Week 9: This is the life

HOLA!!!!!

Where do I even START to begin??

Here.

Honduras.

Teaching real people.

Speaking real Spanish.

As I sit here writing, I can hardly believe that I haven't been here even a full week. Tonight will be my one week mark.

Incredible.

 

The journey from Guatemala to here went by without a hitch. Since it was really disinteresting, we'll start at getting to Honduras. Get off the plane, our nerves and excitement going crazy. I'll be honest, as the plane touched ground in Honduras, I felt sick. (not even because of the pilot, mind you). It was about that moment that I realized... "Wait.... this is actually happening. Like.... now." All those weeks, months pondering over this decision, then anxiously working on my papers, then waiting for June 20th to just COME..... well.... now the REAL day (not fake, not virtual day--the real one) was here, and in that moment of touching ground, I actually wrote in my journal, "This is THE scariest decision of my life. The most important. We are about to land (literally
---any second the plane will touch ground) and I am about to barf from nervousness. 'Bienvenidos a San Pedro Sula.' If those aren't the scariest words I've ever heard, I don't know what is. Talk about being too late to back out. :)"

 

little did I know the INNUMERABLE blessings waiting for me here.

 

President and Hermana Veirs met us at the airport, and they had roses for the hermanas--and the roses had our names, so "Hermana Francisco" on one of the petals. They are so amazing! Hermana Veirs is just the sweetest! Doesn't speak Spanish, loves to blog and cook and... ahhh just so sweet. I don't know if she knows what a blessing she is to new missionaries. Because I was scared. Scared they'd hate me/ judge me/ feel like I'm not good enough to be a missionary... Oh, amazing.

 

We went through training, proselyted with a sister missionary, and anxiously awaited the announcement of our trainers--our first companion. While in the home of President and Hermana Veirs, I started teaching one of the other new latina sisters a hymn on the piano. Now, recollect my skill at playing piano....... if you came up with nothing, that's correct! I have no skill. But, with those plunking-a-tune abilities, I taught her. Oh, so cute. When we went to our room, she traced her hand as well as a picture of the keyboard, and wrote in what order to play the notes. Oh, I just.... adore moments like that.

The mission reunion was HUGE--we have 250 or some-odd missionaries in this mission. HUGE. I saw them as giants, and us newbies as little to toddlers. They just LOOKED experienced. I LOOKED and FELT just as clueless. But, we newbies laughed nervously together about our inexperience.

When they announced my new trainer, the room went CRAZY. Everyone told me how amazing she is, and I know why! Hermana Nunez, (with a little treat treat on the second "n".) She's from Mexico, works SO hard, and this is only her third area. I guess that's rare to train so early.

 

Well, my prayers have all been answered in a way I can recognize immediately.... amazing companion, rural area (4 of us in our district), and amazing support from the ward. I feel spoiled with blessings. We are really in the boonies. Oh, it reminds me of Africa. Simply stunningly beau tiful. And, might I mention, stunningly SUFFOCATINGLY warm. We lit'rally sweat like animals. It's highly attractive, mind you. I almost... ummm..... yeah, almost cried when we walked into our humble abode. That description is highly accurate. Humble. Abode. Two rooms,  three if you count the broken door separating the bedroom from the room with the toliet and showerhead. Elders have lived in the same house for..... oh.... 15 years. (this area is new for sisters. Hence, we're "opening an area," meaning that both missionaries are new. First time to have sisters in 15 years. It's humbling to have high expectations, as well as so much support and automatic love.) Anyway, the casa. I've kind of realized that elders and sisters have differing standards of umm..... sanitation. Cleanliness. Hygiene. It has taken a couple days to "establish a house of order." Let's say that. :)

But now, we are in bliss. And today we get to wash our laundry, hand-style.

 

I've learned very quickly that this work cannot happen without the Lord. Upon arriving here Wednesday, there was a baptism for Saturday. We spent time with Hermana Berta, an elderly woman whose children have joined the Church, and who was preparing for her baptism. Hermana Nunez amazes me... so, Hermana Berta (investigator) had some very rough days before. Just doubts. Doubt after doubt after doubt. This 50/60/70 year old woman (I don't know her age) cried as she shared that she doesn't want to mock God by being baptized into the wrong church. That she doesn't want to lie to God. My heart... was just so touched. Do I live my life with the same sincerity? With the same "eye single to the Glory of God"? Even as a missionary, I feel I can always focus more, feel deeper, trust more. We offered a prayer together. Where she could ask God, the one with all knowledge, and one who will never lie, if this decision to be baptized is correct. When I hear the words "open your heart to God," I will forever be reminided of that humble prayer offered in a tiny, sweltering room. The pure sincerity in every word. That she was purifying her heart and her life to be baptized. That she only wanted to follow her Savior, and didn't want to lie to God. Through her prayer, I prayed that she would receive her answer. That angels would surround her and comfort her. My faith grew in that moment, realizing my dire weaknesses. Are MY prayers that sincere? Do I have concern of the same sort?

 

Oh, so MANY experiences! I never GOT it. When people served missions, I never UNDERSTOOD what that meant. I never understood the accompanying feelings, experiences, changes, growth, faith... No lie, missionary work is hard work. The minute I hit the bed (with my fan pointed directly at my face, mind you), I waste no time slipping into sleep. Language is challenging. What I thought I knew basically started over. Some moments my energy is in staying awake or stopping the flood of sweat. Or understanding what is going on. Those moments are miniscule compared to the joy of teaching about the Book of Mormon, and just seeing their eyes change. Seeing them have a yearning to read more, to know more. The work of the Lord is going forth boldly, nobly, and I am honored to be worthy to participate. My faith has been challenged. I have prayed more in one day that I probably did in one week before. Every moment is deliberate, thinking of where we need to be. Listening to be guided from on high. I love it.

 

I love you all.

Sister Cecilly Francisco