Wow, an update is much overdue!
I could spend pages and pages of how much my life has come full circle, but for now I will settle for a few paragraphs...
First, I am no longer working for Nikki Beach. In true Courtney fashion I quit my job with a huge dramatic display of emotion (found out my boss hires prostitutes everytime he visits the island from Miami, and not only promotes the huge problem of child prostitution that we have here, but also cheats on his fantastic wife). Needless to say, I am fairly certain I am no longer allowed on the property....
As is my relationship with God, when He wants to show me the light, He usually does it by first punching me in the face. Seems that is the only way that I recieve any messages, haha.
The very next day I started my work with Project Honduras. It is a non-profit organization that was thought up by a brilliant man named Joe Summers. Joe left his life in the States, sold everything he had and decided to invest all of his money into Project Honduras. He came to Roatan, and saw the immense amount of children living in extreme poverty and decided to do something about it (my kind of guy :)) . He hired on both myself and Rev. Bob to help him start the Project and we are now all working together in hopes that we will be up and running by October. The website is still a work in progress, but is http://www.hondomission.com/. Please click on and check it out!!!
More updates on the Project to come....
I took a trip to the mainland a couple of weekends ago, and as I was riding along through the mountains of jungle and valleys of tiny little villages, I realized the true depth of love and devotion that I have for this country. Honduras is not just land and water to me, it is the beat of my heart, the blood flowing in my veins, the song in my soul. Honduras is just as much a part of me as the air that I breath. My heart swells to more than I can handle with love for even the most horrendous part of the reality of this country.
We pass by a landfill where children are filling up empty bags with whatever food they can salvage. Houses made of nothing more than clay and a few sticks. Babies drinking coca-cola, because it is the only thing that is sterile. And I know that I would give everything in my being to take this country into my arms and fix every problem.
But the Lord has offered me a channel for all of this emotion in Project Honduras.
As I left the mainland and flew back to the Island, I realized that faith is much like flying. When you are on the ground, the trees and rivers and houses seem to be sparadic. Following no consistent pattern. But when you are looking at it all from above, you truly see the pattern in it all. Every single tree serves a purpose in the blueprint of the land.
And as we all stumble around on the Earth below, we can be rest assured that there is someone so much bigger than you or I that can see the layout of it all.
It is because of that assurance that my heart is finally at peace.
I am truly opening my ears and taking up my cross.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
The Pressure that is her 1st Birthday Party
Sooo the Party didn't go as planned (as things that are planned rarely do), the Iguana Stew didn't show up and the Birthday Cake was MIA. But us Lenox's are known to pull something from nothing, and two hours later we had enough rice, chicken, and fruit to feed the whole community.
And interestingly enough, we actually did feed the whole community.
Not a single adult that I invited showed up.
Instead the people that came out to celebrate Danika's life with us were the Spanish street kids that I so often times wished in my head would just leave us alone.
They would come around every day asking to hold Danika and follow us around so close they would actually step on my heels. They would wait for my car to come around the corner after work everyday and chase it yelling , "Do-nika, Do-nika!!!" Their lives began and ended with their friend "Do-Nika". And Ms. Do-Nika loved them right back. Not sure if it was the actual kids' she loved, or the fact that she was ALWAYS the center of attention with them, but laughter knows no language, and friendship knows no culture, and theirs was a beautiful one.
Often times before they left they would ask for a simple drink of water from our water jug, and it would painfully remind me that clean water is a luxury item promised to no one down here.
There were times that I would look at their dirty clothes that had been worn for weeks in a row, and their dirty faces and hands, and make an excuse why they couldn't hold Danika. As if her clean clothes were too important for their dirty hands.
A pang of guilt washes over me as I watch them laughing and blowing bubbles at her Birthday in the very best dresses they could find. Clean face, clean hands, clean clothes. I think of them staying up all night scrubbing their church dresses until they were spotless, and my heart loves them so much more than I can even handle.
I pass out purple yarn for everyone to wear on their wrists as a symbol of love and support for Danika. They move their arms very carefully as to not break the yarn bracelet, and I know that months and months from now they will still faithfully be wearing her friendship bracelet.
They write on her posterboard words of love and friendship, and I know that they mean every single word.
They are honest. They are sincere. They are grateful. They are more perfect than any adult I have met thus far.
I watch my mom bring out more rice and chicken as the kids eagerly wait their turn to fill their plates. She tries to converse with them in the best way she knows how, hand gestures. I tell her that they don't understand her when she speaks English to them, but she tries anyhow. I can see her struggle with the language barrier, but her smiles and kind words don't need translation, they are understood perfectly.
Life works out perfectly, it always does. And there was no better way to spend my daughter's 1st Birthday.
Thank you God for this life that you have blessed me with.
And interestingly enough, we actually did feed the whole community.
Not a single adult that I invited showed up.
Instead the people that came out to celebrate Danika's life with us were the Spanish street kids that I so often times wished in my head would just leave us alone.
They would come around every day asking to hold Danika and follow us around so close they would actually step on my heels. They would wait for my car to come around the corner after work everyday and chase it yelling , "Do-nika, Do-nika!!!" Their lives began and ended with their friend "Do-Nika". And Ms. Do-Nika loved them right back. Not sure if it was the actual kids' she loved, or the fact that she was ALWAYS the center of attention with them, but laughter knows no language, and friendship knows no culture, and theirs was a beautiful one.
Often times before they left they would ask for a simple drink of water from our water jug, and it would painfully remind me that clean water is a luxury item promised to no one down here.
There were times that I would look at their dirty clothes that had been worn for weeks in a row, and their dirty faces and hands, and make an excuse why they couldn't hold Danika. As if her clean clothes were too important for their dirty hands.
A pang of guilt washes over me as I watch them laughing and blowing bubbles at her Birthday in the very best dresses they could find. Clean face, clean hands, clean clothes. I think of them staying up all night scrubbing their church dresses until they were spotless, and my heart loves them so much more than I can even handle.
I pass out purple yarn for everyone to wear on their wrists as a symbol of love and support for Danika. They move their arms very carefully as to not break the yarn bracelet, and I know that months and months from now they will still faithfully be wearing her friendship bracelet.
They write on her posterboard words of love and friendship, and I know that they mean every single word.
They are honest. They are sincere. They are grateful. They are more perfect than any adult I have met thus far.
I watch my mom bring out more rice and chicken as the kids eagerly wait their turn to fill their plates. She tries to converse with them in the best way she knows how, hand gestures. I tell her that they don't understand her when she speaks English to them, but she tries anyhow. I can see her struggle with the language barrier, but her smiles and kind words don't need translation, they are understood perfectly.
Life works out perfectly, it always does. And there was no better way to spend my daughter's 1st Birthday.
Thank you God for this life that you have blessed me with.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Birthday Wishes
Just a quick note to everyone who sent Danika Birthday Wishes, THANK YOU!!!
Trust me, they made there way all the way over here and it was a fantastic birthday!! (Will tell all about it tomorrow I swear)
To Wendy and Grandma and Grandpa Lenox, thank you for taking the time to acknowledge the birth of my daughter. Although it might not always be expressed, Family does mean a lot to me, and even more to my daughter, so although I had hoped there would have been more than just two cards or emails from her entire family, I'm sure good thoughts were sent by the rest.
Love you all!!!
Trust me, they made there way all the way over here and it was a fantastic birthday!! (Will tell all about it tomorrow I swear)
To Wendy and Grandma and Grandpa Lenox, thank you for taking the time to acknowledge the birth of my daughter. Although it might not always be expressed, Family does mean a lot to me, and even more to my daughter, so although I had hoped there would have been more than just two cards or emails from her entire family, I'm sure good thoughts were sent by the rest.
Love you all!!!
Friday, July 18, 2008
Love Letter to My Daughter on Her 1st Birthday
Danika Rain~
Our journey together began just one short year ago. It is amazing to me that we have known each other for only 625 days, yet I feel you have been etched in my heart for all my life.
You have become as natural to me as the air that I breathe, the beat of my heart, the blink of my eye. You are my weakness and my strength. My tears and my laughter. The end of one chapter, and the beginning of another. One we will write together. Our tears and our laughter will splash on the pages of our journey, our story will be written with victories and with hardships. Both will taste sweeter and be cushioned lighter as we brave the storm in each other’s arms.
You have taught me more than I ever thought humanly possible. A tiny little Buddha trapped in such a small body. For 23 years I have searched for something that I had no idea how to find. And in one short year you have shown me through your not always quiet wisdom, what true love feels like.
After 23 years of restlessness, my heart is at peace.
And although I am supposed to be the protector and the provider, you my love, have been both for our small yet completely perfect little family we have created together. You have protected my heart with your stubby little fingers, promising to never let anything happen to it that we can’t mend together. And you have provided us with more laughter and insight into this world than all the visas stamped in our passports combined. And every brief glimpse that you allow me to see the world through your eyes, is a glimpse into what heaven truly must look like. For you hold no anger, no negativity, no ill will, for anything. You look at everything around you, including me, with the perfect love that God has wished for us all.
We have created quite the indestructable tribe, you and I. It is as though we speak a language no one can understand, a secret that we hold behind our eyes that no one else can see.
I am so in love with you. It overwhems me at times the capacity of love that my heart can hold for you.
You patiently wait as I fumble around trying to figure out the how and where of our life story. You look at me and silently assure me that as long as I am there, you don’t care where in this world we are. And as I look around in growing panic at the world I have brought you into, you smile at me and splash happily in the bucket of cold water that is now your “tubby”.
This past year has brought us in and out of many trials, and although I wish everyday for the power to be able to promise you no more, I know that you trust unconditionally that I will keep us safe through the storms.
You have changed the way that I think, the way that I speak, the way that I act. You take my breath away everyday.
You have made me the person I have always wanted to be, just by allowing me to be your mom.
I thank God everyday for choosing me for this great and powerful role.
You are the light that leads me to the place where I find peace, the strength that keeps me standing, the hope that keeps me trusting, the breath in my soul, you are my purpose, you are my everything…
Ms. Danika Rain, I promise you today, that I will spend every waking minute trying to make you feel the way that you make me feel every second of everyday.
I love you so much more than even my heart can hold.
Love,
Mom
Our journey together began just one short year ago. It is amazing to me that we have known each other for only 625 days, yet I feel you have been etched in my heart for all my life.
You have become as natural to me as the air that I breathe, the beat of my heart, the blink of my eye. You are my weakness and my strength. My tears and my laughter. The end of one chapter, and the beginning of another. One we will write together. Our tears and our laughter will splash on the pages of our journey, our story will be written with victories and with hardships. Both will taste sweeter and be cushioned lighter as we brave the storm in each other’s arms.
You have taught me more than I ever thought humanly possible. A tiny little Buddha trapped in such a small body. For 23 years I have searched for something that I had no idea how to find. And in one short year you have shown me through your not always quiet wisdom, what true love feels like.
After 23 years of restlessness, my heart is at peace.
And although I am supposed to be the protector and the provider, you my love, have been both for our small yet completely perfect little family we have created together. You have protected my heart with your stubby little fingers, promising to never let anything happen to it that we can’t mend together. And you have provided us with more laughter and insight into this world than all the visas stamped in our passports combined. And every brief glimpse that you allow me to see the world through your eyes, is a glimpse into what heaven truly must look like. For you hold no anger, no negativity, no ill will, for anything. You look at everything around you, including me, with the perfect love that God has wished for us all.
