she who hesitates...

Blogging is telling it like it is, the good, bad and the ugly. Even if it’s real ugly. Or embarrassing.

This is one of those times.

With the city traffic and unregulated Salvadoran driving, it was bound to happen somewhere, sometime, to someone. I just didn’t think it would happen to me.

On Saturday night I was in a car accident, in the middle of Los Proceres, a main highway into San Salvador. No one else was in the car with me. And it was my fault.

I was headed into town to have dinner at a friend’s house. I wasn’t late and wasn’t in a hurry, but traffic was heavy. I couldn't have been going more than 30-35 miles per hour. I wanted to change to the right lane. I glanced over my shoulder, thought I saw an opening, started to go, changed my mind, and that hesitation was my mistake.

CRASH.

For a split second I thought someone had hit me. But then I saw the truth staring me in the face through the windshield. The front bumper of my Santa Fe was snuggled up against the mangled backend of a tiny Toyota Tercel. And what’s even worse is I had pushed the Toyota into the back of a large SUV. It was a Tercel sandwich.

Shock, anger, guilt, humiliation, fear, embarrassment – I ran through a wide range of emotions that evening. I lost my ability to speak and comprehend Spanish, so thank God the men in the other vehicles spoke English. They were both very forgiving, very kind, telling me, “These things happen,” “You have insurance, so there’s no problem,” “Calm down, it’s okay,” “No one was hurt and it’s just a car,” “God is looking out for us.”

Nevertheless, I felt so careless and stupid. It was my fault. MY fault. How could I have let this happen? I think self-forgiveness is the most difficult kind.

And there we were, our wreck sitting in the middle lane of a busy highway. Traffic jams are annoyingly common in the city. However, this time I didn’t have to wonder what was backing up traffic because it was me. Do you know how it feels to have hundreds of people drive by you, staring at you, yelling at you, laughing at your misfortune while you wait seventy minutes for the insurance evaluator to arrive? To put it eloquently - IT SUCKS.

And then my nightmare was prolonged because the insurance evaluator said we had to call the police because he needed a police report. When I heard this, I died a little inside because:

       a) that meant we probably had to wait another hour until the police showed up, and

       b) an American driver’s license is only valid 90 days and I've been in the country over
          120 days.

It’s quite possible they could have arrested me, if they wanted to.

Maybe it was because I was crying. Or maybe because I had to have Rene and Gustavo, the men whose cars I’d rammed, translate for me. Or perhaps because the woman in the other SUV hugged me tightly and told me not to worry, that God was taking care of everything. Whatever it was, the police didn’t say anything about my lack of a Salvadoran driver’s license and they didn’t fine me or haul me to jail.**

Since that evening, I've done my fair share of lamenting and questioning God's motives: “Why me?”, “What have I done to deserve this?” or "If only I had..." (after all hindsight is 20/20). But no amount of thought or self-pity will change what happened. God has His reasons and I may never know what they are. I can’t continue to say “What if..?” or to beat myself up over it. It happened, I dealt with it, I survived, and gained more life experience. I am human and I make mistakes. I will learn from this mistake and will be careful not to repeat it.

I also have a lot to be thankful for. I am thankful no one was injured. I am thankful the Santa Fe is scarcely damaged (the front license plate is dented and the front bumper is slightly out of place). I am thankful the other drivers were so kind and forgiving. I am thankful they spoke English. I am thankful I wasn’t arrested. I am thankful we have car insurance. I am thankful for the support of my friend and her family, who consoled me, feed me and let me sleepover when I finally made it to their house at 9:15 p.m., almost three hours after the crash. I am thankful to be alive.

To be honest, October has been a strange and, with the exception of my trip to Copán, rather awful month. I am looking forward to a happier November.

**The day after the accident, I found out that in El Salvador, if anyone in an accident is bleeding, the driver responsible for the accident is arrested. So yes, it could have been worse. And I once again thank God no one was injured.

James 1:2-4 
Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18  
Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.

copán ruinas

On Friday, October 21st, after two false starts - once in August when illness derailed me and once the day before leaving when I arrived at the bus station only to learn the buses to Honduras were suspended due to hazardous road conditions - Rachel, wrapped in a hat and scarf to fend off the morning "chill", drove me to Puerto Bus, where I finally began my long-awaited journey to Copán.  

6:30 a.m.

Not only my first trip to Honduras, it was also my first time traveling solo in a foreign country, much to my mother’s dismay (when I told her of my plans, including the failed attempt to leave on Thursday, Mom’s actual words were “please tell me that you are not traveling alone”).

Yes, I am, but give me some credit. Since I'd be flying solo, I paid an arm and a leg to take the expensive, luxury, King Quality bus line instead of your dime-a-dozen, rag-tag, Central American chicken buses. I would, however, have to disembark before my bus’ final destination, and ride a chicken bus from La Entrada to Copán Ruinas. That was the part that made me nervous: finding the correct bus stop and bus in La Entrada.  

My worry was for naught; it was easier than I thought. After the King Quality bus left me in its dust, I found the nearest grocery store, asked the cashier where I might find a bus to Copán. He pointed to his right, explaining that the bus stop was less than a ten minute walk down the road, under an almond tree. I headed in that direction, and just to be certain, stopped in a furniture store a few hundred yards down the road, asking the same question. The clerk confirmed what I'd been told - just continue recto (straight).  

