Before we left Honduras, a friend of ours, Jamie Kutter (kutterbutter.com), took some photos at El Picacho. In spite of the fact that Colin and I don't do the "romantic" pose very well, she found us...and gave us beautiful pictures to remember our year with Dunnivan in his "homeland."
We've been home in Tennesse for almost three weeks. This has been unlike our previous summers in this way: we're staying! But with that comes some strange transitions. So far, I still feel sort of like an alien around town. Spanish phrases slip out without thinking. I'm overwhelmed by all the choices that I can have on a visit to the local grocery store (and they restock regularly!). I feel a little out of place, like people can tell I haven't been in town long. And my son says "Hola!" to everyone he sees (they probably think I'm "one of those" parents torturing their child to learn two languages at once...gotta admit, I wish Dunn would keep his two favorite Spanish words--the other being "agua"). Plus, I'm still getting used to seeing the American dollar. And they go so quick!
We've spent most of the time decompressing at my in-laws home. They're really wonderful. And then, we've spent the latter part of our "waiting" period at my parents--which has been filled with lots of "agua" and swinging. We move to Clarksville, TN this coming weekend. I'm soooo ready to get started on the real settling in. I can't wait to be a part of our new community, our new little neighborhood friends, and our new little world here in the States. We've missed home.
But I know the loss of leaving Honduras will hit me soon enough. I haven't really let it seep in yet. I guess I'm just ready to GET STARTED. And then I think I'll be able to say goodbye....
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| Dunn on the slide at the Thomas's birthday shindig |
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| The cousins--Dunn and Nate |
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| Our future casa--home sweet home |
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| Our favorite Ciseron (renowned Honduran painter) with the Honduran national bird (not really, but roosters worked their way into quite a few of our best memories) |
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| A little coffee table made by Guatamaltecos |
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| Cypress wine rack |
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| We got a couple paintings framed while we were at it (she's making tortillas) |
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| Fancy bench--fer sittin' |
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one of a pair of nightstands
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| And, of course, Dunnivan is our most priceless Honduran treasure! |
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| But...he didn't quite fit in a box. |
I don't like goodbyes. We haven't officially started them yet, but I feel that they're in the air. 35 days folks and we're stateside--residing in Clarksville, TN just outside of Nashville. As I look around this city we've lived in the last three years, there are definitely many things I'm gonna miss. The vibrant flowers, the gorditas selling their homemade pupusas on the corner, the kisses that come with every greeting, the view of the gorgeous mountains we see every morning, the lovely Honduran people, the birds whose songs can be heard even amidst the city sounds...
And then there's some things I'm more than happy to leave. For beginners, I can't wait to go to public bathrooms where toilet paper is flushed rather then collected in a trashcan beside the toilet. And I won't miss the sounds of the motorcycles ripping past our apartment at midnight. Can't say I'll miss doing all my business transactions in Spanish, either. After three years, I don't feel that I'm much better than a first grader in my Spanish--which our friends find endearing, but every one else? They're probably like us Americans when someone can't speak our language: "What are you doing here, stupid gringa? Learn the language, you idiot." But alas, 35 days doesn't lend me much time to refine my crass tongue.
Besides those things that we'll miss and those we won't, these three years have taught us more than we even imagined when we signed on that dotted lined at the job fair. Those lessons we can't and won't leave behind. They travel with us. And even though some of the experiences we've had here felt like sheer torture, the fruits of the trials leave us hopeful. God has been faithful and good. Through him, we've been able to persevere through great illness, the loss of our first baby (and the beautiful gift of our second), the loneliness, the struggles of a church, the frustrations of our jobs, and life amidst the tragedies of this struggling little nation. Through the ongoing work of Christ in our lives, we truly have peace. The only peace that can be found. And because of this, I can still sing like those little birds trapped (or is it their choice?) in this city. Only I get to fly away in just a short bit and sing new songs in new places for his glory.
