I left my heart in Honduras.

As our trip began, I intended to write something every night in a journal. My writings would be reflections from the day, the things I had seen, the emotions I felt, and the things the youth did that made me smile. But as our trip went on, I stopped writing. I stopped writing in the middle of a sentence on Monday evening. I was so tired. I was tired of writing, tired of trying to be poetic, and tired of trying to put our journey into a day-by-day log.

The first thing I wrote in my journal was, “The poverty here is awesome.” But less than two days later, my view of this new land, these new people, and, most important, my view of myself changed. I saw who I truly am and what I am truly capable of. I stopped seeing the poverty and started seeing the people.

I stopped seeing the poverty.

I wish this trip had helped me remember how to cry. There was so much that should have broken my heart, but the things that filled my heart made it too strong to break. Where I could have found sadness in the remote village of El Rodeo, I found joy and happiness. Where I could have felt guilty for the life I am so fortunate to have, I felt pride that I was able to help these people, if only for four short days.

I started seeing the people.

The people of El Rodeo, Olancho Dept., Honduras, Central America are awesome. They are beautiful, joyous, uplifting, funny, appreciative, caring, and loving. I was only with them for less than 25 hours and they made me feel like I could move mountains. They called me strong. They thanked me for my help. They laughed with me. They prayed with me. They filled me.

See the people.

The children in the village had smiles that melted your heart. The women in the village gave hugs that were real. The men in the village worked hard; they appreciated our hard work and showed it by asking to work with us.

The people.

I will never forget the moment that one of the men, Alex, interrupted me working on another project, put a shovel in the ground, looked me in the eye, and said, “I want to work with you. I like the way you work.” Moments like that give me confidence, strength, and faith in the people of this world. A man from Honduras, a man who makes less than $1200 a year, a man who works in the fields in the hot Central American sun (when he can find work) asked to work with me, a man from America, a man who makes more than 95% of the world, a man who sits behind a desk five days a week.

Or the moment when Carlos, Alex’s brother, and I worked together cutting rebar for his family’s new latrine we were building. The moment when I grabbed the bar close to the saw to make it easier for him to cut. The moment when I moved my gloved hand closer to the worn hacksaw to keep the rock that served as our work bench from shaking. The moment when we looked at each other and I gave him a trusting nod. The moment we became brothers.

Alex and Carlos are what I will always remember about my trip to Honduras. Working alongside these two brothers, mixing concrete with shovels in 500 lb. batches on the dirt, being careful to not waste an ounce as the slanted ground tried to steal our precious resources. Joking with these two brothers in two different languages, yet we somehow understood one another. Receiving gifts from these two brothers, who have very little to spare, to show their appreciation for the work I did.

I’ll remember our group leader Ali, a native Honduran who leads groups similar to ours throughout the year. Her passion and enthusiasm for her job is infectious. She cares about the people of Honduras. She cares about the people who come to help her people. Her smile and laugh will be in my mind forever. Ali is an angel.

I am so proud of the twelve youth that traveled with me and two of my best friends to Honduras last week. I am so proud of the work they did. I am so proud of their senses of humor. I am so proud of the way they represented our church. And I am so proud of them for being a family, for being my family.

I’ll remember how happy my youth were this week. I’ll remember how happy the other two adults and I would get when would hear the youth talk about their days. I’ll remember how bright they smiled when they saw me smile. I’ll remember how they supported one another through everything.

I’ll write more about our day-to-day accounts as the week continues and as I have more time to process the journey I have just arrived home from. But for now, these are the words I write. These are the words that matter. These are the people, the emotions, and the take-aways that have overwhelmed me.

Thank for you for all of the prayers and support this past week. I think I can safely speak for our entire group when I say that we had the time of our lives. God bless you all.

And thank you to David, Carolyn, Jesse, Anna, Bryan, Catherine, Annie, Merritt, Emily, Mackenzie, Isaac, Max, Tara, and David for our week in Honduras. You are all blessings.