Today was hard. We got up this morning to go to the Mayan Ruins, which I’m sure are very impressive to architects everywhere, but not to me. These are in La Entrada and they’re not very popular, not very big, and really hot. But I had fun hanging out.
On the way back to the city we went to the Laurels. I hate the Laurels. I love the people of the Laurels and I love serving them, but I hate the Laurels. The Laurels are the worst area we visit on our trip. Approximately 12 “houses” are constructed along the side of highway with scrap metal and anything else the families can find. They have nothing. Living conditions are dangerous, unsanitary, and the image of an endless cycle. It was all I could do not to have a break down when we handed out supplies and even harder to maintain composure when I climbed back in the truck. I left them. But like I said earlier and Paul said it to me again today, poverty is relative. This life is all they know. I cannot decide whether or not they are happy. They have what they need, but my concept of need is different. God has promised to give his people what they need, and he provides here. He has provided me with material blessings, and he has moreover provided them with spiritual blessings.
My visit to La Entrada was a little better than last year. I just don’t find a lot there that isn’t for a typical Honduran. It’s like a massive street-Walmart, and equally deserving an internet montage to unfortunately dressed people. Like the rest of my American comrades, I spent quite a bit of time in the air-conditioned bakery, but we started to attract every beggar in the area. We gave them what we had, then went on.
We drove back to the farm and got ready for church, which was extraordinarily distracting. Distractions are endless in Honduran church services. Perhaps the ones in America just aren’t distracting enough. After church we went to get milkshakes and watch some shady dealings go down on the street corners.