Our Honduran Pets

When we lived in the States we never had a pet of any kind. I remember always wanting a dog, but we never bought one. I had friends who had animals but we never had any. It wasn't until Honduras when we had pets. We had many different types of pets, ranging from dogs to chickens.

                We first moved to Yamaranguila where the owners of the complex we lived on had two horses and a dog. The horses’ names were Blanca and Chino (White and Chinese), Blanca was white, big surprise. She was wilder than Chino, he was brown and we rode him a couple of times, we never rode Blanca though. The dog’s name was Flipper; he was a mutt of some kind, white with a brown spot around his eye and both his ears.

We then moved to Zambrano, leaving behind the animals we knew in Yamaranguila. Once in Zambrano, we were given our first dog, she was a puppy from our first friends in Zambrano. We named her Patita, “little paws.” She was very small, I think she was the runt of the litter; nonetheless we loved our little puppy. We only had her for a couple months and she started getting sick. One day we came back from church and she was dead, sleeping in her box home. We guessed she ate some garbage near our house and caught a parasite. We had tried giving her medicine for parasites but it hadn't worked. We cried and then my dad buried her in our back yard. During the time we had Patita, my dad bought around ten chickens from a farmer missionary friend, along with a rooster.

After Patita died we still had the chickens to lay eggs and later on for eating. We hated having

These aren't the chickens we had, but they are similar.

chickens, they were such disgusting creatures. We had chickens for most of the time we lived in Zambrano, we ate several of them along the way. My mom told my dad that she would not cook it or eat it if the chicken did not look like it does when she buys it from the grocery store. Every chicken that came in to be eaten looked just like it was store bought. Us three girls would help my dad kill the chickens and get them ready for mom, she would never watch. My dad would place the chicken’s head under a stick that was lying on the ground; he would then step on either side of the stick and take the chicken’s feet and pull upwards. This was the grossest part, as the head came off and the chicken would still somersault and move even when it was dead. The chickens that were alive were cannibals; they started pecking the dead chicken. It was absolutely disgusting. After the chickens were somewhat done eating their friend my dad would take out its insides. My dad would finally take the dead chicken and put it in boiling water for a second to allow the feathers to get wet so we could pull them off. It was finally put into a bag and brought inside to be frozen until my mom was going to cook it. I hated those chickens.

While we had chickens, my best friend had baby bunnies and gave two to me. They were so cute! I forgot what I had named them since I only had them for a little while. I let them out of their cage each day to eat the grass and there was a chain-link fence that goes into my neighbor’s yard that they could fit through. One day I went to put them back into their cage and I saw one of them over the fence, so I went to get him, I never found my other one. I cried for my little bunny had run away. I still let my other bunny out to eat the grass and as I went to find him, yet again over the fence, I only found his bottom half. The stupid cat from the neighborhood had eaten my bunny! I cried and even tried throwing rocks at the cat for killing my bunny. I then figured that the cat also ate my first bunny.

Angel

After my bunnies and still during the time we had chickens, a missionary gave us her dog. She was moving back to the States and couldn't take her dog, Angel, so she gave her to us. We loved Angel and we had her in Zambrano up to Santa Lucia, about four or five years.

While we had Angel my best friend gave me another bunny, this time full grown, named Snowball. I loved my fat bunny, plus he couldn't fit through the fence so I could let him out without worrying that he’d be eaten. I had him for almost a year, but he was getting old. Angel would chase Snowball all around the yard, playing with him. But as Snowball was getting older, he suddenly started biting Angel and Angel would bite him back. I was scared that Angel would kill Snowball! I was shocked that my bunny would bite my dog. Later on I realized he just wanted to die in peace, as he was old, but Angel wouldn't let him. We tied Angel up every time I let Snowball out so he wouldn't get hurt. One day I came to feed him and he had peacefully died in his sleep, I still cried and my dad buried him in the yard along with Patita.

We eventually ate or sold all our remaining chickens and the only pet we owned was Angel. When we moved to Santa Lucia we just had Angel. We tried once to have another dog with Angel.