We have created quite the indestructable tribe, you and I. It is as though we speak a language no one can understand, a secret that we hold behind our eyes that no one else can see.
I am so in love with you. It overwhems me at times the capacity of love that my heart can hold for you.
You patiently wait as I fumble around trying to figure out the how and where of our life story. You look at me and silently assure me that as long as I am there, you don’t care where in this world we are. And as I look around in growing panic at the world I have brought you into, you smile at me and splash happily in the bucket of cold water that is now your “tubby”.
This past year has brought us in and out of many trials, and although I wish everyday for the power to be able to promise you no more, I know that you trust unconditionally that I will keep us safe through the storms.
You have changed the way that I think, the way that I speak, the way that I act. You take my breath away everyday.
You have made me the person I have always wanted to be, just by allowing me to be your mom.
I thank God everyday for choosing me for this great and powerful role.
You are the light that leads me to the place where I find peace, the strength that keeps me standing, the hope that keeps me trusting, the breath in my soul, you are my purpose, you are my everything…
Ms. Danika Rain, I promise you today, that I will spend every waking minute trying to make you feel the way that you make me feel every second of everyday.
I love you so much more than even my heart can hold.
Love,
Mom
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
The Reason I Won't be Celebrated on Mother's Day (A Late Entry)
I promised myself I would tell no one my deepest, darkest secret. And now, on Mother’s Day, I am going to tell everyone…
There is a very good reason why I should not be celebrated. You see, my deepest, darkest secret actually happened on this very Mother’s Day.
A very dear friend of mine sent me an amazing book entitled The Anatomy of the Spirit, and now in an effort to cleanse my spirit, I have decided to be completely vulnerable and honest about my shortcomings. And trust me, this is a big one.
So here goes….
It being Mother’s day, and me being totally exhausted from Danika being up all night (apparently she realized that Mother’s Day begins at midnight and decided she just had to spend the entire night awake with me), I decided in a moment that I am not proud of, that it would be parentally acceptable for me to lay with Danika on the floor as she plays and maybe catch a little shut eye. P.S the floor is tile and Danika loves to pull herself up on things and occasionally falls backward (just to make the story even worse).
What felt like 20 seconds later (but turned out to be a half hour), I woke up in a moment of panic as a I searched the room for her, a million thoughts going through my head about what could’ve happened. And there she was, my little angel, sitting on the floor just as quiet and calm as a…wait a minute, quiet and calm, my daughter, oh god somethings wrong! As I got closer I realized that she was eating something (the worst moment in parenting history is approaching), and I let out a yelp as I realized what it was…
Danika had pooped her diaper and was now shoving her hand in the side of it and removing pieces and shoveling them into her mouth.
I yelled out “Danika, no stop!!!” She paused, looked straight into my eyes, and in total awareness of her disobedience put the piece she had in her hand directly into her mouth.
I grabbed her and wiped her hands quickly before any more would find its way into her mouth, apologizing over and over for falling asleep.
And just when I thought I couldn’t feel any worse…
I looked Danika straight in the eye and asked her to forgive me. She just looked at me as if she understood what I was saying, and burst out in the biggest smile I ever seen, a tiny piece of poop dangling from her top tooth.
It is because of that moment that I refuse to be celebrated today.
There is a very good reason why I should not be celebrated. You see, my deepest, darkest secret actually happened on this very Mother’s Day.
A very dear friend of mine sent me an amazing book entitled The Anatomy of the Spirit, and now in an effort to cleanse my spirit, I have decided to be completely vulnerable and honest about my shortcomings. And trust me, this is a big one.
So here goes….
It being Mother’s day, and me being totally exhausted from Danika being up all night (apparently she realized that Mother’s Day begins at midnight and decided she just had to spend the entire night awake with me), I decided in a moment that I am not proud of, that it would be parentally acceptable for me to lay with Danika on the floor as she plays and maybe catch a little shut eye. P.S the floor is tile and Danika loves to pull herself up on things and occasionally falls backward (just to make the story even worse).
What felt like 20 seconds later (but turned out to be a half hour), I woke up in a moment of panic as a I searched the room for her, a million thoughts going through my head about what could’ve happened. And there she was, my little angel, sitting on the floor just as quiet and calm as a…wait a minute, quiet and calm, my daughter, oh god somethings wrong! As I got closer I realized that she was eating something (the worst moment in parenting history is approaching), and I let out a yelp as I realized what it was…
Danika had pooped her diaper and was now shoving her hand in the side of it and removing pieces and shoveling them into her mouth.
I yelled out “Danika, no stop!!!” She paused, looked straight into my eyes, and in total awareness of her disobedience put the piece she had in her hand directly into her mouth.
I grabbed her and wiped her hands quickly before any more would find its way into her mouth, apologizing over and over for falling asleep.
And just when I thought I couldn’t feel any worse…
I looked Danika straight in the eye and asked her to forgive me. She just looked at me as if she understood what I was saying, and burst out in the biggest smile I ever seen, a tiny piece of poop dangling from her top tooth.
It is because of that moment that I refuse to be celebrated today.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Today My Daughter Touched a Jaguar
Along with building the most amazing resort in history, Nikki Beach also funds an animal reserve on site that takes in rescued animals that have been captured by hunters and sold on the black market. One such animal is a 5 month old jaguar named Sumo. He was sold to an American business owner on the mainland of Honduras by a poacher who had killed his Mom and was looking to sell Sumo as a pet. The American bought Sumo from the poachers and promptly brought him here to the Nikki Beach Reserve. He was sick, malnourished, and on the brink of death. The Vet here nursed him back to health and now he is the healthiest, most lovable animal you could ever meet. He plays with dog toys and gets so excited when he sees people coming that he forgets about his size and throws himself at you. If you put your hand up to his cage (cage is an understatement, Sumo has an actual replica of a jungle as a home, it's the next best thing to actually being in the jungle, trust me) he will put his paw on your hand begging you to play with him. I will use any and every excuse to go down to the reserve to see the animals, but was waiting on the perfect opportunity to bring Danika down.
Yesterday was it.
Danika squealed at the monkeys chattering and jumping down to harmlessly grab at her feet, pointed at each one of the exotic parrots and mackaws squawking at us as we threw them pieces of fruit, but I have never seen her make the face that she did when she saw Sumo up close and personal. She was utterly stunned. She stared at him with her mouth wide open and her eyes even wider. She didn't even make a move. She wasn't scared, just in awe of this creature that was too big to be a "puppy" but didn't look like a human. Sumo seeming to know that he was in the presence of something slightly more delicate than he was used to, very gently stood up to reach where my hand was placed. His face was right next to Danika's. Danika very slowly took her tiny little pointer finger and placed it directly on the pad of Sumo's paw. Sumo just stood there as Danika poked his paw again and again, looking up at me with her mouth still wide open.
Another moment of paradise.
I then took her over to the most dynamic of all of the creatures there; a two toed sloth named Guillermo. Guillermo has a big attitude, but can only move in slow motion so it makes it all the more funny to see him fuss at you. He is easily the ugliest creature I have ever seen but he certainly doesn't know it.
I saved the best for last with my two favorite animals in the reserve. Two big fat old monkeys named Gordo and Blanche. Gordo is named Gordo because that's exactly what he is, fat. He was captured and sold as a pet to an American family who fed him candy and pop until he became so sick that they didn't want him anymore. Now he eats fruits, vegetables, and has the occasional treat of sweet coconut. He is still fat, but getting healthier and healthier by the day. He is very outgoing and when he sees you coming, he runs and puts his whole arm out to touch you. Mouth wide open in what looks like a snarl, but is actually a smile.
Blanche is an old lady that was also used as a pet. She is missing a finger for some unknown reason and is very very frightened of humans (one could only guess why). She does not trust anyone, but has decided to trust me for some reason. When I come around her she gently sticks her hand out to me and we just stand there holding hands like old friends. I don't make any sudden movements around her, and don't pet her or feed her treats. She wants nothing more than to hold my hand as I talk softly to her about anything and everything. Sometimes she closes her eyes as I talk as if she is imagining all the beautiful things I describe to her.
It makes me sick to think that people could abuse these beautiful creatures and the reality of poachers in Central America is very much a part of day to day life, a fact that I single handedly can do nothing about. As long as there are people who are willing to buy, then there are poachers that are willing to sell.
I will make note that the reserve is not yet open to the public and when it is, the public will not get to have the same experience that I was able to share with Danika. The animals will be viewed from a far and treated as though they are wild.
For now, I will enjoy every second I possibly can with Blanche, Sumo, and the rest of the gang. I try not to show my sadness for the freedom that they have so unfairly lost, although I'm sure they can feel it in my touch and see it in my eyes. I am sorry for all that they have gone through for the sake of other's, but I am thankful that the Lord has brought them here, a fate that very few others will get to see.
See bottom of page for a picture of Danika and Blanche.
Yesterday was it.
Danika squealed at the monkeys chattering and jumping down to harmlessly grab at her feet, pointed at each one of the exotic parrots and mackaws squawking at us as we threw them pieces of fruit, but I have never seen her make the face that she did when she saw Sumo up close and personal. She was utterly stunned. She stared at him with her mouth wide open and her eyes even wider. She didn't even make a move. She wasn't scared, just in awe of this creature that was too big to be a "puppy" but didn't look like a human. Sumo seeming to know that he was in the presence of something slightly more delicate than he was used to, very gently stood up to reach where my hand was placed. His face was right next to Danika's. Danika very slowly took her tiny little pointer finger and placed it directly on the pad of Sumo's paw. Sumo just stood there as Danika poked his paw again and again, looking up at me with her mouth still wide open.
Another moment of paradise.
I then took her over to the most dynamic of all of the creatures there; a two toed sloth named Guillermo. Guillermo has a big attitude, but can only move in slow motion so it makes it all the more funny to see him fuss at you. He is easily the ugliest creature I have ever seen but he certainly doesn't know it.
I saved the best for last with my two favorite animals in the reserve. Two big fat old monkeys named Gordo and Blanche. Gordo is named Gordo because that's exactly what he is, fat. He was captured and sold as a pet to an American family who fed him candy and pop until he became so sick that they didn't want him anymore. Now he eats fruits, vegetables, and has the occasional treat of sweet coconut. He is still fat, but getting healthier and healthier by the day. He is very outgoing and when he sees you coming, he runs and puts his whole arm out to touch you. Mouth wide open in what looks like a snarl, but is actually a smile.
Blanche is an old lady that was also used as a pet. She is missing a finger for some unknown reason and is very very frightened of humans (one could only guess why). She does not trust anyone, but has decided to trust me for some reason. When I come around her she gently sticks her hand out to me and we just stand there holding hands like old friends. I don't make any sudden movements around her, and don't pet her or feed her treats. She wants nothing more than to hold my hand as I talk softly to her about anything and everything. Sometimes she closes her eyes as I talk as if she is imagining all the beautiful things I describe to her.
It makes me sick to think that people could abuse these beautiful creatures and the reality of poachers in Central America is very much a part of day to day life, a fact that I single handedly can do nothing about. As long as there are people who are willing to buy, then there are poachers that are willing to sell.
