God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to changes the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

I can't think of a time in my life when this prayer has been more accurate than right now.  Just two weeks ago, I was living life like normal, or at least what had become normal to me, living on the coast of northern Honduras with 28 children, 12 other missionaries, 7 tias and house parents, and 3 Franciscan sisters.  I was waking up to the sound of crashing waves and crowing roosters. I was eating rice and beans at every meal, washing my clothes by hand, walking across a soccer field to get to our fridge, and taking cold showers.  Life was good and I am confident that I was on the path that God had chosen for me.  That path, or so I thought, was to serve at the Finca until December 2018 or longer.

Just one of the chapels at Missioners of Christ.

But, you know what they say, we make plans, and God laughs.  He had something different in store for me.  On Tuesday, November 28th, shortly after presidential elections in Honduras, our community of missionaries loaded up into a van to go on a retreat in Comayagua, a city about nine hours away from Trujillo.  There we stayed in a very nice retreat center with the Missioners of Christ, had lots of time to pray and reflect, opportunity for daily holy hour(s) and mass, and the food was great I might add.

A few days later, we were informed that protests related to the elections were starting to happen, and that travel might not be safe, so we were instructed to stick around a couple more days.  Great, I thought, an extension on this retreat.  I could use some more prayer and reflection anyway.  From there, things escalated.  A curfew was put on the entire country from 6pm to 6am, roads were closed, toll booths were burned down, and protests, some peaceful and some not, broke out.  Honduras has historically had a pretty high crime rate, but never have they had a breakout like this.  This could be the beginning of a revolution, a dictatorship, a civil war.  No one really knows at this point.

On the roof of the retreat center, ready for morning prayer,
 looking over Comayagua.

I want to be clear that we never felt, nor were we ever, in danger.  The facility at Missioners of Christ, according to their director, is probably the safest building in all of Comayagua, and I'm sure she's right.  Within the tall, cement walls, there was a garden, a basketball court, a chapel, and lots of open space.  We were very safe and very well provided for.

But rather than be confined to this building during the turmoil that was happening outside those walls, we had to get ourselves somewhere.  The Missioners of Christ were already so generous to let us stay longer and took such good care of us, but we couldn't just stay put for an indefinite amount of time.  Between the closed roads, police checkpoints, and bigger protests in the works, travel back to Trujillo did not seem feasible, especially within the time frame we had due to the curfew.  So our only other option was to return to the states until things calm down.  Receiving that news, calling my parents at almost midnight Sunday night needing a plane ticket, realizing I didn't know the next time I would see the kids back at the Finca, was difficult.  It still is.

Two weeks ago, I thought I would be back at the Finca by now.  I thought our community would have piled into one of the cars, practically sitting on top of each other to make the journey into town for mass on Sunday.  I would be teaching science all morning during the weekdays, possibly afternoon at the beach swimming with kids in the ocean, or making sure my lesson plans were good to go for the week.  I would have been playing soccer with some of our girls.

Instead, I arrived at Will Rogers World Airport in Oklahoma City on Tuesday wearing chacos in freezing temperatures.  I got in the car with my dad and cried as I thought about the kids that I have come to love so much over the last two months.  I wonder what they are doing without winter school or their work program, both run by missionaries who aren't there.  I wonder what my soccer girls are doing without their coaches there.  I wonder if kids are frustrated that they still can't check out books from the library.  I wonder when I will get to go back.

I’m left with a lot of emotions.  Sadness that I haven’t seen the kids in much longer than anticipated.  Guilt that I am able to flee from a dangerous situation just because I have a passport that says United States of America.  Gratitude that I get to see family and friends unexpectedly.

Right now, the plan is still to go back, and I have hope that it will be soon after Christmas.  But all I can do right now is wait.  How appropriate in this season of advent that I anxiously wait for good news.  Until then, God is giving me lots of small joys.  One of them is the opportunity to go to North Carolina to meet my month-old niece, Sophia.  I can use this time to organize ideas about the coming school year at the Finca.  I can enjoy the holidays with family, including continuing the tradition of seeing the Nutcracker ballet with my dad like we have every year for the last 15+ years.

Never a dull moment with Casa Santa Teresita
(the name of the missionary house).

The biggest however is the opportunity to grow in faith.  The reason I became a missionary was to say yes to God’s plan for me.  When all this started happening, the first thing I though was, “Wow! I have absolutely no control over this situation.  My only option is to trust God, I have no choice.  How beautiful!”  That became harder to accept when the news got worse and worse, but that was the true test.  Even if I wasn’t exactly thrilled with God’s plan, even if there are really difficult parts (which there always will be) it is so out of our control. But, you know what?  That plan of His is so much better than we could ever imagine.

Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” And the angel departed from her.

Luke 1:38

If you feel compelled to help, there are a few ways to do so.  You can donate to the Finca, either generally or to my missionary fund.  I’m hoping to really improve the library so your money to my account would certainly go to good use.  The link to do that is on the side of my blog if you are reading from a desktop.  I am also willing to take back donations of pencils, books, tape, or any other small donation you might want to give.  Stay informed!  The state of affairs in Honduras is not getting much media coverage, so do your research.  What is happening in that country is big!  Lastly, pray! Pray for peace in the world and especially in the hearts of the citizens of Honduras, and for wisdom in the minds of their leaders and leaders all around the world.