Ginger

We got a Boxer puppy named Ginger but she was too much for our family and for Angel. So we gave her back to the family who gave her to us. This year though, Angel passed away. She had had a tumor on her stomach so we took her to the vet to have an operation. After the operation, she was never the same. She was slower, she could barely see, she was eating but not too much, and she seemed to be in pain. We took her to the vet again and he tried giving her medicine but she still didn't recover. Finally we decided that it was time to put her to sleep, she was in so much pain. My dad and I took her to the vet one afternoon and asked him to put her to sleep. The vet agreed with our decision, when he touched her to check where the tumor was, she yelped. He could barely touch her without her crying out in pain. It was hard to listen to, I cried. Soon it was quiet, our beloved Angel was gone. The vet came out and told us it was for the best, she was in so much pain it would have hurt her more to live any longer. We came home and buried her in the back yard, we all cried. We had Angel for four or five years and she was gone. A couple months later a friend said she had a Golden Retriever that she couldn't keep and was wondering if we could take her. We took her in, she was named Lady and we loved her. We still have Lady and we’ll probably have her for a long time to come.

In Honduras we've had several different types of pets. It’s harder to take care of animals in Honduras, there’s trash everywhere and going to a vet is not common or it’s really expensive. Even though we've had many pets, we tried our best to take care of them. Some of the deaths we couldn't prevent. I loved all of the pets we owned, except those stupid chickens!

Goodbye, until next time! 

My First Missions Trip

                I can still remember the first time I came to Honduras, it was in 2006. I went with my mom, dad, and my sister. The youngest two, my sister and brother, were left in Connecticut with some really close friends. We would only stay a week, but that one week would impact our lives.

               

This was the first time I flew in an airplane; at least that I could remember. I apparently flew in an airplane when I was two, but that doesn't count. We flew from Boston to Miami to Tegucigalpa. It took about a total of six hours. We were traveling with a missions team from my Grandpa’s church, him and my grandma came too. When we landed we got into a big bus and drove from Tegucigalpa to Danli, which was about two hours. It was so much fun on the bus because there weren't any seatbelts and my sister and I could walk back and forth. I remember there were some ladies who were scared of the sides of the mountains as we drove past as the road would have no railings so if you drove to the side too much, you would fall off the mountain. We stayed in a hotel called Grande Hotel Granada, or something like that, in room 133.

                We went everyday to Eternity’s Call Church in Danli, it was where we were working. The first thing we did was paint the church and we did some outdoor construction. My sister and I mainly played with the kids though; we shared our gringo toys with the Honduran children. One day my dad had a teacher conference for the Hondurans but since he couldn't speak Spanish he had a translator. During that day my sister and I either stayed at the hotel or we went to the church and played with the kids, I don’t really remember. Another day we had a medical brigade, my sister and I talked with the kids and helped the adults with whatever they needed. During the medical brigade, we were also able to preach the gospel. One of the men on the team brought bubbles and was playing with the kids outside. During the medical brigade I was moving the metal fan in the front of the church as it was super hot, my mom told me to stop touching the fan, but I had to touch it one more time. That time, my middle finger slipped inside and the fan cut my finger. That was the one bad thing about that day. The next day we had a VBS (Vacation Bible School), we had music, games, a puppet show, and crafts for the kids. We had a blast. Another day we helped put barbed wire around the new garden, we helped build the stage, and we shoveled dirt to fill holes. One of my favorite parts of the trip was learning and then playing Honduran hand games, they were so much fun. The girls were really nice to us, even if we didn't know what they were saying!

                The hardest part about the trip was going to the Danli garbage dump. We went to the dump because people lived there. There were houses lined up along the dirt road and then the garbage was dumped at the top of the hill. It smelled terrible, there were donkeys and vultures in the garbage, there were even people in the garbage looking for something worth something to possibly sell. We handed out toys and candy for the kids, we gave the gospel message, and we prayed with people. There were donkeys on the road used to carry wood. The houses were made out of miscellaneous items or basically whatever the people found. One house was made out of crates, the ones used to carry or hold sodas. The only cool part of that day was riding in the bed of a truck as there are neither seatbelt laws nor laws against riding in the bed. One day we went to the cigar factory to see how it worked, it was stuffy and smelled like tobacco, but it was interesting. We also went to the Danli market one day which was cool to see. Then on the last day we went to a special restaurant with the pastor of the church we were helping out. It was a fun time and the food was really good. Then we had to drive back to the airport to catch our plane back home. We got some fast food from across the street, we had only had Honduran food the whole time, it was great food but we missed “American” food.