Upon finding the bus stop, an older gentleman graciously gave me his seat on the bench. I sat down next to a kind-looking woman in her fifties or sixties, holding a young child on her lap. The boy appeared to be about five or six years old. 

“Is this your grandson?” I asked. 

“No, it’s my son!” she exclaimed. 

Oops. That’s what I get for assuming. But she went on to say she has six children and two of them are married with kids of their own, so she is a grandmother.  

 

I also asked her how long the bus ride to Copán would be. 

“About an hour," which, I learned, in Honduran time actually means closer to two hours.

The ride to Copán was my second experience with a Central American public bus, which in this case was actually a twelve passenger van that acts like a thirty passenger van and stops every two minutes for everyone and anyone to get on and off. I was fortunate enough to sit in the very back, the most difficult seating to access, so I had a fairly comfortable ride with only two seat mates, one of whom was kind enough to put my overstuffed hikers' pack (borrowed from a friend) on the floor between his feet, so I didn’t have to hug it against my face the entire ride.  

After an exhausting eight-hour journey, the bus rounded the last curve in the road, and I saw my destination - the quaint mountain town of Copán Ruinas. I had finally made it.

 

Copán is one of the most beautiful towns I’ve seen, anywhere. Uneven, hilly, cobblestone streets; new world colonial architecture; bells tolling the hour in the Catholic church off the bustling town square. It reminded me of the picturesque pueblos I visited in Western Spain, and it is much cleaner and better-looking than San Salvador or our hometown, Planes de los Renderos. 

My friend, Alexa, teaches high school English at the Mayatan Bilingual School. She lives with three other American teachers and above two others in a complex of apartment houses. Her apartment is open, airy and has a breath-taking view of the mountainous countryside. 

 

Copán is definitely a tourist town, especially popular with backpackers. There are numerous souvenir shops, unique eateries, and attractions from horseback riding to zip lining to touring the ancient Mayan ruins after which the town is named. Here are the highlights of my trip: 

Ziplining

Baleadas

Macaw Mountain

Mayan Ruins

I was slightly nervous about the trip home because, even though I had called King Quality to confirm the bus would pick me up in La Entrada, I still had my doubts. It is Central America, after all. But, thankfully, everything went as planned. 

After biding Alexa farewell at 6:00 a.m. and catching another microbus, I arrived at the La Entrada bus stop, the Hotel San Carlos, a half hour early. Upon inquiring about the King Quality bus, the receptionist told me breakfast was included in my ticket price, so I was ushered into the dining room and had just enough time to eat before boarding for the six hour ride to San Salvador.  

It was exciting to visit a new country, comforting to see a familiar face, and rejuvenating to not work. But even better than spending time away is what awaited me upon returning to the Home Wednesday evening. 

Entering the house, I was once again amidst loud, boisterous children, full of a contagious energy that makes you happy to be alive. They smiled and hugged me, asking where I’d been and what I’d been doing. And I was surprised to realize that, after only six days, I had missed this place and the people in it more than I knew. Love & Hope is not just the place I am volunteering and working for a year - it’s much more. It has become the place I feel love and give love. The place where I can be myself. The place, and the people, I can count on. 

That evening, as I sat in the kitchen during dinner, surrounded by the kids talking, laughing, shouting, shoveling food into their mouths - the organized chaos that defines my life in El Salvador - I grinned broadly, happy to be, well, home.

'90s nostalgia

A little treat for everyone who grew up in the '90s. This is awesome.

matthew 25:35-40

This is a re-post from the Love and Hope Children's Home blog (with edits...I am nit-picky). It's about a week overdue, but better late than never.

Nine days of torrential rain has taken a daunting toll on Central America. In El Salvador alone, landslides and flooding have forced thousands to abandon their homes.

Last Tuesday and Wednesday, despite a steady drizzle, we took the older kids around our neighborhood, door-to-door, asking for donations of clothing and food for families in need. The generosity of our community was overwhelming, and the donations filled a good portion of our office.

Then on Thursday we distributed the donations to the Platanillo community.

The tropical storms also caused havoc at our Home. A very large sinkhole, originally caused by a broken septic pipe and exacerbated by the rain, formed in the backyard. We have already repaired the pipe, and in the next couple of days, a truck load of dirt will arrive to fill the hole.

Thankfully, the rain stopped about a week ago, but we would greatly appreciate if you would continue to pray for the safety and health of everyone throughout the country and all of Central America, as we recover from this natural disaster.

dance party

I think it's time...

to build an ark.

the wedding

Brittany and Sam wanted to do something special for the kids, so they planned an elaborate wedding and reception dinner. Even though it was Sam and Brittany's event, everyone pitched in: Sam cooked an amazing meal, the girls decorated, all the gringos and Gloria waited tables, and helped clean up when it was over. It's times like these, when we all work together, that brings joy to my heart and soul. I am reminded how blessed I am to a part of this unusual, but wonderful family.

All Dressed Up

The Ceremony

The bride and groom were kept secret until now.

The Groom

The Bride

Luis played the role of the pastor.

The Kiss

 

Dinner Is Served