in mind Nevin was only 12.  As we continued to talk he told me that he worked at a place right near our hotel that made shoes and worked anywhere from 6-8 hours a day.  I was immediately curious and I think he could tell, so he invited us to stop by and visit him.  We told him we would.  He headed off to work, we finished dominating in soccer (who am I kidding...have you seen Honduran kids play soccer?), gathered up our stuff, and headed home.

We knew that the little shoe store was close to the hotel, but didn't realize it was literally two doors down the street.  You would have never known it was a shoe factory, due to the fact that there was a huge coca cola sign on the front and the words "Liza's Pulperia," which would signify a place to sell drinks, food, and smaller items.  Nevertheless, we thought it was the place he described so we walked up to the door.  What we found inside there really aren't enough words for.

It was a really small space.  Really small.  It wreaked of the strongest smelling glue...that kind of glue  they would occasionally let you use in Art class in middle school that kids probably sniffed to get high.  It was extremely hot with very little ventilation.  There were scraps of fabric all over the floor, cut outs of pieces of material that would be glued to pieces of plastic that would be assembled to make a cute pair of black flats.  Much like the ones in my closet.

We immediately saw Nevin.  There he was working alongside of people of all ages, ranging from the youngest around 10 years of age and the oldest close to 70.  They greeted us with smiles that were bigger than the moon, Nevin's the biggest.  I couldn't help but think those smiles masked what was probably an extremely difficult way of living.

We introduced ourselves to Nevin's boss, whose name was ironically Gabriel.  I found myself praying that in some way, shape or form, he was an angel in the midst of a dark place.  We told Gabriel how much we loved Nevin, how beautiful we thought the shoes were, and how grateful we were that they allowed us to see their work place.  We smiled at Nevin and his co-workers, told him we would see him on the soccer "field," the next day, and waved goodbye.

Selfishly, I wish I only knew Nevin as the 12 year old kid that could kick my butt in soccer.  That would be a lot easier.  Instead, I know Nevin as the amazing 12 year old whose age says he should be a middle school student in my youth ministry, but whose life circumstances have forced him to grow up a lot faster to help provide for his family.

What do I do with that?  What does God call us to do with that?  I wish I had some profound blog post answer, but I don't.  And so tonight...I am doing my best to tell his story and to beg God to show me what my part I have in the greater story.

Our adopted youth group kid from a far...Nevin.