                That trip was a blast, I was happy to come home though. Little did I know that my parents were thinking of making a permanent move to Honduras. In January of 2008, we moved to Honduras. We flew into Tegucigalpa and both my sister and I were showing our other siblings what we saw the first time we arrived in this country. That missions trip was much bigger than I could have ever imagined, it meant my home in the States would change and Honduras would be my home. As a nine or ten year old, I never would have thought of a missions trip leading to a life changing event. What would have happened had we never went on that missions trip?  

Goodbye, until next time! 

Honduran Food

Honduran food is not Spanish food. It isn't Mexican food. It’s Honduran food. There’s no other way to describe it, it’s just Honduran. It’s deliciously perfect and I love it. The food happens to be one of Honduras’ high points, one of its best features. I can’t remember the first time I tried Honduran food, all I know was that it was in Danlí and it was some kind of meat with ensalada (salad) on the side or rice and banana soda or something like that. I also remember that it was very good.

               

One of my favorite Honduran foods now is Pupusas, corn tortilla mix with a small circle of cheese pressed in the middle, then flattened to look like a tortilla and then it is fried on the open stove. It is pure deliciousness. There are pupusas with meat in it too, but the cheese ones are the best. I also found out that pupusas are originally from El Salvador but nonetheless, they are made in Honduras and they are very good. They are also served with three types of ensaladas or toppings, I’m not positive what is in them, I do know one has cabbage and another has onions. Either way they are good to put on top of the pupusa but pupusas are just as good plain.

                One Honduran classic is Baleadas, flour tortilla with beans, cheese, and sour cream. You can also have eggs, chorizo (sausage), avocado, chile (hot sauce), or fried plantains. I like the simple one the best but adding other ingredients is also quite good. I have not met a Honduran who does not love Baleadas, they’re just that good and easy to make. The best Baleadas are when the flour tortillas are homemade rather than store bought.

                Another Honduran food is mango verde, which is green mango. This is something I love but my dad hates, I can’t see why. It is green mango, a specific type of mango that stays small and turns yellow eventually but it is better when it is green. You have the green mango and you put vinegar, especias (mixed spices including salt, pepper, and many others), and salsa negra (Worchester sauce) on the mango and you eat it like that. Some put lemon, chile (hot sauce), or even chicken bouillon cubes, but I like the other three things only. It does not sound healthy and it probably isn't in any way but it is very easy to make and it is very tasty.

               

I could go on and on describing more Honduran foods, but it’s making me hungry so I must stop! Honduran food is very good and I haven’t met someone who hasn't liked it. Whoever doesn't like Honduran food is crazy. Next time you think Honduran food is Mexican or Spanish, think again, it is distinct and unique. Even though Central American countries share some foods, each country has a twist to the way it is prepared. I love Honduras; one of the reasons why I do is because of the food!

The Perfect Future

                It’s funny how when you’re little you think you have all your life planned out and perfect. I know when I was little, like five or six years old, I knew exactly what I would be and what I would do when I ‘grew up’. I said that when I became a teenager I would be a famous singer and I would stay a singer until my twenties, then I would get married and have kids and thus stop being a singer. It was a perfect plan. I thought this all the way until I was ten. Then we moved and I realized that my perfect plan was going to have to change.

               

Now I realize that being a famous singer is a whole lot of work and determination, it isn't purely talent. I realize that I have to meet the man who’ll be my husband, he doesn't grow on a tree (I didn't think that when I was younger, don’t worry!), and I may or may not have kids right away after I’m marry. I realized that perfect plans aren't always so perfect. In my mind, my future was set and planned and perfect but it wasn't my actual future. God had my real future planned out. He knew I would move to another country and He would then plan every day for me, so I wouldn't have to worry. He knows where I’m going to go for college and who I’ll marry and what job I’ll get. He has the ultimate perfect plan.

