Caitlyn, we haven’t heard from you? Where are you at?

Well, to be honest there’s not really WIFI on top of the mountains in Comayagua, Honduras to update y’all. Yup, you read that right! For the last week, I have been building a community center and a church on top of a mountain. It’s been a beautiful experience; there’s something so honoring about building a house for the Lord. When we arrived, we were met with the foundation that H Squad had laid not even a couple months before. Now, my squad has begun building on top of that foundation. Even though we don’t have a lot of experience with construction, the Lord has definitely been growing us, both together in unity and individually.

How’s He growing me, you ask?

For the first time in my life, I find myself at a loss for words. I’ve been in Honduras for a week already and from day one, the Lord has been moving. It’s been hard, if I can be honest. He’s growing me in so many ways that I didn’t even know were possible, ways that I didn’t even want to grow in the first place. Since launch, I lived with the false notion that I could get through the Race without getting too attached to people-- locals at least. I knew I would get used to my friends, but I was not ready for what the Lord had for me this month.

Between Guatemala and Honduras, our squad had a week-long debrief in Antigua. It was during that week that the Lord convicted me. He told me I had no compassion. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I realized that He was right; I had gone a whole month in Guatemala without having my heart broken once. In Mixco, poverty was everywhere, but still I struggled to feel bad. I knew my heart should have been breaking but it wouldn’t. When I brought this conviction to my mentor, she told me to pray for compassion, that the Lord would give it to me. The thing is, if you pray for something, you better make sure you’re actually prepared to receive it.

Within one day of being in Honduras, my heart shattered. I can’t even describe the emotions I was feeling then or still to this day. So, instead of trying to recount my experience and butchering it in the long run, I’ll just share the poem I wrote.

Sore Shoulders

For two and a half hours,

I carried logs.

Dirt-caked two by fours

cut from a fallen tree

dug into my shoulders,

a set of dumbbells

with fives on each side

pressing my feet into thick clay. 

For two kilometers,

I walked beside you,

huffing to you questions

in Spanish:

¿Quieres quedar

en Honduras

o viajar?

You told me

you work to survive,

you couldn’t travel.

But, if you could,

you would got to the States,

maybe visit your Uncles

in Nueva York.

At dinner, my shoulders ached;

I hope for once

yours did not.

Despite my heavy heart, I rest in the fact that the Lord is working. He’s doing big things in Honduras, and I can’t wait to see the rest of His plan for Comayagua. Please keep me and my squad in your prayers, I love and miss you all!