Honduras - Day X

As I was writing my daily recaps, I was surprised at the amount of detail I could remember from each day. Our trip to Honduras had a huge impact on my life. I worked harder than I ever have, I was given responsibilities that I've never dealt with before, and I was forced to be more caring than I have ever been.

Though my writings were long-winded and detailed, I also forgot a few things that, at the time, seemed note-worthy. On our first night at the ranch, all of the girls screamed in unison after finding a huge moth outside their room. I heard them scream, but could tell it was not a fearful, "we need help" scream, so I stayed in bed. They then proceeded to lock themselves out of their room and had to wake us up to unlock their door. After our long day of travel, this was a minor blip in my memories of the day that was.

On Wednesday morning at the ranch, we all gathered around the cross for a quick devotional with the ranch staff. Then, on Wednesday night, after we had practiced singing "Light the Fire," I picked up my guitar bag without having zipped it securely. My guitar fell out and made the worst sound a guitar can make as it hit the solid concrete porch. My heart raced for five minutes afterwards, both in fear after the initial drop and in relief that, somehow, it wasn't damaged. With a long workday and a long night up taking care of Emily, neither of these moments stood out in my memory.

The moments like these were fun and scary and important at the time, but as the impact of our trip absorbed itself into my heart and soul, these inconsequential moments faded away. Yes, I still remembered numerous other details that probably didn't matter much either, but this is the nature of the human memory.

Since I've been home, I've had some kind of dream almost every night that I was back in Honduras. I might not have been in a familiar setting from our trip, but I knew I was in Honduras and I was always with at least one of our group. After these dreams, I wake up and it takes me several seconds to figure out where I am. My bedroom looks foreign as I wake up thinking I should be in my bed at the ranch.

I take these dreams as a sign that I'm holding onto our experience, that my body and mind refuses to let go of our eight day trip to a new land. I also see these dreams as a sign that I can not allow myself to revert to the life I lived before I made the trip. That's not to say I led a terrible life three weeks ago, but I now am able to see what is truly important in this world and what isn't.

Most of our group shared part of our stories in church today. I started the presentation by introducing the youth and adults and telling the congregation a brief summary of our trip. Several times, I emphasized how proud I was of the youth for the work they had done and the way they represented Second.

My heart has been heavy since we arrived back in Nashville. I miss spending my evenings sitting in a hammock and joking with my friends and my youth. I miss going to bed at the end of the day knowing that the work I did that day made a difference in the life of many people. I wonder what is my place in the field. I hope that I'm serving God to the best of my ability.

I'm not sure where my journey will go from here, but I do know that I will never again take the luxuries that this country offers for granted. I know that I will never again complain about having to work hard. And I know that youth ministry is my calling; it makes me go.