                I think every person hates to not know what is going on or to not know what is planned. It’s hard sometimes to think of someone else planning everything for me and knowing everything that will happen. I don’t like to not have control and to not be able to plan. Yet I must give it up. God knows what is best for me, whether I know it or not at the time of an event that I like or dislike. So when I think of Him having an ultimate perfect plan for me, I get scared that it isn't what I want. Am I serious? Am I actually going to question His perfect plan for me? I shouldn't and I try not to but sometimes I wonder what my future will be and what is going to happen. If this boy doesn't like me now, is there someone better? Can there be someone better for me than him? If I don’t get accepted to this college will I choose the second one? What if I don’t get accepted to any? How am I going to leave my family? How am I going to afford visiting them? These are just some general questions that I may ask myself, wondering if this perfect plan of His is really perfect. It sounds silly to question the God of all Creation, but I’m curious and a little scared of the unknown. I think most of us are and we shouldn't be. He’s God. He obviously knows what is best and therefore won’t ‘mess up,’ I mean, he formed us and knew us before our own mothers did.

                I tend to take things into my own hands, trying to rule my future, and then I mess something up. I should just let God take control and hand it all to Him. I really hate when I don’t. I end up sad and disappointed when I try to do things my way. Why can’t I just let Him do it? He’s offering to take the worry about tomorrow away, so why do I want to keep it? I honestly don’t know why, I don’t have the answer. I just want to know what’s going to happen and I want to know that all those above questions, for example, will have set answers.  But I don’t know and I may never know. But, although it sounds cheesy, don’t worry.  I may not have my whole life figured out, but Someone does. I should feel safe knowing that and only that. Even if it’s hard to let Him take care of my future I must stop trying to control it, it doesn't work. I've probably said this a hundred times, but God I’m handing you the control. And you know, I’ll probably say this another hundred times, but it’s okay, God will always be there waiting for me to say it.

                Goodbye, until next time!

The Hardest Part of Being an MK

I think the hardest part of being an MK is not fitting in. It is hard not to fit in in general but when you’re an MK you can’t even try to fit in it seems. Already I don’t fit in in the country I am currently living in: Honduras. I’m white, I have blue eyes and blondish hair, and I act “gringa.” I can’t fit in; I’m constantly stared at because I’m different. I’m constantly singled out because I walk differently than any Honduran. There is no chance of me fitting in here! I don’t fit in in the country I was born: the United States. I may look like an American but I think differently now, I act a tiny bit ‘off’ compared to the average American teenager. I dress differently; when I walk around and see girls wearing make-up all the time to look 17 when the kids are like 10 or I see girls wearing shorts that are so short they’re now underwear or shirts that are basically bras, I definitely don’t fit in. I go back to my native country and people are constantly on their phones, barely looking up, I don’t fit in. I may look like them but I’m way different. At my school I don’t fit in, I’m one of the ones who doesn’t party and get drunk on the weekends, I go to church on Sundays, I’m not going to have sex until I’m married, I’m not a total oddball and my friends love me (at least I hope so). School is one of the places where I fit in the most though, I don’t have to pretend to be someone else, they don’t care that I’m from the USA and they accept me and my beliefs. But still some days, when a person will come over to invite two of my closest friends and my best friend to a party and look right over me, knowing I’ll say no and be ‘no fun,’ it kind of hurts to not fit in. I think the hardest one is when I don’t fit in even with other MKs. This one hurts the most because here are people like me, experiencing similar things and even then I don’t fit in. We went to a missionary retreat that occurs every year and I was so happy to see some of the friends I made the year before, when I arrived there were some new MKs and I was excited to meet some new people. However, that’s not what happened, the new people all knew each other and had inside jokes and didn’t include me or my sister. I’m shy but I pushed myself to go and ask to play cards with them and when we started it wasn’t too fun because there were too many people so it trickled to a stop. When they stopped, they started telling stories they all knew and I hated being the outsider so I got up and left. I didn’t like not fitting in so I went to find someone else to hang out with. I was

very disappointed as I thought this retreat was going to be fun and I was going to spend my time with the cool MKs I met the year before, but that didn't happen. I hated that time, I’m used to not fitting in in Honduras, in the States, and sometimes at school, but this was the first time I didn’t fit in with other MKs. I love being an MK and wouldn't trade it for the world, but a challenge of being an MK is not fitting in. I thank God for giving me the strength to deal with this challenge and I thank Him for being there with me through it all.