I will make note that the reserve is not yet open to the public and when it is, the public will not get to have the same experience that I was able to share with Danika. The animals will be viewed from a far and treated as though they are wild.
For now, I will enjoy every second I possibly can with Blanche, Sumo, and the rest of the gang. I try not to show my sadness for the freedom that they have so unfairly lost, although I'm sure they can feel it in my touch and see it in my eyes. I am sorry for all that they have gone through for the sake of other's, but I am thankful that the Lord has brought them here, a fate that very few others will get to see.
See bottom of page for a picture of Danika and Blanche.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Very Unlikely Roommates
I have three obnoxious roommates that share my space, eat my food, but refuse to help me pay rent.
One, we will call him Larry, resides strictly in the kitchen. He eats any and all crumbs of food that might have been dropped and hides in the most inconvenient places.
Larry is a cockroach, and a big one too.
He comes out every night to inspect the happenings of the kitchen and leaves every morning to give me my space. I respect him and he respects me. It's a very unique and ugly relationship. I know that if I enter the kitchen anytime after 8, I can expect to see Larry creeping around on the floor by the refridge. He stops whenever I enter the room and looks at me with a look that I can only describe as inconvenienced. It's as if we share custody of the kitchen and I am infringing on his time. I can honestly say that I have not had any desire to kill Larry, but know that even if I did, I would have no idea where to start. You see Larry is territorial, and not a bit afraid of me. There has been two occasions in which I have entered the kitchen in a sleepy haze and have not been aware of Larry's where abouts and he has actually walked over my foot. I have no doubt in my mind, should I choose to try and end his life, that he would put up quite a fight.
(P.S. He's about as long as my index finger.) And so I choose to pick my battles and he is not it.
The second, we will call Harry, lives in the hallway and is quite a bit more spasodic than Larry. He is an ant, and the biggest ant I have ever seen. I mean you can actually see this guy move in the dark. He does not enjoy my company in the least bit and scurries up the wall everytime I walk by. Unlike Larry however, Harry seems to be all bark and no bite, and doesn't get into any of my things, so I let him rule the hallway as he so chooses and try not to disrespect him in front of his ant friends by scaring him too often.
The third, and by far the most annoying roommate, we will call Big Mama. She resides in the bathroom, and although I have left the door open on many many occasions, refuses to leave. It's as if she is challenging me. Short of killing her, there is nothing I can do.
She is a spider, and not just any spider, I'm talking Charlotte's fat cousin spider. This thing could barely fit in my palm (if for some reason I ever decided it would be a good idea to put a possibly poisonous tropical spider in my palm, she would not fit). She also only comes out after dinner time and can be found in three very specific places (not that you have to look too hard to find her).
On the clothes hamper, on the wall by the garbage can, and my least favorite, on the toilet bowl.
She also seems to be harmless in that she has yet to attack me, however any attempts of mine to stomp my foot to get her to leave have been completely fruitless. She has called my bluff, seen that I am too soft to harm her, and taken complete advantage of my weakness.
I have gotten used to her presence at this point, and can honestly say that the only time I'm really nervous about entering the bathroom is when I can't see her. The possibility of her resting on my brush as I reach into the drawer without looking to grab it frightens me far more than knowing she is sitting by the garbage (in which case I would walk my garbage out to the kitchen, in truth I would rather see Larry than Big Mama, but just barely). I realize that my bathroom experience is completely dictated by an animal that is about 1/100 my size, and I have gotten very good at brushing my teeth while keeping one eye on her furry fat little behind just in case she decides to make a move.
My friend offered to "remove" her a few days ago, and I was immediately disgusted with the thought of her being killed due to my comfort level. What about her family? What if she really is Charlotte's fat cousin?
The thing about it is you never really know their story, and whose to say that she wasn't there first? Maybe she watches me just as careful thinking the very same things that I am.
I am moving into a new and improved apartment the 1st of June, and although I will not think twice about leaving my "friends" behind, I can honestly say that Larry, Harry, and Big Mama have been more tolerable than some of my roommates in the past.
One, we will call him Larry, resides strictly in the kitchen. He eats any and all crumbs of food that might have been dropped and hides in the most inconvenient places.
Larry is a cockroach, and a big one too.
He comes out every night to inspect the happenings of the kitchen and leaves every morning to give me my space. I respect him and he respects me. It's a very unique and ugly relationship. I know that if I enter the kitchen anytime after 8, I can expect to see Larry creeping around on the floor by the refridge. He stops whenever I enter the room and looks at me with a look that I can only describe as inconvenienced. It's as if we share custody of the kitchen and I am infringing on his time. I can honestly say that I have not had any desire to kill Larry, but know that even if I did, I would have no idea where to start. You see Larry is territorial, and not a bit afraid of me. There has been two occasions in which I have entered the kitchen in a sleepy haze and have not been aware of Larry's where abouts and he has actually walked over my foot. I have no doubt in my mind, should I choose to try and end his life, that he would put up quite a fight.
(P.S. He's about as long as my index finger.) And so I choose to pick my battles and he is not it.
The second, we will call Harry, lives in the hallway and is quite a bit more spasodic than Larry. He is an ant, and the biggest ant I have ever seen. I mean you can actually see this guy move in the dark. He does not enjoy my company in the least bit and scurries up the wall everytime I walk by. Unlike Larry however, Harry seems to be all bark and no bite, and doesn't get into any of my things, so I let him rule the hallway as he so chooses and try not to disrespect him in front of his ant friends by scaring him too often.
The third, and by far the most annoying roommate, we will call Big Mama. She resides in the bathroom, and although I have left the door open on many many occasions, refuses to leave. It's as if she is challenging me. Short of killing her, there is nothing I can do.
She is a spider, and not just any spider, I'm talking Charlotte's fat cousin spider. This thing could barely fit in my palm (if for some reason I ever decided it would be a good idea to put a possibly poisonous tropical spider in my palm, she would not fit). She also only comes out after dinner time and can be found in three very specific places (not that you have to look too hard to find her).
On the clothes hamper, on the wall by the garbage can, and my least favorite, on the toilet bowl.
She also seems to be harmless in that she has yet to attack me, however any attempts of mine to stomp my foot to get her to leave have been completely fruitless. She has called my bluff, seen that I am too soft to harm her, and taken complete advantage of my weakness.
I have gotten used to her presence at this point, and can honestly say that the only time I'm really nervous about entering the bathroom is when I can't see her. The possibility of her resting on my brush as I reach into the drawer without looking to grab it frightens me far more than knowing she is sitting by the garbage (in which case I would walk my garbage out to the kitchen, in truth I would rather see Larry than Big Mama, but just barely). I realize that my bathroom experience is completely dictated by an animal that is about 1/100 my size, and I have gotten very good at brushing my teeth while keeping one eye on her furry fat little behind just in case she decides to make a move.
My friend offered to "remove" her a few days ago, and I was immediately disgusted with the thought of her being killed due to my comfort level. What about her family? What if she really is Charlotte's fat cousin?
The thing about it is you never really know their story, and whose to say that she wasn't there first? Maybe she watches me just as careful thinking the very same things that I am.
I am moving into a new and improved apartment the 1st of June, and although I will not think twice about leaving my "friends" behind, I can honestly say that Larry, Harry, and Big Mama have been more tolerable than some of my roommates in the past.
My Socio-Economical Desires (or lack there of) Have Been Compromised
I went, I saw, I had the time of my life. Dammit.
Friday morning I stepped out of the 6 passenger plane that took me to the Mainland, only to be met by my driver (what???) who brought me to the 5 star hotel that I would be staying at for the night.
There I met the President of Nikki Beach, and my boss who flew in from Miami, the Director of Marketing of Nikki Beach. Strangely, I didn't feel out of my league and managed to jump into a few conversations here in there about the business.
Later my boss told me to pick from the four dresses her bought for me and off we went to the ultra exclusive party.
When we got there the pool that led up to the club was lit up with candles. Everything was draped in white linen, the couches were white , the candles were white, everyone was dressed in white, it was elegant, sexy, and absolutely fabulous. Our team gave a presentation about Nikki Beach to a room full of the richest people in North and Central America who are all anxiously awaiting it's opening in 2010. By the end of the night, we managed to sell almost every single one of the condos that were available. The press ate everything up, taking pictures left and right (I managed to sneak into a few of them too).
Here's how you know that you are at a glamorous party: there were models hired to walk around and make the party look good.
I will break for a little FYI now and let everyone know that twice I was asked if I was Jennifer Aniston (I'm assuming they mean Jennifer Aniston in her fat, not sure what to do with her hair, early Friends stage), both times I politely pointed out my name tag which in fact did not read Jennifer, but Courtney, in pretty bold letters might I add.
And of course in true Courtney fashion, I couldn't let the most elegant night of my life pass by without getting into a fight with a rich snob.
His name was Larry and he was every bit as annoying as his name. He had a lot of money and of course an even bigger sense of entitlement. He decided that it was his duty to embarrass me periodically throughout the night by making sexual references about me loud enough for a fourth of the room to hear and hit on my incessantly. By the end of the night I ran out of cute quips and turned around and loud enough for half the room to get quiet told him that he was being completely disrespectful in what was supposed to be a professional setting and if he was going to continue to be rude I was going to ask him to leave (of course I had absolutely no jurisdiction to actually do that but it sounded good). He just stared at me blankly and his plastic wife broke out in laughter and said, "that's right honey, put him in his place!".
I apologized to my boss about my outburst but was told to never apologize for defending my integrity. Even the phrasing sounds elegant right?
Later that night, my boss told that I was going to have a wardrobe made for me so I can keep up with the elegant style of Nikki Beach when clients fly in to Roatan. I can honestly say that I don't exactly know what having a wardrobe made for me means, but it sounds like something I want to be a part of.
The next morning I awoke early to catch my flight back to my sweet baby girl (who was staying with her Ti Ti) and while waiting for my driver, decided to have breakfast by the pool and charge it to my room (along with two snickers bars, three natural juices and a water from the minibar; all together totaling over $100, oops). As I sat pondering the night and how much easier it was for me to fit in then I had hoped, I realized that I was starting to like the rich lifestyle. I loved the clothes, I loved the service, I loved the accessability to everything you could ever need. I even liked the automatic respect you got from everyone around you. And I was good at the conversation too, I could fit right in with any of them and no one seemed to know that I was a wolf in a sheep's really expensive dress.
The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. Was I losing myself in all of this? Was I changing? Was I becoming what I hate the most?
And just as I was losing hope in the strength of my values, I, without even realizing it, took a bag from my purse, emptied it's contents, and started filling it with all of the food that was going to be thrown out from the table to bring home for the street dogs.
I guess there are some values that all the money in the world can't touch.
Friday morning I stepped out of the 6 passenger plane that took me to the Mainland, only to be met by my driver (what???) who brought me to the 5 star hotel that I would be staying at for the night.
There I met the President of Nikki Beach, and my boss who flew in from Miami, the Director of Marketing of Nikki Beach. Strangely, I didn't feel out of my league and managed to jump into a few conversations here in there about the business.
Later my boss told me to pick from the four dresses her bought for me and off we went to the ultra exclusive party.
