Wispy clouds sail past my window as I watch my home of three months fade away. Palm trees wave their gentle farewell while the shimmer of tropical summer reflects the heat along with all its side-affects that has kept me close company recently. Crazy traffic-crowded streets indicate a country where every driver is a law unto his own. Trash-covered roadsides, vibrant green mountains, people who have melted their way into my heart—it is all indelibly engraved upon memory’s hallways, paint still fresh. Shortly my mind is ensconced by cloud trails to match those outside. It's a mystery to me…
I walk at a brisk pace towards the immigration hall lugging my partially incapacitated suitcase behind me while endeavoring to maintain intestinal peace. My eaves dropping capabilities have majorly improved since I first encountered this airport in January. I laugh later as I bump into someone and catch myself automatically responding with perdón or permiso despite the fact I’m now surrounded by English speakers. Other curious habits cause me to smile. Has this language, this culture, really become so much a part of me in so short a time? My mind is still whirling. It's a mystery to me…
It’s my last flight. The flickering lights of city night-life hold me captivated. They always have. Soon the view out my window evolves into complete blackness. I try to see the stars while attempting to avoid the draft coming from the exit row window. I’ve never been known to sleep easily on planes, yet at least I have an empty seat beside me this time. I curl up as comfortably as possible, heavy eyelids descending slowly. True to history, sleep eludes me while once again the inner recesses of my brain step into high gear. It’s a mystery to me…
My eyes cast a bleary gaze around my room. I'm frozen, standing in tired delirium at the doorway despite the fact that it is two o'clock in the morning and I'm incredibly sleep deprived. This room, this house, this country. How could I have become so comfortable as to count them normal? It's a mystery to me…
This enigma, this mystery has fastened its iron-fisted grip upon my heart. And in the silence of quiet morning broken only by occasional flame crackles, I find an answer.
It’s not the poverty, the necessity or even the simplicity of life, it's the contentment.
These people accept their surroundings and day-to-day realities with a smile. They are satisfied to continue making tortillas and cultivating coffee on the mountainsides like their grandparents.
If perfect contentment to accept with joy every situation God places in my life can make even a full life simple, that is true living. I can still dream, but I am satisfied that where He has me right now is the absolutely most beautiful place in the world to be.
It is no mystery…
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| Fun at the river… |
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| Lettuce harvesting day! |
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| Lost… :) |
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| A weekend at the coast… |
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| A friend in the nearby little mountain village of Cero del Torro |
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Promoting lettuce in San Pedro Sula
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| Now these are lemons! |
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| Friday is craft day—my turn to teach… :) |
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| The verdant garden |
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| A caving adventure… |
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| Mi amigas en el restaurante! |
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| A first-time mom, younger than myself, who I was privileged to assist through labor and birth |
