Time Away From the Finca

A month full of planned and unplanned time away from the Finca, full of struggles and learning, and full of community and joy!

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Evacuation Time

I very clearly remember the moment I realized that if I moved to Honduras, I’d be trading worrying about tornados for worrying about hurricanes. Never in my life had I thought I’d ever be in a situation where I could potentially be harmed by one, and I still really didn’t believe it when I moved here—until I was in a car full of luggage, driving away from the Finca, evacuating because of an incoming hurricane.

On November 13th, we were told Hurricane Sara was potentially forming and heading toward Trujillo, so we might need to evacuate the next day. At the time, we were getting ready to go on a trip with the older kids to the city of Comayagua, which would be canceled if we had to evacuate.

The next day, I woke up early for my prayer and morning Laudes with the Finca, only to find out we definitely would be evacuating that day and needed to prepare. The other missionaries and I spent the morning closing the house, packing games and books, and prepping our own bags for evacuation. We all packed clothes under the assumption that we’d be back at the Finca within three days.

All packed for evacuation!

Once we were packed, we waited almost all day to be taken to the evacuation house – Casa Betania. This was a small retreat house owned by the Diocese of Trujillo, located inside the city. We evacuated here not because it was safer than the Finca, but because it was closer to the hospital. In case of an emergency, we wouldn’t need to cross the bridges between the Finca and Trujillo, which flood very easily.

From the very first evening, it was easy to tell our time there would be chaotic. Walking into the sala, hearing kids yelling, Tías scrambling for control, and rain pounding on the roof, I felt overwhelmed and lost, unsure of how to serve. There was an overwhelming number of ways to help and, simultaneously, nowhere to go.

Plenty of movies were watched during our evac

We quickly realized that the kids needed a schedule throughout the day; otherwise, there would be no peace. We put into place a silent hour after lunch, a rosary in the afternoon, and planned fun activities throughout the day. Even with this schedule, though, I burnt out quickly from the lack of space and quiet.

Learning how to struggle

The storm ended up turning away from Trujillo and struck the western side of the country. Trujillo and the Finca were incredibly lucky – several people died, and the infrastructure suffered incredible damage from Hurricane Sara. Many people and cities are still recovering.

We evacuated for Sara on a Thursday, the storm came that night, and we expected to leave by the following Sunday. However, over the weekend, we learned we’d be staying until Tuesday. The departure date was moved back several times for reasons I didn’t always agree with but tried to understand.

For all the reasons I mentioned above, our time in Casa Betania was a bizarre mixture of suffering and learning lessons. Despite not always being sad—I was actually happy a lot—I struggled so much to be joyful. Everything felt so far out of my control; I felt empty and far from the mission I wanted to be serving. Especially toward the end of our time in the house, I only had the energy to be what felt like a bad, half-present missionary—and even that drained me.

But the Lord also revealed Himself so clearly to me there. There were times I felt like a chunk of lead sitting in the room, unable to do anything. But then a kid would come to me with a need or want—a book they wanted me to read, toothpaste for their toothbrush, someone to walk them to the bathroom, or more people to play UNO with (I played enough UNO there to last a lifetime). And somehow, despite fully believing I couldn’t possibly give anymore, the Lord gave me the energy to serve, the capacity to be present, and even the joy that comes from giving of oneself to another, even in the smallest ways. It felt like the Lord was saying to me, “I am truly the One who can fill you. Turn to me, again and again.” Despite feeling totally lost and confused, there was His powerful whisper of hope.

I also felt myself grow closer to my missionary community. Nate made it a priority to check in at the end of each day and affirm the struggles we were experiencing. When it became clear we’d be staying in the house for a while, Nate also prioritized leaving the house each day as a missionary group to give us the peace and break we needed. I can’t even express how thankful I am to have a coordinator like Nate, who cares so much about our emotional and mental health.

Rachel and I shared in the struggle of being burnt-out and tired. Throughout that time, we were able to turn to each other and share. Having her sisterly presence there made living away from the Finca bearable, and it assured me that in any struggle I’ll experience here, I’ll always have someone to turn to. And it was incredible to see how Teddy could constantly be present to the kids—always playing, reading, or tickling someone—even on the toughest days. If any blessing came from our time there, it was the excitement to continue growing and sharing with this community over the next two years.

Joyful Times

But after every rainstorm(or tropical storm) comes a rainbow, and ours was so, so beautiful.

We got back to the Finca on a Monday. On Tuesday, I got sick and ended up lying around the house for two days. Then, on Thursday—Thanksgiving Day—the four missionaries cooked a gringo-traditional Thanksgiving meal for the whole Finca.

It. Was. Epic.

Teddy and Rachel enjoying the T-Day meal

We had our meal—complete with baked turkey, green bean casserole, apple and pumpkin pie, and more—and then did a turkey trot and traditional American football game with the kids. I still felt a little sick, so stuffing myself with Thanksgiving food and then running around the campo like crazy may not have been the best idea, but it was oh, so worth it.

The next Monday, we left with the kids in PAVI for their end-of-the-year trip. PAVI—Puente a Vida Independente—is a program at the Finca for kids older than 11 to help them develop skills useful for life after the Finca. For their trip, the kids wanted to go to the city of Comayagua—a city on the western side of the country. It’s a ten-hour drive from Trujillo. So, bright and early Monday morning, we crammed the Finca’s old Toyota Land Cruiser with eight kids, four missionaries, a Tía, the driver, and all our luggage strapped on top.

Comayagua was an incredible city—the central park was completely decorated with lights for Christmas, and there were vendors selling hot chocolate and delicious food. And it was cold. Not cold like Iowa cold, but windy and a bit chilly—enough to warrant a sweatshirt. I hadn’t realized how much I missed windy, cold weather until we were there. Each morning, I’d wake up in the retreat house we were staying in, sit outside on a bench to pray, and praise Jesus for the breeze blowing in my face.

The trip to Comayagua was especially great because it allowed the kids to experience Honduras outside of Trujillo. Since arriving at the Finca, this was probably the furthest any of them had been from the area.

I had thought, after evacuating to Casa Betania, that I would never want to leave again for an extended period of time—especially not with a group of kids I’d be with all day without a break. But our Father is a Redeemer, and He blessed me with so much joy during this trip. Throughout the week, I marveled at the beautiful opportunities I had to simply play with the kids, to be childlike with them.

That’s what Finca life is like, even when I’m not literally at the Finca—it’s playing like a little kid, giving in ways I didn’t know I could, being present even when I’m tired, taking space when I need it, and relentlessly relying on the love of the Lord.

When There Was Me and You

Also, the night we got back from Comayagua, a cat moved into our house. His name is B.C.—Bodega Cat. He’s only bitten me twice so far!