When we got there the pool that led up to the club was lit up with candles. Everything was draped in white linen, the couches were white , the candles were white, everyone was dressed in white, it was elegant, sexy, and absolutely fabulous. Our team gave a presentation about Nikki Beach to a room full of the richest people in North and Central America who are all anxiously awaiting it's opening in 2010. By the end of the night, we managed to sell almost every single one of the condos that were available. The press ate everything up, taking pictures left and right (I managed to sneak into a few of them too).
Here's how you know that you are at a glamorous party: there were models hired to walk around and make the party look good.
I will break for a little FYI now and let everyone know that twice I was asked if I was Jennifer Aniston (I'm assuming they mean Jennifer Aniston in her fat, not sure what to do with her hair, early Friends stage), both times I politely pointed out my name tag which in fact did not read Jennifer, but Courtney, in pretty bold letters might I add.
And of course in true Courtney fashion, I couldn't let the most elegant night of my life pass by without getting into a fight with a rich snob.
His name was Larry and he was every bit as annoying as his name. He had a lot of money and of course an even bigger sense of entitlement. He decided that it was his duty to embarrass me periodically throughout the night by making sexual references about me loud enough for a fourth of the room to hear and hit on my incessantly. By the end of the night I ran out of cute quips and turned around and loud enough for half the room to get quiet told him that he was being completely disrespectful in what was supposed to be a professional setting and if he was going to continue to be rude I was going to ask him to leave (of course I had absolutely no jurisdiction to actually do that but it sounded good). He just stared at me blankly and his plastic wife broke out in laughter and said, "that's right honey, put him in his place!".
I apologized to my boss about my outburst but was told to never apologize for defending my integrity. Even the phrasing sounds elegant right?
Later that night, my boss told that I was going to have a wardrobe made for me so I can keep up with the elegant style of Nikki Beach when clients fly in to Roatan. I can honestly say that I don't exactly know what having a wardrobe made for me means, but it sounds like something I want to be a part of.
The next morning I awoke early to catch my flight back to my sweet baby girl (who was staying with her Ti Ti) and while waiting for my driver, decided to have breakfast by the pool and charge it to my room (along with two snickers bars, three natural juices and a water from the minibar; all together totaling over $100, oops). As I sat pondering the night and how much easier it was for me to fit in then I had hoped, I realized that I was starting to like the rich lifestyle. I loved the clothes, I loved the service, I loved the accessability to everything you could ever need. I even liked the automatic respect you got from everyone around you. And I was good at the conversation too, I could fit right in with any of them and no one seemed to know that I was a wolf in a sheep's really expensive dress.
The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. Was I losing myself in all of this? Was I changing? Was I becoming what I hate the most?
And just as I was losing hope in the strength of my values, I, without even realizing it, took a bag from my purse, emptied it's contents, and started filling it with all of the food that was going to be thrown out from the table to bring home for the street dogs.
I guess there are some values that all the money in the world can't touch.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Working Girl Again
I have officially become a working girl again.
My first few days away from Danika have proven to be much harder than I thought and once again reiterates my point that we are seldom happy in the exact moment we are in, as just last week I was complaining that I wanted a job so bad, and now I have one and am mourning the loss of my time with Danika.
So for all of you wondering, here's the scoop.
I am the Office Manager for a company called Nikki Beach Resort and Spa.
It is still in the beginning stages of development and will not be completed until 2010. It is the first 5 star resort that Central America has ever seen and will surely change the face of Roatan, as it will bring in millionaires and celebrities that would have never come here otherwise.
Anyone interested can go to www.blueoceanreef.com to see more.
It is truly an incredible project and one that I am grateful to be a part of.
I have always enjoyed watching something start from gravel and rock and grow into something incredible. I am torn about my feelings however as I feel that I have now integrated myself into the tourist/Rich American crowd versus the poor Honduran crowd I have felt so much a part of since I've been here. It saddens me to see what this will do to the class status here on the island, as the gap between rich and poor will surely sky rocket. However I know that this will also bring about many jobs where there were none, and give the economy the boost it needs for the survival of it's citizens.
This weekend I am being flown to San Pedro Sula on the main land for an ultra exclusive VIP Party attended by some of the richest people in the world. Land owners will fly in from all different countries to see the unveiling of the project and the launching of Nikki Beach in Roatan. It will be a feeding frenzy of buying and selling the property and condos, millions of dollars will be exchanged. Millions of dollars have already been spent on that one night alone. Champagne and exquisite food will flow. Models and celebrities will be present. Everyone will be dressed in all white. White Linens draped over everything. It will be elegant, it will be trendy, it will be luxurious. It will be everything that I am not....
I am to get on a private jet tomorrow morning at 6 am and will be picked up by a driver at the airport where I will be escorted to a 5 star hotel where I am staying for the night. My boss is flying in from Miami special for just the night, bringing with him a dress that he purchased for me from one of the most expensive stores in America. I will meet with billionaires, and models, and celebrities all wanting a piece of this incredible development. It will be a night I will never forget.
I find the irony of the situation overwhelming.
Never in a million and one years would this situation present itself for me in America. I was surrounded by the culture of greed, having everything I could need at my fingertips (or at least at the nearest Walmart) and yet wouldn't be able to touch that crowd of "haves". Because I was a "have not".
Now I am living in a third world country where running water is a luxury that is promised to no one, and am constantly surrounded by those same "haves" that want a piece of what I've got.
They come into my office begging to be a part of this incredible project, begging to be included in the "Nikki Beach crowd", and always leave with a strange curiousity for the girl who doesn't seem to be impressed with their designer sunglasses and summer homes in Belize. They ask me a million questions about how I got here and what businesses I own, and cant' believe that I came here following my heart not my pocket. A concept they surely will never understand.
And they unknowningly have justified the exact reason that I came here in the first place, because once you "have" you will never be satisfied again. There will always be something more. You begin to look externally for your contentment versus internally; the only place that it can truly be found.
They look at me with blank stares when I try to explain that the view is still as breathtaking from my $500 apartment as it is from their $989,000 condo.
After work I rush to the grocery store before it closes ( I work 6, sometimes 7 days a week to earn just enough money for an apartment, Danika's Nanny, and a few groceries), and fumble through my purse to find enough to buy Danika a melon for tomorrow since the market has already closed for the day. As I hand the cashier my last 500 lempiras ($30), I thank the Lord that my pockets don't run any deeper than they need to.
And let me tell you, that hard-earned melon never tasted so good.
My first few days away from Danika have proven to be much harder than I thought and once again reiterates my point that we are seldom happy in the exact moment we are in, as just last week I was complaining that I wanted a job so bad, and now I have one and am mourning the loss of my time with Danika.
So for all of you wondering, here's the scoop.
I am the Office Manager for a company called Nikki Beach Resort and Spa.
It is still in the beginning stages of development and will not be completed until 2010. It is the first 5 star resort that Central America has ever seen and will surely change the face of Roatan, as it will bring in millionaires and celebrities that would have never come here otherwise.
Anyone interested can go to www.blueoceanreef.com to see more.
It is truly an incredible project and one that I am grateful to be a part of.
I have always enjoyed watching something start from gravel and rock and grow into something incredible. I am torn about my feelings however as I feel that I have now integrated myself into the tourist/Rich American crowd versus the poor Honduran crowd I have felt so much a part of since I've been here. It saddens me to see what this will do to the class status here on the island, as the gap between rich and poor will surely sky rocket. However I know that this will also bring about many jobs where there were none, and give the economy the boost it needs for the survival of it's citizens.
This weekend I am being flown to San Pedro Sula on the main land for an ultra exclusive VIP Party attended by some of the richest people in the world. Land owners will fly in from all different countries to see the unveiling of the project and the launching of Nikki Beach in Roatan. It will be a feeding frenzy of buying and selling the property and condos, millions of dollars will be exchanged. Millions of dollars have already been spent on that one night alone. Champagne and exquisite food will flow. Models and celebrities will be present. Everyone will be dressed in all white. White Linens draped over everything. It will be elegant, it will be trendy, it will be luxurious. It will be everything that I am not....
I am to get on a private jet tomorrow morning at 6 am and will be picked up by a driver at the airport where I will be escorted to a 5 star hotel where I am staying for the night. My boss is flying in from Miami special for just the night, bringing with him a dress that he purchased for me from one of the most expensive stores in America. I will meet with billionaires, and models, and celebrities all wanting a piece of this incredible development. It will be a night I will never forget.
I find the irony of the situation overwhelming.
Never in a million and one years would this situation present itself for me in America. I was surrounded by the culture of greed, having everything I could need at my fingertips (or at least at the nearest Walmart) and yet wouldn't be able to touch that crowd of "haves". Because I was a "have not".
Now I am living in a third world country where running water is a luxury that is promised to no one, and am constantly surrounded by those same "haves" that want a piece of what I've got.
They come into my office begging to be a part of this incredible project, begging to be included in the "Nikki Beach crowd", and always leave with a strange curiousity for the girl who doesn't seem to be impressed with their designer sunglasses and summer homes in Belize. They ask me a million questions about how I got here and what businesses I own, and cant' believe that I came here following my heart not my pocket. A concept they surely will never understand.
And they unknowningly have justified the exact reason that I came here in the first place, because once you "have" you will never be satisfied again. There will always be something more. You begin to look externally for your contentment versus internally; the only place that it can truly be found.
They look at me with blank stares when I try to explain that the view is still as breathtaking from my $500 apartment as it is from their $989,000 condo.
After work I rush to the grocery store before it closes ( I work 6, sometimes 7 days a week to earn just enough money for an apartment, Danika's Nanny, and a few groceries), and fumble through my purse to find enough to buy Danika a melon for tomorrow since the market has already closed for the day. As I hand the cashier my last 500 lempiras ($30), I thank the Lord that my pockets don't run any deeper than they need to.
And let me tell you, that hard-earned melon never tasted so good.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Danika's New "Daycare"
Lisa and the rest of the Zamzows, I regret to inform you that you have officially been replaced.
Perhaps replaced is the wrong word, substituted is more like it.
For those of you who didn't know Lisa's Daycare, it was Danika's home away from home while I worked in the States. Providing for Danika's every need, any toy Danika could want she had at her fingertips. Books, blocks, toys that made noise, walkers, bouncers, outside toys. She had it all. If she was hungry, she ate. If she was thirsty, she drank the nice cold milk waiting for her in the fridge. She enjoyed the heat when it was cold, and cold when it was hot. She was comfortable. She was content. She had no idea what was coming...
Today I sit at work while Danika is at her new "Daycare".
In Honduras, there is no such thing as a Daycare, no place to go to bring your kids when you work. As a female, once you have children, you stay home to mind them, bottomline.
If you want someone to look after your child, you have to seek them out.
And it's not your middle aged, educated, retired teacher kind of person (sorry Lisa, you're only middle aged in numbers, in spirit you're in your 20's). It's a 14 year old drop out whose family couldn't afford to send her to school anymore and now sells tortilla at a stand in town, kind of person.
I found my new "Nanny" in the shack next door. She says she's 14 but in all reality is probably more like 12. She stays with her mom, dad, and 5 brothers and sisters in a tiny one room shack made out of plywood and not much else. The floor is dirt and there is nothing in it but a mattress and a stove. I was desperate to find someone so that I could work, and she said that she would work for 1500 lempiras a month ($90). My job required me to work 6, sometimes 7 days a week and I knew that I would never find someone else that would watch her everyday. Plus, I didn't have a vehicle so I had to find someone close to where I was living so that I could pick her up and drop her off on foot. I knew that my money was quickly running out and I needed to work bad if Danika and I were going to stay here in Roatan. So I made a decision and trusted God.