Goodbye, until next time!

Thankful for Friends

This morning as I spent my daily time with God, I found myself thanking him for all of the wonderful friends that he has placed in my life. When I usually pray, I’ll ask for some things and thank him for some things. I want to make sure I’m thanking Him just as much as I’m asking things of Him. But today I thanked Him for the friends that are physically still in Honduras and then for those that have moved away. I don’t usually thank Him for all the friends he’s placed in my life. I usually thank Him for the friends that have stayed in Honduras, not the friends that have moved away too. I just noticed that I was actually happy to have so many great friends, whether they are still in country or far away. It was nice to be happy and thankful about this.

I had always complained about friends leaving me. I had always cried out to God asking Him how He could have them get close to me and then move away. I hate goodbyes and saying goodbye to the closest of friends is quite difficult. I've had seven of my closest friends move away. I could also count the day I moved to Honduras and left my closest friend behind as number eight but I think it’s harder for the people left behind than the people who leave. It’s so much more painful when you have to stay as the people you love leave, and so that’s why I say seven. But, back to the point, I would ask God over and over again why He would let those people leave. I never understood why He let them go. I definitely cried over several of these people’s departures, not sure when I would see them again or even if I would see them again. That kind of realization hurts. What person would want someone you love to leave without any certainty of meeting them again? So I repeatedly wondered why God would allow this to happen to me, especially when I so desperately wanted and needed close friends.

I feel really foolish for this constant wondering why these people left, mainly because all of these people are still in my life and I am still in contact with them. I also feel foolish because I was so hooked on focusing on the people leaving that I missed the people that have stayed or the new friends I have made as the others moved away. I was sad that my closest friends left so I didn't see all the amazing friends I currently have in Honduras nor the fact that I’m still in contact with the people who've left. I’m not speaking to all seven every day nor every month but I’ll say hello and ask questions about how they’re doing every once and a while. I speak to some more than others but it isn't mandatory to talk to them every moment of every day. I’ll see pictures and statuses about their lives and I’m happy that I get to see that. I've seen most of them after they left and there isn't any awkwardness, everything is great. For some, I’m not as close to them as I was when they still lived in Honduras but the ones that I consider best friends, I’m still close to.

I can’t believe I questioned God’s plan. I mean people do it all the time; we question everything God is doing as if He’s against us. Which, when it’s phrased like that, sounds silly. I question things that God is doing instead of just laying back and allowing Him to take charge and then follow His lead. And when I say I’m letting Him take control, I tend to hold on a bit to the thing I say I’m letting go of. Why? I guess it’s just hard to think of someone taking full control and to trust that person wholeheartedly. But He isn't just someone, He is the Someone. So no matter how many people move away, whether I stay close to them or not, I shouldn't question His planning. Instead I should be thankful for all the people who are here in Honduras with me and then be thankful for all the friends who have moved away and who've still stayed friends with me. Yes it’s sad to have people move but that shouldn't be the reason why I don’t trust that He has it all worked out. There shouldn't be any reason why I wouldn't trust Him. I should just trust Him. He made me, loves me, takes care of me, planned my life for me, and watches over me. I love Him and want to follow Him to the best of my ability, wholeheartedly. Love and trust go hand in hand, so if I love Him then I must trust Him too. So from this day forward I will trust God with anything and everything that comes my way. It’ll be hard but nonetheless I will try my best to trust Him in all that I do.

Goodbye, until next time!

The West Coast Adventure

I went to the West Coast for the first and only (at least for now) time in the summer of 2012. I woke up at around 4 a.m. with my sister and parents and we drove to the Connecticut Bradley International Airport. That day was the first time I would fly without adult supervision. It would just be my sister and I. I was in charge of getting her and myself all the way to San Francisco, California. I went thinking that an adult would assist us along the way, but because I was 15, I was too old to attain assistance even if my sister was only 13. So we set off for the beginning of an adventure. We flew to the Chicago airport where we changed planes to arrive in the San Francisco airport where we would be picked up by strangers who were our host family for our week in California.

