When I saw Marcos wearing this shirt this morning everything in me wanted to play the Mennonite Game with him and ask which Hunziker's he knew.
Then I remembered that I was in Honduras.
Here Mennonite names aren't Yoder, Smucker and Kolb but rather Velasquez, Lacayo and Green.
Lauro turned 15 the other day - I really can't believe that I met him when he was yet 11. We had a very private celebration at Maureen's house, just he, she and I..and some Tres Leches cake. Lauro is not into public displays of thoughtfulness but he very much needs attention and acknowledgement - this was perfect for him.
Lauro is an enigma, he is at once sweet and affectionate, compassionate and generous yet also easily angered, jealous, rebellious, and knows how to hold a grudge. His life has been one of rejection; his mother repeatedly abandoned them through the course of his childhood, leaving the family to beg for food from other families in the community while she shacked up with other men in Laureles. She finally left them for good when Lauro was 9, moving to the other side of the country with another man. Lauro then was a raised by his father until he got a new wife who in due time let it be known that she had no interest in raising another woman's sons. Lauro'…
Greetings all from Blistering Honduras,
I trust this finds you well and enjoying the beauty and wonder that is
Spring in North America. We don’t have Spring in Honduras we have heat waves,
blistering, incessant, inescapable heat waves – they’re not nearly as beauteous
or wondrous, let me assure you. That little weather tidbit aside though life
here in Honduras has quickly gotten back to normal – it’s been a little over a
month now that I’ve been back after a 4 month break and I’ve been surprised and
relieved at how smooth the transition has been. This then is my May update
relating the events of the previous month, specifically as it relates to the
transition back into life and ministry here. The Big Move Out
A lot has changed from last year, principally my living situation - I no
longer live in Los Laureles but rather am back living in the apartment I was in
for my first 3 years in Honduras. This has been a truly mixed-bag of emotions;
we (EMM) still have the home in Los L…
This past Tuesday, May 1st, as I'm sure you all know, was the International Day of the Worker, that "cherry on top" of heady 19th Century Socialism and the reforms that it extracted from weak and ineffectual politicians, mostly of the European variety. If you have no idea as to what I am talking about it may be because the day was never anything more than an empty symbol, a kind of "finger in the eye" to all those Capitalist Fatcats, who apparently, by virtue of being succesful, aren't workers.
The day was originally intended to be an international holiday for all those unsuccesful-types i.e. workers, to commemorate the brave socialist martyrs that had gone on before and to rally for more workers' rights (is that noble task ever really over?); but it never quite worked out as such. Those of you living in the U.S.A. have never celebrated an international-style workers' fiesta on May 1st because 120 years ago old Grover Cleveland, in not wanting to g…