And just like that Danika had a new "daycare".
The first day I dropped her off I packed a bag the size of a small suitcase with anything and everything Danika would need. The girl and her family don't speak English so I brought along a translator to tell them what she can and cannot eat, that I perfer she doesn't use plastic things, that we don't use conventional medicine, to make sure to re-apply our natural organic bug spray every couple of hours, to make sure her bonnet stays on to keep her out of the sun, that she likes to nap in your arms, and on and on and on. The girl politely listened to everything and I teared up as I handed over my baby girl.
I rushed home 10 hours later to pick her up as nightfall was approaching. As I approached the shack I saw my bag sitting exactly where I left it. A moment of panic hit me as I immediately regreted my decision to leave her there and was sure that I would hear horror stories of all the things Danika was exposed to. I realized that I didn't know enough Spanish to ask all the questions that I was dying to ask about Danika's day and why they didn't use anything that I brought. I ran to get a friend to translate.
And here is what I found out:
Danika's first day away from me was spent playing on a piece of cardboard in the grass in the beautiful Caribbean sun, taking a four hour nap in a hammock, eating a healthy meal of homemade beans and rice, and enjoying a freshly squeezed mango as a snack. She spent the afternoon playing with the rest of the children in the neighborhood fussing over her and trying anything and everything to get her to laugh. She spent the late afternoon taking a walk by the Caribbean Sea and listening to soft Spanish songs sung by 3 generations of Spanish women. She was bathed in a warm bucket of rain water in the back of the shack and was exhausted from her activities. When she saw me, she reached for me, and then immediately looked back for her Nanny.
I felt ignorant for lecturing them on all the things that I had that morning, and ungrateful for thinking that they were less sufficient than a Lisa Zamzow just because of there circumstances.
Once again, I was humbled.
The second day I picked Danika up, she didn't even reach for me.
Shefina (my mom away from my mom) says with a laugh that by next week she will like her Nanny more than me. I tell her that that's not even a little bit funny as I try to conceal the tears welling up in my eyes.
I put into perspective the incredible lesson that I learned about myself in all of this. I always thought that I was a non-judgemental person, but I immediately judged them because of their circumstances and assumed that because they were poor and Spanish that Danika would not be in good hands. When in the end, Danika couldn't be in a better place. She is surrounded by a different culture and different language other than her own, and will learn to appreciate all walks of life, not just the ones who look and talk like her.
Shefina laughs as she watches me feed Danika her dinner and says that she's sure Danika's first word will be "tortilla".
I look at Danika and tell her that it better not be; Danika just smiles a toothy grin up at me and goes back to working on her banana.
Perhaps replaced is the wrong word, substituted is more like it.
For those of you who didn't know Lisa's Daycare, it was Danika's home away from home while I worked in the States. Providing for Danika's every need, any toy Danika could want she had at her fingertips. Books, blocks, toys that made noise, walkers, bouncers, outside toys. She had it all. If she was hungry, she ate. If she was thirsty, she drank the nice cold milk waiting for her in the fridge. She enjoyed the heat when it was cold, and cold when it was hot. She was comfortable. She was content. She had no idea what was coming...
Today I sit at work while Danika is at her new "Daycare".
In Honduras, there is no such thing as a Daycare, no place to go to bring your kids when you work. As a female, once you have children, you stay home to mind them, bottomline.
If you want someone to look after your child, you have to seek them out.
And it's not your middle aged, educated, retired teacher kind of person (sorry Lisa, you're only middle aged in numbers, in spirit you're in your 20's). It's a 14 year old drop out whose family couldn't afford to send her to school anymore and now sells tortilla at a stand in town, kind of person.
I found my new "Nanny" in the shack next door. She says she's 14 but in all reality is probably more like 12. She stays with her mom, dad, and 5 brothers and sisters in a tiny one room shack made out of plywood and not much else. The floor is dirt and there is nothing in it but a mattress and a stove. I was desperate to find someone so that I could work, and she said that she would work for 1500 lempiras a month ($90). My job required me to work 6, sometimes 7 days a week and I knew that I would never find someone else that would watch her everyday. Plus, I didn't have a vehicle so I had to find someone close to where I was living so that I could pick her up and drop her off on foot. I knew that my money was quickly running out and I needed to work bad if Danika and I were going to stay here in Roatan. So I made a decision and trusted God.
And just like that Danika had a new "daycare".
The first day I dropped her off I packed a bag the size of a small suitcase with anything and everything Danika would need. The girl and her family don't speak English so I brought along a translator to tell them what she can and cannot eat, that I perfer she doesn't use plastic things, that we don't use conventional medicine, to make sure to re-apply our natural organic bug spray every couple of hours, to make sure her bonnet stays on to keep her out of the sun, that she likes to nap in your arms, and on and on and on. The girl politely listened to everything and I teared up as I handed over my baby girl.
I rushed home 10 hours later to pick her up as nightfall was approaching. As I approached the shack I saw my bag sitting exactly where I left it. A moment of panic hit me as I immediately regreted my decision to leave her there and was sure that I would hear horror stories of all the things Danika was exposed to. I realized that I didn't know enough Spanish to ask all the questions that I was dying to ask about Danika's day and why they didn't use anything that I brought. I ran to get a friend to translate.
And here is what I found out:
Danika's first day away from me was spent playing on a piece of cardboard in the grass in the beautiful Caribbean sun, taking a four hour nap in a hammock, eating a healthy meal of homemade beans and rice, and enjoying a freshly squeezed mango as a snack. She spent the afternoon playing with the rest of the children in the neighborhood fussing over her and trying anything and everything to get her to laugh. She spent the late afternoon taking a walk by the Caribbean Sea and listening to soft Spanish songs sung by 3 generations of Spanish women. She was bathed in a warm bucket of rain water in the back of the shack and was exhausted from her activities. When she saw me, she reached for me, and then immediately looked back for her Nanny.
I felt ignorant for lecturing them on all the things that I had that morning, and ungrateful for thinking that they were less sufficient than a Lisa Zamzow just because of there circumstances.
Once again, I was humbled.
The second day I picked Danika up, she didn't even reach for me.
Shefina (my mom away from my mom) says with a laugh that by next week she will like her Nanny more than me. I tell her that that's not even a little bit funny as I try to conceal the tears welling up in my eyes.
I put into perspective the incredible lesson that I learned about myself in all of this. I always thought that I was a non-judgemental person, but I immediately judged them because of their circumstances and assumed that because they were poor and Spanish that Danika would not be in good hands. When in the end, Danika couldn't be in a better place. She is surrounded by a different culture and different language other than her own, and will learn to appreciate all walks of life, not just the ones who look and talk like her.
Shefina laughs as she watches me feed Danika her dinner and says that she's sure Danika's first word will be "tortilla".
I look at Danika and tell her that it better not be; Danika just smiles a toothy grin up at me and goes back to working on her banana.
Becoming Baptist?
Our candle lit beach church service was canceled on Saturday so Danika and I decided to go to Church with Danika's self-described Grammy on Sunday morning.
We arrived in the simple yet beautiful stone Baptist Church just as the congregation joined the choir in singing the opening hymn.
I can honestly say that I was blown away by the sound coming from the Church..but not in a good way.
Every person in the congregation seemed to have their own idea about what pitch the song should be sung in, and how fast the song should go. Not one person was singing on key or on beat. And everyone seemed to be trying to "outsing" their neighbor, so the "singing" actually sounded more like shouting.
Shefina (Danika's Grammy) began pounding her hand loudly on the wooden pew to keep the beat for the congregation, but nothing seemed to help. Danika looked up at me with a confused look as she had never heard anything like that before and then began to babble loudly along with everyone else. I laughed in my head at the thought of God sitting in Heaven cringing at the sound of his faithful praising him.
The rest of the service played out more like a conversation between the reverend and the congregation as people commented out loud whenever the Spirit moved them.
Danika of course never stopped babbling loudly, and decided she was going to pull the hair of every single person within reach of her stubby little fingers.
After the service was completed various people from the congregation wandered over to see who these strange white people were with Shefina, although most already knew us from seeing us around the island.
Slowly Danika and I are integrating ourselves into the culture. We are becoming less like visitors and more like islanders.
I am grateful for every new experience that Danika and I encounter and learn from, though I can definitely say that next Saturday Night will find us back in West End as Catholics.
We arrived in the simple yet beautiful stone Baptist Church just as the congregation joined the choir in singing the opening hymn.
I can honestly say that I was blown away by the sound coming from the Church..but not in a good way.
Every person in the congregation seemed to have their own idea about what pitch the song should be sung in, and how fast the song should go. Not one person was singing on key or on beat. And everyone seemed to be trying to "outsing" their neighbor, so the "singing" actually sounded more like shouting.
Shefina (Danika's Grammy) began pounding her hand loudly on the wooden pew to keep the beat for the congregation, but nothing seemed to help. Danika looked up at me with a confused look as she had never heard anything like that before and then began to babble loudly along with everyone else. I laughed in my head at the thought of God sitting in Heaven cringing at the sound of his faithful praising him.
The rest of the service played out more like a conversation between the reverend and the congregation as people commented out loud whenever the Spirit moved them.
Danika of course never stopped babbling loudly, and decided she was going to pull the hair of every single person within reach of her stubby little fingers.
After the service was completed various people from the congregation wandered over to see who these strange white people were with Shefina, although most already knew us from seeing us around the island.
Slowly Danika and I are integrating ourselves into the culture. We are becoming less like visitors and more like islanders.
I am grateful for every new experience that Danika and I encounter and learn from, though I can definitely say that next Saturday Night will find us back in West End as Catholics.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Becoming Catholic?
Danika and I had been down here for almost 4 weeks and had yet to properly thank the Lord for all that He has done to get us here and keep us safe. Feeling an overwhelming need to do so, I ventured out Saturday morning in search of a church that “spoke” to me.
Later that day we ended up down in West End at the beach when I saw an old wood sign that said ¨Saturday Mass 7 pm¨ and an arrow pointing up into the palm tree littered hill. I decided that there would be no better place to praise God than in the hills surrounded by beach and made plans to come back later that evening.
few hours later, sans sunlight, we found ourselves wandering around trying to find the sign again. (Turns out a small old wood sign hidden in with the trees is not the easiest thing to spot in the dark.) Finally we found it and followed the arrow faithfully. We walked for a ways and when I didn’t see a building or hear any music I decided that it must not be there anymore. Just as I was turning around something caught my eye, it was a beautiful cross that was lit up in the hill. I followed it and found a small group of people gathered in the moonlight surrounded by candles.
The stars illuminated the sky above us and the faint sound of waves crashing on the shore resignated in our ears.
It was the most beautiful church I had ever been to.
The service was presented by a Catholic Priest and was in Spanish. And yet I still felt the presence of the Lord more clearly than I ever had before.
Yet again another powerful lesson that I have learned since coming to Honduras.
Too often people think that the “church” is defined by the four walls that surround it. When we say that we are “going to church”, what we really mean is we are driving to a building where we will sit with a group of people that talk, look, and think just like us. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.
