The Mission of the Trip

"And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, "How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!" ~ Romans 10:15

I’m trying to see it all through her eyes.  My eyes were about the same age when I took my first international flight, a little older on my first international mission trip.  Probably just as wide. We are taking a quick flight from New Orleans to Panama to Honduras.  From there we will catch a bus that will take us to a little lakeside village near the coast.  Lloyds of London Insurers have reminded us that we are traveling to an incredibly dangerous neighborhood.  She told her Daddy that it was called a murder city.  He asked why I wanted to take her again? I asked, have you seen our local news recently?

I’m taking her because leaving my bubble at her age changed my life.  Of course, I learned important things about needs versus wants, what privilege looked like (even if I couldn’t name it as a preteen), and what true poverty is.  But the most important thing I learned as I climbed aboard plane after plane during my teen years was that really, we are all the same.  
Just people.  
Just people with hopes and fears.  
Just people with hopes and fears who need love.
Just people with hopes and fears who need the love of Jesus.
  I learned to pray, “break my heart for the things that break the heart of God.”  And I learned that sometimes that was the dire circumstances of a little girl in Africa or South America…and sometimes it was the selfishness of a little girl in Mississippi.  I want her to know how small this big, big world really is.

I’d give almost anything to see it all again the way she’s seeing it now.  Almost anything but this…seeing her see it all.  She’s already a better human than I am.  She has created a prayer journal for every person on the trip and she has taught all the adults all how to use a prayer journal.  She also taught them about scorpions native to our destination and they’ve all bought black lights to protect themselves at night.  She has prepared herself to lead among a group that is significantly older than she is, and to minister to children who don’t speak her language.  She has organized her notebook dutifully, chosen practical clothing, and kissed her Daddy one more time.

She handled international travel with all the grace and patience that I’ve come to expect from her.  She is currently passed out on the bus seat across the aisle, mouth open in deep sleep.  Her Daddy wants to know she’s safe about every four hours.  “I’ll get her home,” I assure him.  But I remember the first trip I took…I never made it home.  I mean, my person made it home safely.  But my heart…

I don’t want to superimpose that experience on her though.  I want her to encounter the Holy Spirit, to discover her own super-powers, to find that mystical and miraculous place where she ends and Jesus takes over...and I know from experience that this is the right time and place. 

She always enjoys the task of unpacking.  She has claimed the tiny single bed in our spacious boarding room.  I will probably have to hide the bug spray from her.  She asks me to braid her hair.  She asks me what to expect.  “Do you want to hang out with the kids your age, or rock the babies in the Butterfly House?”  I want to rock the babies!!

We are serving for 3 days at Mission on the Move in Honduras.  From their website: "In Honduras, our foundation is an after school program that focuses on the holistic development of the child. Your support provides all school costs (uniforms, books, fees, etc), a nutritious hot meal, clean drinking water, medical care, and dental care for each child. All of these things are tools to teach children the love of Jesus Christ. The program is basic discipleship for children that allows us to witness to their families as well.  We have a Gateway Home program for fostering children until they can be adopted by Honduran families. These homes provide all needs for children from formula to vaccinations until they go to their “forever families.” Our newest initiative is to provide homes for children who have been abandoned or surrendered. We have built a crisis care home for babies under the age of one and an apartment to serve as a Children’s Group Home for up to six children, including a special needs child.” 
There is one national couple on campus being trained as foster parents, cottages being built for more foster parents, and a cottage for babies.  The house for babies is called House of Butterflies, or Casa de Mariposas.  That’s where she lived for 3 days!

On our first day of work, I got smacked in the head with a ball and suffered a concussion.  I’m fine.  That’s a different post.  But I was literally like a chicken with my head cut off.  I had to keep remembering not to forget to remember to put my eyes on her.  See why that was hard?  She was in the butterfly house.  Or she had a baby on her hip walking through the meadows in the pretty valley of the mission campus.  She was perfectly at ease.  She helped us teach VBS, helped us play soccer games, helped us distribute clothes and shoes, and helped us play with neighborhood children.  And when it seemed like we weren’t asking her to do one more thing, she would make a beeline (or was it a butterfly line) to the babies. 

She spoke to the team the last night of thankfulness for being included, for being treated as an equal.  She spoke of the awareness that what she possesses is abundance compared to the children she played soccer with.  She spoke with gratitude and maturity that didn’t match her youth…only her spirit.  I asked her on the way home how she was feeling.  She said she missed the babies. 

I knew we had forgotten to pack her heart.

The work it takes for a mission family to host a team is really tremendous.  Imagine having overnight guests who are mostly strangers come hang out in your life for a week!  They are awkward, a little helpless, and sometimes a bit whiney.  They act like tourists with an agenda to make a difference…at best.  Many people argue that sending money is really a better effort than sending teams.  But as our hosts put it that week, you can’t hug a check.  
And you can’t help her see.

See the world, God’s world, God’s whole world, God’s whole world loved so much that God sent…Jesus…us…her.

Try a short term mission trip.  I know all the reasons why you don’t, but try one anyway.  Opportunities abound.  Regardless of what day, month, or year you read this blog, if you message me, I will be able to hook you up with a team leaving from somewhere and heading somewhere.

And check out Mission on the Move.  And if you decide to support the Casa Mariposas financially, tell ‘em Zoe sent ya.          

http://www.missiononthemove.org/honduras.html