People Watching

 
As soon as the sun’s up, I’m up.

It’s kind of impossible for me to sleep in much later because the world starts moving outside of my tent; birds are chirping, dogs are barking, and old trucks are struggling up and down the mountain. Just a little rock wall separates us from one of Honduras’ major highways. I lay on my sleeping pad with my eyes closed thinking maybe I will go back to sleep, it's normally wishful thinking.
 
So around 5:30, I crawl out of my tent and stumble down the rocky ground towards the main house. The first thing I want is coffee. We no longer have a coffee maker so I turn the propane on, get clean water from a jug, strike a match to light the eye and boil water to make coffee over the stove.
 
I sip on my coffee while sitting in a green plastic chair as I do my devotional in the most silence there will be for the rest of the day. This is some of my favorite time when I am the only one up and get to enjoy a little bit of stillness with God. It’s also a good time to watch the Honduran world go by..
 
I am always captivated by the people and vehicles that speed past the property; tiny trucks over flowing with men heading to work or 30 little people with backpacks and lunches going to school. The kids pile out and run straight to our tire swing, giggling and squealing before its time for them to learn.Right before eight they will all disappear and shortly after I will hear their school bell ring. Horses casually grazing and wandering without riders and horses, guided by wrinkly men in cowboy hats, loaded up with material to sell down the mountain. There are always trucks creeping up the mountain obnoxiously blaring information over loud speakers; some are old and rusty filled with stacks of rotten bananas and men trying to sell them and others are sparkly and new driven by a man campaigning for a Honduran politician.

The cars that drive by do a pretty good job of explaining the Honduran economy, they are either right off the lot or on their last leg… it's one extreme or the other.

There are always a few people right outside our gate with 10 lempiras in hand waiting to hastily jump on a bright yellow school bus so they can go somewhere other than El Tizatillo.

And so by 9 o’clock the morning is over. 

The day truly begins as I am joined by other bleary eyed members of my team as they role out of their tents.  Each day takes me to a new place, a new group of people, a new adventure.  There is no telling where I will be each day. I never know where I am going, and after my craziest days I go to bed with the next morning on my mind.

My still quiet morning with only God and me, the one part of my day that never changes.