But as I received communion and knelt in the dirt with my daughter babbling along as I prayed, I felt the power of my surroundings, the power of the sermon that I barely understood and yet understood completely.
We ended the service singing “How Great Thou Art” in Spanish and Danika stared up at the candle lit cross as if she too felt the power pouring down from it and washing over us.
As I walked along the shore back to town with my daughter it dawned on me that the beauty of being a Christian is this: You can never ever run out of things to be thankful for.
Later that day we ended up down in West End at the beach when I saw an old wood sign that said ¨Saturday Mass 7 pm¨ and an arrow pointing up into the palm tree littered hill. I decided that there would be no better place to praise God than in the hills surrounded by beach and made plans to come back later that evening.
few hours later, sans sunlight, we found ourselves wandering around trying to find the sign again. (Turns out a small old wood sign hidden in with the trees is not the easiest thing to spot in the dark.) Finally we found it and followed the arrow faithfully. We walked for a ways and when I didn’t see a building or hear any music I decided that it must not be there anymore. Just as I was turning around something caught my eye, it was a beautiful cross that was lit up in the hill. I followed it and found a small group of people gathered in the moonlight surrounded by candles.
The stars illuminated the sky above us and the faint sound of waves crashing on the shore resignated in our ears.
It was the most beautiful church I had ever been to.
The service was presented by a Catholic Priest and was in Spanish. And yet I still felt the presence of the Lord more clearly than I ever had before.
Yet again another powerful lesson that I have learned since coming to Honduras.
Too often people think that the “church” is defined by the four walls that surround it. When we say that we are “going to church”, what we really mean is we are driving to a building where we will sit with a group of people that talk, look, and think just like us. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.
But as I received communion and knelt in the dirt with my daughter babbling along as I prayed, I felt the power of my surroundings, the power of the sermon that I barely understood and yet understood completely.
We ended the service singing “How Great Thou Art” in Spanish and Danika stared up at the candle lit cross as if she too felt the power pouring down from it and washing over us.
As I walked along the shore back to town with my daughter it dawned on me that the beauty of being a Christian is this: You can never ever run out of things to be thankful for.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Lessons My Daughter Has Taught Me
Danika turned 9 months old last week and she continues to amaze me with the way that she thinks. Sometimes I think she is wise beyond her months. I marvel in her innocence and always feel a little bit guilty about the fact that I’m 90% sure she has taught me more in 9 months than I feel I could possibly teach her in a lifetime (this I’m sure is a feeling that most first time parents can relate to).
This week Danika taught me the importance of contentment.
I have often contemplated if true contentment is ever really possible. In a world where we are always searching for something more, we are very rarely content with the place we are at, the money we are making, the people that surround us. We want more, more, more. And we have tricked ourselves into thinking that we actually need it to be happy. We can’t ever truly be content if we are always wondering, “What’s next?”
I watch Danika sit on the dirty wood floor in her diaper rolling a tiny piece of paper around and around in her fingers and realize that she has no concept of worth (in dollars anyways). Out of all of the toys that are sitting in front of her, she chooses a piece of paper. Her other favorite toy: a bottle of travel lotion that she will turn around moving from one hand to the next for as long as I let her. She sits on the floor amist dust, dirt, and various bugs, and looks up at me to show me her piece of paper as if she were sitting in a Royal Court with the Queen. She is completely and totally content.
She has taught me the main difference between children and adults is this: Children live in a world of pure contemplation. For them sights, sounds, and objects exist to be played with and enjoyed. For adults, sights, sounds, and objects exist solely to be used. We are dominated by responsibilities and therefore have lost the sense of contentment that we had when we were children.
Danika just recently learned how to clap. Now she claps for everything that she does, and everything that anyone else does. If you accomplish something, she will clap for you, and if she accomplishes something, she will clap for herself. How brilliant is that concept? She has figured out the balance of being happy for other people, while still being happy for yourself.
I am so proud of how well she has adjusted and adapted to her surroundings, and the loss of luxuries that she enjoyed so much just a short time ago. Yet she has never once felt sorry for herself here, she doesn’t even know how to. She is grateful for anything and everything you give her, even a little piece of paper. Her tubbies that used to be filled with warm water, bubbles, and bath toys, are now sometimes cold water out of a bucket in the back when the electricity goes out and I can’t heat up water on the stove. But she doesn’t mourn the loss of her “American” tubbies, she simply chooses to see it as a different opportunity for her to explore.
She catches her breath as I pour the cold water down her back and then squeals in excitement as she sees a family of chicks waddle past us.
I have searched my whole life for contentment, when all I have to do is spend one day looking at life through my daughter’s eyes.
This week Danika taught me the importance of contentment.
I have often contemplated if true contentment is ever really possible. In a world where we are always searching for something more, we are very rarely content with the place we are at, the money we are making, the people that surround us. We want more, more, more. And we have tricked ourselves into thinking that we actually need it to be happy. We can’t ever truly be content if we are always wondering, “What’s next?”
I watch Danika sit on the dirty wood floor in her diaper rolling a tiny piece of paper around and around in her fingers and realize that she has no concept of worth (in dollars anyways). Out of all of the toys that are sitting in front of her, she chooses a piece of paper. Her other favorite toy: a bottle of travel lotion that she will turn around moving from one hand to the next for as long as I let her. She sits on the floor amist dust, dirt, and various bugs, and looks up at me to show me her piece of paper as if she were sitting in a Royal Court with the Queen. She is completely and totally content.
She has taught me the main difference between children and adults is this: Children live in a world of pure contemplation. For them sights, sounds, and objects exist to be played with and enjoyed. For adults, sights, sounds, and objects exist solely to be used. We are dominated by responsibilities and therefore have lost the sense of contentment that we had when we were children.
Danika just recently learned how to clap. Now she claps for everything that she does, and everything that anyone else does. If you accomplish something, she will clap for you, and if she accomplishes something, she will clap for herself. How brilliant is that concept? She has figured out the balance of being happy for other people, while still being happy for yourself.
I am so proud of how well she has adjusted and adapted to her surroundings, and the loss of luxuries that she enjoyed so much just a short time ago. Yet she has never once felt sorry for herself here, she doesn’t even know how to. She is grateful for anything and everything you give her, even a little piece of paper. Her tubbies that used to be filled with warm water, bubbles, and bath toys, are now sometimes cold water out of a bucket in the back when the electricity goes out and I can’t heat up water on the stove. But she doesn’t mourn the loss of her “American” tubbies, she simply chooses to see it as a different opportunity for her to explore.
She catches her breath as I pour the cold water down her back and then squeals in excitement as she sees a family of chicks waddle past us.
I have searched my whole life for contentment, when all I have to do is spend one day looking at life through my daughter’s eyes.
God bless the Mayo Clinic
The last time I was in Honduras I was fortunate enough not to have to use any medical facilities. As fate would have it, this time I was not so lucky. Suffering from a pretty nasty pain for the past couple of days, I decided to drop Danika off at her self-described Ti-Ti’s (Honduran speak for Auntie), and venture off to the local clinic. I left at what I thought was an early hour and finally arrived at around 7:30am. The clinic, called “Ms. Peggy’s Clinica” is run by an American Doctor and a couple of Honduran nurses. I figured this was my best bet as I knew that she would speak and understand English as my Spanish is still not what it should be yet.
The clinic is a small building with three rooms; a waiting room, an exam room, and a bathroom. When I arrived I found the waiting room over filled with sick children, women, and men. I went up to the clipboard sitting on a desk and signed my name. I looked around to see if I needed to do anything else, but apparently a name on the list is all that is required. I found a spot against a wall and looked around taking in my surroundings. Next to me was a baby not more than 5 months old with an open sore on his back, a little girl next to me that was crying from a pain that wasn’t visible, and a man with a foot that looked like it was probably broken. No one spoke any English, all were poor farmers and market workers. I felt immediately as if I had no justification for being there with my measley stomach pain and my designer sunglasses. I gave a silent thank you to the Lord for once again humbling me, and decided it would be more insulting if I walked out than if I waited with everyone else.
6 hours later, I completely and totally regretted my decision.
Finally I was called in, “Cornie Lenoz?” (for some reason my name is incredibly difficult for Spanish speakers to pronounce). I asked the nurse where Ms. Peggy was, and she told me from what I could understand that I just missed her and would be seeing the local Spanish doctor instead.
¨Of course I am..¨ I said to myself.
Six and a half hours after I had arrived, I left with a bag of vitamins that I had no idea what they were for, and I had to laugh at how much I use to complain about waiting for my appointment at the Mayo Clinic.
As I waited by the roadside for the next chicken bus to pass by, I paused in the moment feeling completely overwhelmed at how beautiful my life is.
I love those moments…
The clinic is a small building with three rooms; a waiting room, an exam room, and a bathroom. When I arrived I found the waiting room over filled with sick children, women, and men. I went up to the clipboard sitting on a desk and signed my name. I looked around to see if I needed to do anything else, but apparently a name on the list is all that is required. I found a spot against a wall and looked around taking in my surroundings. Next to me was a baby not more than 5 months old with an open sore on his back, a little girl next to me that was crying from a pain that wasn’t visible, and a man with a foot that looked like it was probably broken. No one spoke any English, all were poor farmers and market workers. I felt immediately as if I had no justification for being there with my measley stomach pain and my designer sunglasses. I gave a silent thank you to the Lord for once again humbling me, and decided it would be more insulting if I walked out than if I waited with everyone else.
6 hours later, I completely and totally regretted my decision.
Finally I was called in, “Cornie Lenoz?” (for some reason my name is incredibly difficult for Spanish speakers to pronounce). I asked the nurse where Ms. Peggy was, and she told me from what I could understand that I just missed her and would be seeing the local Spanish doctor instead.
¨Of course I am..¨ I said to myself.
Six and a half hours after I had arrived, I left with a bag of vitamins that I had no idea what they were for, and I had to laugh at how much I use to complain about waiting for my appointment at the Mayo Clinic.
As I waited by the roadside for the next chicken bus to pass by, I paused in the moment feeling completely overwhelmed at how beautiful my life is.
I love those moments…
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Saying Goodbye again...
I have found that my life has always played itself out in exactly the right order with exactly the right timing. If I have learned one thing in my 24 years, it is to give up control and just let things happen as the Lord wills it. In going with that, it just so happened that the week it worked out for me to come down was also the exact week my best friend Sarah and her husband and daughter were traveling through Roatan on a 6 week trip through Central America.
We spent the week together basking in the sun on the beach and in each other’s company, and I wouldn’t have traded one single moment for anything in the world.
Sarah has been through so many stages with me, and seen the many different people that I have been and become. We both have watched and nurtured each other to the people that we are today. But for the most part our friendship has been one-sided. Sarah has always been a shoulder for me, a warm place for me to turn to, a home that has always been open for me at anytime. She has sacrificed and given more than any other friend I have and has asked for nothing in return. For me to finally be able to welcome her and her family in my new home was a highly anticipated and beautiful moment.
We talked about whether or not Paradise was a place, a moment, or an experience extensively; and I can say nothing more about that week except that it was true paradise. I would love to share every story, every memory, but it is impossible to describe the feeling of complete and total happiness.