The whole reason we were flying to California was for an international choir competition called the Golden Gate International Children’s Choral Festival. We were the first Latin American country asked to this competition, the first time a Honduran choir was asked to an international competition, and the first time our Discovery Choir was asked to something this big. It was a huge deal for us as a choir; it was also an amazing opportunity. It would be a week-long competition where our choir would compete against several other countries’ choirs and where our soloists would also compete against other countries’ soloists. After the competitions, all the choirs would sing a couple songs as one whole choir, all 300 kids or so, at the Zellerbach Hall. The three best choirs would then perform that night along with the three best soloists. It was an extraordinary experience.

My sister and I arrive in San Francisco and are picked up by a couple who will be our host family. They were really nice; they took us on a little tour of San Francisco, showing us several amazing spots in the city, we then went to Berkeley where the competition would actually be taking place and where the couple lived. In Berkeley, they also gave a mini tour of the town; it was a nice entry into California. We spent the night there and the next day we went to meet the rest of our choir (since they flew directly from Honduras) and then went to the buildings where we would spend most of time preparing and competing. That night we had one of our choir members join us at our host house, he stayed for the night and then went to stay with his mom. That day we asked if we could also leave because we felt uncomfortable at out host’s house, they were really nice it was just odd. We were then moved to be with one of my closest friends and her mom and sisters. We remained with them for the rest of the time we spent in San Francisco. My sister and I had a blast with them, we went shopping in San Francisco, we stayed up until 10 spitting milk and getting ice cream wasted, laughing until our sides hurt, we drove packed into a small car to and from the place we stayed to the buildings where we competed. I had a blast that week!

Our choir sang and competed using typical Honduran songs, dresses, and even a dance. It was a lot of fun. We ended up with a bronze placing in two categories at the festival. For our first international competition it was an amazing accomplishment. I happened to represent Discovery as a soloist along with two other close friends. I sang Ave Maria by Franz Schubert in Latin and Luna Llena by Guillermo Anderson in Spanish and bit in Garifuna. I won a bronze placing which was absolutely incredible; one of the judges came to me afterwards telling me how much she liked Luna Llena, which happened to be my favorite song to sing. I was very happy and proud. I was the only one from Discovery to place in the soloists. I was shocked since I thought my friends were really good and even better than I was. They did great and I’m proud of them, they didn't have to place to prove how well they sang. The ending concert was amazing, we sang 4 or 5 songs with all of the choirs together and it was so much fun.

Besides singing we also went on a cruise in the San Francisco Bay with all the choirs, we got to meet a lot of people from around the world, which was so cool. It was freezing on that boat! I was with my friends on the deck where the cold wind was blowing hard on us. We went around Alcatraz and under the Golden Gate Bridge. It was a really cool experience. We also were able to bond closer together as a choir and I was able to get closer to my close friend who we were staying with. We were able to talk with the other choirs on breaks and were able to meet some pretty amazing musicians. After the final concert, there was a dance, where we spent a fair amount of time dancing all together and talking and just having a great time. That night though, my friend was flying out to Los Angeles and so my sister and I stayed with another choir family until the next day where we flew back to Connecticut, the same way we came, stopping in Chicago. I was happy to be somewhat home with the rest of my family. We finished the rest of our vacation in the USA and then flew back to Honduras, this time all together.

I will never forget San Francisco, it was an amazing trip. I liked experiencing how it was to fly alone and to be so far from family, maybe it will help when I go off to college. I liked spending a week in California without my parents but I was relieved when I was safe under my parents’ wings. I had an amazing

experience, which I've probably said a thousand times, but it’s true, I truly did have an awesome experience and I’ll never forget it. I’m proud of myself and my friends. I’m proud of the choir and my school. I’m proud of Honduras and who we represented. I am very lucky to have had this opportunity. I thank God for allowing little me to place among 100 other contestants, and for allowing me to even fly to San Francisco in the first place. I thank God for keeping my sister and me safe along with the rest of our choir. I thank God for such a wonderful competition that he allowed us to participate in. It was awesome!

Goodbye, until next time!