Martin, Sarah, and Kiera: To say goodbye to you for a second time felt like more than saying goodbye to a family that has become like my own, it was like saying goodbye to a chapter of my life that for now has been closed. You have shown me what it is truly like to be vulnerable and be okay with it. I will never be able to show you in words or even actions how much love I possess for your family. You have truly become a part of me.
Thank you for showing me paradise…
To see pics from that week visit www.thesawinskis.com
We spent the week together basking in the sun on the beach and in each other’s company, and I wouldn’t have traded one single moment for anything in the world.
Sarah has been through so many stages with me, and seen the many different people that I have been and become. We both have watched and nurtured each other to the people that we are today. But for the most part our friendship has been one-sided. Sarah has always been a shoulder for me, a warm place for me to turn to, a home that has always been open for me at anytime. She has sacrificed and given more than any other friend I have and has asked for nothing in return. For me to finally be able to welcome her and her family in my new home was a highly anticipated and beautiful moment.
We talked about whether or not Paradise was a place, a moment, or an experience extensively; and I can say nothing more about that week except that it was true paradise. I would love to share every story, every memory, but it is impossible to describe the feeling of complete and total happiness.
Martin, Sarah, and Kiera: To say goodbye to you for a second time felt like more than saying goodbye to a family that has become like my own, it was like saying goodbye to a chapter of my life that for now has been closed. You have shown me what it is truly like to be vulnerable and be okay with it. I will never be able to show you in words or even actions how much love I possess for your family. You have truly become a part of me.
Thank you for showing me paradise…
To see pics from that week visit www.thesawinskis.com
THE INCOMPARABLE HONDURAN POLICE FORCE
I was hoping very seriously to go at least a few months before having a run in with one of Honduras’ many corruptions. Specifically the most powerful of them all: the Police. But alas, this was not to be as I only made it exactly 1 ½ weeks.
A friend had picked Danika and I up from West End (the “touristy” area of Roatan) after a day at the beach with the Sawinskis. We were driving home in the dark and were passed by a truck carrying 10 policemen with guns. In the States when a policemen passes you, you may feel a little twinge of panic until the car is safely out of sight, but for the most part if you did nothing wrong you can have faith in the fact that your life will not be affected. In Honduras, this is not the case. Not two seconds after the truck had passed us, it whipped around, raced in front of us and stopped abruptly, creating a road block. All 10 policemen jumped out of the truck and ran at us with guns pointing straight at us. I looked at my friend in complete panic and he told me to stay in the truck. Two policemen opened the driver side door and pulled my friend out and threw him on the ground, gun to his head. The police on my side were yelling in Spanish for me to “Get out of the truck! Get out of the truck!” I didn’t even have time to open the door before they whipped it open for me and pulled me out, Danika in my arms. My fear turned to anger as I struggled to find the words in Spanish to “get the gun away from my baby!” Instead it just came out “Mi hija Senor! Mi hija!” We spent the rest of the night being interrogated at the Police Station, the reason we were even pulled over still not known to us. The night ended with us finding a ride home after everything was compenscated, including Danika’s sippy cup.
Later we were both cleared of any “wrong doing” and our things returned to us. I would love to say that the chances of something like that happening again are one in a million, but unfortunately when you have a group of corrupt people who are then given power and control over the general public with virtually no repercussions for their actions, this is what you get.
To prove my point; the very next day my friend was street racing his motorcycle, and was pulled over by the police, and rightfully so. His way out of a ticket: he bought the officers beers at the next bar.
A friend had picked Danika and I up from West End (the “touristy” area of Roatan) after a day at the beach with the Sawinskis. We were driving home in the dark and were passed by a truck carrying 10 policemen with guns. In the States when a policemen passes you, you may feel a little twinge of panic until the car is safely out of sight, but for the most part if you did nothing wrong you can have faith in the fact that your life will not be affected. In Honduras, this is not the case. Not two seconds after the truck had passed us, it whipped around, raced in front of us and stopped abruptly, creating a road block. All 10 policemen jumped out of the truck and ran at us with guns pointing straight at us. I looked at my friend in complete panic and he told me to stay in the truck. Two policemen opened the driver side door and pulled my friend out and threw him on the ground, gun to his head. The police on my side were yelling in Spanish for me to “Get out of the truck! Get out of the truck!” I didn’t even have time to open the door before they whipped it open for me and pulled me out, Danika in my arms. My fear turned to anger as I struggled to find the words in Spanish to “get the gun away from my baby!” Instead it just came out “Mi hija Senor! Mi hija!” We spent the rest of the night being interrogated at the Police Station, the reason we were even pulled over still not known to us. The night ended with us finding a ride home after everything was compenscated, including Danika’s sippy cup.
Later we were both cleared of any “wrong doing” and our things returned to us. I would love to say that the chances of something like that happening again are one in a million, but unfortunately when you have a group of corrupt people who are then given power and control over the general public with virtually no repercussions for their actions, this is what you get.
To prove my point; the very next day my friend was street racing his motorcycle, and was pulled over by the police, and rightfully so. His way out of a ticket: he bought the officers beers at the next bar.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
BATHING BY BUCKET: BACK TO THE BASICS
When I asked him if there was any special tricks to the shower, he laughed and replied, “Yeah, see that bucket of water? Start bailing”.
After the initial shock, I am now completely convinced that I was born to bathe by bucket, to peel clothes off when the electricity cuts (almost everyday) and the fan goes off, to throw my toilet paper in the basket instead of the bowl because the septic system isn’t strong enough, to collect rain water when the faucet turns off, to heat water by stove to bathe my daughter at night, to try and avoid one of the many palm sized spiders that reside in the house, to bargain for dinner at the market, to ride a chicken bus filled with 15 too many people with my daughter sitting not in a carseat but happily in my lap.
I have finally learned to find luxury in simplicity.
When I asked him if there was any special tricks to the shower, he laughed and replied, “Yeah, see that bucket of water? Start bailing”.
After the initial shock, I am now completely convinced that I was born to bathe by bucket, to peel clothes off when the electricity cuts (almost everyday) and the fan goes off, to throw my toilet paper in the basket instead of the bowl because the septic system isn’t strong enough, to collect rain water when the faucet turns off, to heat water by stove to bathe my daughter at night, to try and avoid one of the many palm sized spiders that reside in the house, to bargain for dinner at the market, to ride a chicken bus filled with 15 too many people with my daughter sitting not in a carseat but happily in my lap.
I have finally learned to find luxury in simplicity.
HERE WE GO AGAIN…
As soon as I heard the jumbled English/Creo voice yelling, “You wit de baby, Ay! You wit de baby, I got you okay?” as I’m standing in a line of 100 something people sweating all of my carefully applied makeup and laughing at the fact that I even attempted to reapply deodrant, I knew that this was if nothing else, definitely going to be an adventure.
So here I am, with my 8 suitcases of “everything I own” and a baby that doesn’t want to sit in her stroller running through all of the reasons that this was a good idea through my head for the millionith time. (Somehow the more times you say it, the more convincing it is). The man turned out to be someone had been hired to help me with my luggage, and I felt an instant reassurance that everything would somehow be okay. I looked around taking in the irony that I felt more at place admist the Honduran hustlers trying to make a few bucks helping tourists with their luggage, than the plane ride full of upper class white Americans complaining that there “better be air-conditioning in our hotel” with their polo shirts and matching straw hats.
A half hour later, luggage in tow, I crossed the point of no return and officially stepped out into the country that was to now be my home for as long as we could stand each other. It is such a different feeling to look at a place from the perspective of a “resident” than a tourist. Instead of looking for the cheapest beer, I am looking for the cheapest nanny. Instead looking for a hostel that’s close to the beach, I’m looking for an apartment with running water. There was an instant connection between Honduras and I last time around, and although it had been over 2 years my heart lept across the gap as if a moment hadn’t passed between us. Like a long lost lover reunited, I hoped and prayed that Danika would develop a relationship with this beautiful place as I had.
The next few days go by in a blur as I struggle to transition from American-visitor to American-“why would you leave all of that for this?” (The most popular question I get when any topic revolving around money, the economy, employment, schooling, air conditioning, running water, men, or honey comes up). I watch Danika carefully as the realization that this isn’t just a vacation starts to set in, and wish she could express in words what she feels when she looks at me. I ask her at least a thousand times a day, “Do you like it here? Do you want to stay?” as if she will answer me. She just looks at me and smiles like the angel she is. I crave the intense confindence that comes from exploring by yourself, but am rooted in one spot for now as I wait for “life” to begin in the form of employment, an apartment, a nanny, etc. (It’s funny to me that I left the States to get away from being sucked into the trap of a meaningless 9-5 and missing my daughter’s life only to come here and anxiously await the day when I start a 9-5 and find a nanny). I am so grateful for kindness of those who know almost nothing about me, but have taken me into their homes and hearts regardless. I battle daily with the want to be independent and do things for myself and the need to slow down and enjoy each moment as it comes.
On the 4th day I finally I make it back to the place where this great love affair with Honduras began: the beach. West Bay may easily be the most beautiful place that I have ever seen, and I fell back in love in an instant. This day would also mark the first time that I truly forgave myself for taking Danika away from her family and her home and bringing her to such a different and foriegn environment. She squealed with delight at the water and kicked her feet furiously, fussing when I took her out of the water after 3 hours of playing. She smiled and flirted with every stranger that would dare look her way, and looked at me with complete and total love and trust in her eyes. She was happy. I took in the moment of the sun going down over the clear, green, Carribbean Sea as my daughter, my life, sipped on her coconut water and played in the sand. And after a year and a half, my heart was still.
As soon as I heard the jumbled English/Creo voice yelling, “You wit de baby, Ay! You wit de baby, I got you okay?” as I’m standing in a line of 100 something people sweating all of my carefully applied makeup and laughing at the fact that I even attempted to reapply deodrant, I knew that this was if nothing else, definitely going to be an adventure.
So here I am, with my 8 suitcases of “everything I own” and a baby that doesn’t want to sit in her stroller running through all of the reasons that this was a good idea through my head for the millionith time. (Somehow the more times you say it, the more convincing it is). The man turned out to be someone had been hired to help me with my luggage, and I felt an instant reassurance that everything would somehow be okay. I looked around taking in the irony that I felt more at place admist the Honduran hustlers trying to make a few bucks helping tourists with their luggage, than the plane ride full of upper class white Americans complaining that there “better be air-conditioning in our hotel” with their polo shirts and matching straw hats.
A half hour later, luggage in tow, I crossed the point of no return and officially stepped out into the country that was to now be my home for as long as we could stand each other. It is such a different feeling to look at a place from the perspective of a “resident” than a tourist. Instead of looking for the cheapest beer, I am looking for the cheapest nanny. Instead looking for a hostel that’s close to the beach, I’m looking for an apartment with running water. There was an instant connection between Honduras and I last time around, and although it had been over 2 years my heart lept across the gap as if a moment hadn’t passed between us. Like a long lost lover reunited, I hoped and prayed that Danika would develop a relationship with this beautiful place as I had.
The next few days go by in a blur as I struggle to transition from American-visitor to American-“why would you leave all of that for this?” (The most popular question I get when any topic revolving around money, the economy, employment, schooling, air conditioning, running water, men, or honey comes up). I watch Danika carefully as the realization that this isn’t just a vacation starts to set in, and wish she could express in words what she feels when she looks at me. I ask her at least a thousand times a day, “Do you like it here? Do you want to stay?” as if she will answer me. She just looks at me and smiles like the angel she is. I crave the intense confindence that comes from exploring by yourself, but am rooted in one spot for now as I wait for “life” to begin in the form of employment, an apartment, a nanny, etc. (It’s funny to me that I left the States to get away from being sucked into the trap of a meaningless 9-5 and missing my daughter’s life only to come here and anxiously await the day when I start a 9-5 and find a nanny). I am so grateful for kindness of those who know almost nothing about me, but have taken me into their homes and hearts regardless. I battle daily with the want to be independent and do things for myself and the need to slow down and enjoy each moment as it comes.
On the 4th day I finally I make it back to the place where this great love affair with Honduras began: the beach. West Bay may easily be the most beautiful place that I have ever seen, and I fell back in love in an instant. This day would also mark the first time that I truly forgave myself for taking Danika away from her family and her home and bringing her to such a different and foriegn environment. She squealed with delight at the water and kicked her feet furiously, fussing when I took her out of the water after 3 hours of playing. She smiled and flirted with every stranger that would dare look her way, and looked at me with complete and total love and trust in her eyes. She was happy. I took in the moment of the sun going down over the clear, green, Carribbean Sea as my daughter, my life, sipped on her coconut water and played in the sand. And after a year and a half, my heart was still.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Here we go again
Hey all!
Sorry so long for an update, I have been recording all of our adventures on my laptop, but haven't had internet connection. I stopped at a little internet cafe by the beach just to let everyone know that we are alive and well. Danika has found herself here, and really shown her personality. Guess she was always an island girl at heart :)
I have fell back in love with this place all over again, and although it has been almost 3 years, my heart has lept across the gap as if we never left. It has been amazing, and to watch Danika play with the kids here makes my heart weep with joy. Neither one understands yet that there is a language barrier (most people only speak Spanish here) and play with each other in giggles and noises. She has been exposed to so much culture and learned so much already. I truly have seen the work that the Lord is capable of.
I have more to say, but unfortunately no time to say it right now. I will update more thoroughly when I get internet connection.
I love you all.
Life is SOOOO good.
Sorry so long for an update, I have been recording all of our adventures on my laptop, but haven't had internet connection. I stopped at a little internet cafe by the beach just to let everyone know that we are alive and well. Danika has found herself here, and really shown her personality. Guess she was always an island girl at heart :)
I have fell back in love with this place all over again, and although it has been almost 3 years, my heart has lept across the gap as if we never left. It has been amazing, and to watch Danika play with the kids here makes my heart weep with joy. Neither one understands yet that there is a language barrier (most people only speak Spanish here) and play with each other in giggles and noises. She has been exposed to so much culture and learned so much already. I truly have seen the work that the Lord is capable of.
I have more to say, but unfortunately no time to say it right now. I will update more thoroughly when I get internet connection.
I love you all.
Life is SOOOO good.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
I've never been that Good at Goodbyes...
I've never really been one for emotional conversations, and I'm absolutely horrid at goodbyes.
So at the risk of being a coward, I decided to tell the people who mean the most to me how I feel in the most impersonal way...via blog. To those I have listed, please forgive me. To those I forgot, please forgive me twice.
Lisa and the Zamzows: Thank you for loving Danika so much. You are truly irreplaceable.
Ben: I hope that you find whatever it is that will make your heart content. You will always be my "best friend". Miles cannot compete with the love I have for you. We have been through it all it seems, and still keep going strong. Never lose your swagger. :)
Deanna: Please take care of yourself, you are worth so much more than you know. I hope that the rest of the world can see what I have seen. You are a beautiful, talented, wonderful young woman. Don't let anyone take that away from you.
Jen: I don't even know where to start. You are my rock, sister. I am so proud of you and your journey, the United States just isn't big enough for people like you. Africa will never be the same once you're done with them.
Sarah: You are my inspiration, my shoulder, and my companion. Your family will always have a home with me, as you have shown me that there is no country where your love doesn't reach. I love you so much, and cherish all the chapters we have already written together.
Paul: I heard every word you said, and more importantly, every word you didn't say. I hope that you receive all that you deserve, and most of all, I hope for one more try. You have no idea all that you have taught me. I have never for a day not felt like a queen with you. Don't lose yourself in the quest to find what you are looking for.
Heather: You have known every single person that I have ever been, and still love me. Your loyalty to me and our friendship as been astounding. You never fail to amaze me with your unwaivering faith in the person that you are, and are meant to be. I hope with all my heart that our paths will cross in the near future.
Quinisha, Heather, and Sonia: You ladies have been my main girls for the past year. You were all there for a very vulnerable part of my life, and there as I grew back into the person that I was meant to be. You all have a home with me whenever you want to cash in the offer. It has been an honor to be in the presence of three of the strongest females that I have known. You came into my life at exactly the right moment, and each taught me exactly the right lesson that I needed to learn. I am in your corner always.
Tonya: My baby sister...where to start. I would like to say that you are more of a friend than a sister, but I think that would take away from the depth of us. We are sisters, and no one can ever touch that. I love you so much and wish that I could take on all that you are, but I have faith in you and can't wait for the day when you see the person that I see. You are in control of your own destiny Ton, so take the wheel.
Mom and Dad: You will never know how hard it was to walk away from you in the airport. You have supported every decision that I have made, and even the decisions that made me. Most importantly, you have ALWAYS allowed me to be me, you have never tried to change the person that I am. You have loved me through all of my stages, and phases. You accepted the people that I have brought into my life, and let me learn my own lessons, all while standing in my corner. The past year and some months have been amazing, I don't regret or feel ashamed for a single day. You have taken on the role of Grandma and Grandpa, and made it into something even more special than the name itself. You have meant everything to Danika and I, and the fact that I have the strength and courage to take on the world and go on a journey such as this shows you what great parents you are. To have a child who is not afraid to experience life is the highest compliment you can receive as a parent because that child knows no matter what they can always come back. Thank you for always letting me come back...
I love you both a hundred thousand times more than I tell you.
To the rest of my family: I love you all and thank you for supporting my journey. The Lord's Kingdom is vast and wide, I have seen such an amazing corner of it, and now I can't wait to see the rest. I will be back, but until then, please keep us in your thoughts and prayers, as you will be in mine.
All of you have contributed in your own way to my journey thus far. I can only hope that I have meant a fraction to you as what you have meant to me.
Life is good.
So at the risk of being a coward, I decided to tell the people who mean the most to me how I feel in the most impersonal way...via blog. To those I have listed, please forgive me. To those I forgot, please forgive me twice.
Lisa and the Zamzows: Thank you for loving Danika so much. You are truly irreplaceable.
Ben: I hope that you find whatever it is that will make your heart content. You will always be my "best friend". Miles cannot compete with the love I have for you. We have been through it all it seems, and still keep going strong. Never lose your swagger. :)
Deanna: Please take care of yourself, you are worth so much more than you know. I hope that the rest of the world can see what I have seen. You are a beautiful, talented, wonderful young woman. Don't let anyone take that away from you.
Jen: I don't even know where to start. You are my rock, sister. I am so proud of you and your journey, the United States just isn't big enough for people like you. Africa will never be the same once you're done with them.
Sarah: You are my inspiration, my shoulder, and my companion. Your family will always have a home with me, as you have shown me that there is no country where your love doesn't reach. I love you so much, and cherish all the chapters we have already written together.
Paul: I heard every word you said, and more importantly, every word you didn't say. I hope that you receive all that you deserve, and most of all, I hope for one more try. You have no idea all that you have taught me. I have never for a day not felt like a queen with you. Don't lose yourself in the quest to find what you are looking for.
Heather: You have known every single person that I have ever been, and still love me. Your loyalty to me and our friendship as been astounding. You never fail to amaze me with your unwaivering faith in the person that you are, and are meant to be. I hope with all my heart that our paths will cross in the near future.
Quinisha, Heather, and Sonia: You ladies have been my main girls for the past year. You were all there for a very vulnerable part of my life, and there as I grew back into the person that I was meant to be. You all have a home with me whenever you want to cash in the offer. It has been an honor to be in the presence of three of the strongest females that I have known. You came into my life at exactly the right moment, and each taught me exactly the right lesson that I needed to learn. I am in your corner always.
Tonya: My baby sister...where to start. I would like to say that you are more of a friend than a sister, but I think that would take away from the depth of us. We are sisters, and no one can ever touch that. I love you so much and wish that I could take on all that you are, but I have faith in you and can't wait for the day when you see the person that I see. You are in control of your own destiny Ton, so take the wheel.
Mom and Dad: You will never know how hard it was to walk away from you in the airport. You have supported every decision that I have made, and even the decisions that made me. Most importantly, you have ALWAYS allowed me to be me, you have never tried to change the person that I am. You have loved me through all of my stages, and phases. You accepted the people that I have brought into my life, and let me learn my own lessons, all while standing in my corner. The past year and some months have been amazing, I don't regret or feel ashamed for a single day. You have taken on the role of Grandma and Grandpa, and made it into something even more special than the name itself. You have meant everything to Danika and I, and the fact that I have the strength and courage to take on the world and go on a journey such as this shows you what great parents you are. To have a child who is not afraid to experience life is the highest compliment you can receive as a parent because that child knows no matter what they can always come back. Thank you for always letting me come back...
I love you both a hundred thousand times more than I tell you.
To the rest of my family: I love you all and thank you for supporting my journey. The Lord's Kingdom is vast and wide, I have seen such an amazing corner of it, and now I can't wait to see the rest. I will be back, but until then, please keep us in your thoughts and prayers, as you will be in mine.
All of you have contributed in your own way to my journey thus far. I can only hope that I have meant a fraction to you as what you have meant to me.
Life is good.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
On another Adventure of a Lifetime and hoping not to get sprayed by a posionous frog this time...
I have decided that there is nothing more freeing, nor more vulnerable, than selling your possessions and moving to a third world country.
I woke up one morning and felt completely suffocated by the life that I was creating for my then 6 month old daughter. Full of things, and devoid of any real culture or depth, I knew that it was my duty as her keeper to change all of that. While most people would probably just buy their child a book or a video explaining how there are "all different kinds of people in the World", I tend to air on the side of extreme, and thought "Why don't I just show her?"
So off we go on an adventure of a lifetime to Roatan, Honduras, possibly the most beautiful place that I have ever seen in my life. (Hey, if you're going to move to a third world country, why not make it a Caribbean island??)
We leave April 6th, and I will surely spend the next two weeks wondering what the hell I am dragging my 8 month old into....
I woke up one morning and felt completely suffocated by the life that I was creating for my then 6 month old daughter. Full of things, and devoid of any real culture or depth, I knew that it was my duty as her keeper to change all of that. While most people would probably just buy their child a book or a video explaining how there are "all different kinds of people in the World", I tend to air on the side of extreme, and thought "Why don't I just show her?"
So off we go on an adventure of a lifetime to Roatan, Honduras, possibly the most beautiful place that I have ever seen in my life. (Hey, if you're going to move to a third world country, why not make it a Caribbean island??)
We leave April 6th, and I will surely spend the next two weeks wondering what the hell I am dragging my 8 month old into....
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