Although we've been on the mission field for six years now, I doubt we'll ever get used to the rampant theft that comes with life in a third-world country.

Our team has been robbed of both major items (The Goinses have had a vehicle stolen, and their house was broken into while they were on furlough.) and minor ones (packages, books, cell phones, stroller, etc.).

We all have installed a security device called a Mul-T-Lock on our vehicles.

When I park my car, I remove the long rod from its holder and insert it into the slot, sliding it across the gear shift, locking the vehicle into "park."



Robbie's truck is a stick-shift, so the device works a little differently. His u-shaped lock hooks around the shifter and secures it in "reverse." If someone stole his truck, they'd have to make their getaway backwards!



Any attempt to cut through the lock automatically disables the engine. This Israeli technology is very effective and has become popular in countries with high rates of auto theft. Unless you have the specially-designed key, cars with Mul-T-Locks are very difficult to steal.



Yesterday, a thief broke into the Goinses' car while we were eating lunch and was apparently deterred by the Mul-T-Lock. He decided to grab what he could; Dallita returned to the car to find the lock broken and her church bag gone. What was inside was of no value to the thief, but it was a great loss for Dallita. Her Bible, journal, and music books were inside. Good music is hard to find in Honduras, and she'd worked hard to accumulate several good piano, chorus, and hymn books for the music ministry over the past few years. Many were purchased in the States and will be impossible to quickly replace.

I'm so thankful the Lord has placed His own "Mul-T-Lock" on our joy. A thief can take our music, but he can't touch the song in our hearts. We are here to serve Him. It's natural to feel discouraged and wonder why the Lord would allow something like this to happen to someone who is busy serving Him. But that temporary discouragement gives way to peace, knowing He is in control and sees the big picture.

But let all those that put their trust in thee rejoice: let them ever shout for joy, because thou defendest them: let them also that love thy name be joyful in thee. -Psalm 5:11

¡Guao! ¡Qué blanquita sos, Hermana Cristina! Wow, you are so white, Sister Christine!” My face burned as I looked in horror at the lady who had just commented on my ghostly pallor. And I had been so proud of the tan I’d been getting from Saturday Bible Clubs in the tropical sun! I couldn’t believe she’d be so rude!


After a few months on the field, I realized that the Hondurans thought they were complimenting me on my pale skin! Dark skin here is indicative of lower class people (many of Mayan descent) who live in the mountains. Those with more Spanish and European blood are taller and lighter skinned. In Honduras, fair skin is desired! When I realized how the ladies coveted fair skin, I described to them how American women spend a lot of money on tanning beds and creams just to obtain a lovely brown complexion. I told them that the prettiest, most popular girl in my class in middle school was of Latin descent. All the other girls admired her jet black hair and bronze skin tone. The Honduran women just looked at me like I was crazy—tanning on purpose?


When Claire was born, the ladies oohed and aahed over her blonde curls and blue eyes. I was constantly stopped in the grocery store by women wanting to know what kind of shampoo I used on her hair, as if that made the difference. After numerous unsuccessful attempts to explain genetics, I finally started answering, “Johnson’s.” It was much easier that way!


One teen in our church refused to believe that Claire was Honduran just as she was. No matter how many times I explained to her that Claire was born in Honduras and had citizenship, she said, “No, she had to born in the USA!” I described which hospital I delivered in and told her that I certainly didn’t return to the States to have my daughter. Finally the girl cried in exasperation, “Well, then how did she come out so WHITE, then?”


We laughingly told these stories later, but not all racial comments we’ve heard here have been so innocent. I’m not sure why, but somehow I’d always viewed racism as an American issue. I thought that living in another country, we’d never experience racial tension. Surely we’d never hear racial slurs or offensive jokes once we left. I was dead wrong.


Racism is not an American problem; it’s a mankind problem. Discrimination is rampant in all cultures, because of man’s sinful nature.


I recently read that perhaps one reason God chose to create different races and cultures was to accomplish His goal of creating man “in His image.” Just one man or one culture would greatly limit the reflection of our Lord. Instead, He made people of many colors, shapes, and sizes. He created an amazing spectrum of races and cultures to give us a multi-dimensional glimpse of Himself. If this is true, then racism is a most offensive sin, because it is a rejection of the prismatic nature of God Himself. There are certainly sinful cultural practices that the Christian should never overlook in the name of “multiculturalism”; but the inverse is also true. There is beauty and uniqueness in each culture that points us to the profound nature of our Creator.

I’m so thankful for the church that the Lord has given us, made up of precious souls from different classes, races, and cultures.


And they sung a new song, saying, Thou… wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation. -Revelation 5:9



Enjoy a few pictures taken at our Valentine's Banquet on Friday night. We are very thankful for the couples of our church!

Any missionary can tell you one of the questions we are asked most when we return to the United States is, "What's the strangest thing you've ever eaten?" I've eaten some pretty odd things (i.e. cow stomach soup), but iguana has to be at the top of my list! So here's a story in pictures! Enjoy!

The hunt begins!



Something's crawling around in that tree!



Can you spot our dinner?



Got one!


The mighty hunter returns!



They caught this one alive!


Cleaning the meat


You'll need vegetable oil, chicken bouillon, water, milk, onion, garlic, and lots and lots of fresh cilantro!


Admit it...this looks pretty good!


Who needs turkey??? Iguana--it's the other white meat.

The yelps and barks from the side yard startled me, and the dish I'd been washing dropped into the sink. I peered out the window in time to see a Honduran woman on the other side of our chain link side fence stoop down, grab a rock, and hurl it at Roxy, our two year-old Rottweiler. Drying my hands on my apron, I flew out the side door and called out, "Stop throwing rocks! She can't hurt you!" The fact that our guard dog couldn't possibly leap over the seven-foot fence seemed to have escaped the woman, who continued to hurl rocks as fast as she could grab them. Roxy dodged the rocks and continued to bark furiously.

I grabbed Roxy by the collar and tried to no avail to drag her away from the fence. "Lady! Stop throwing rocks! She's not doing anything to you!" Now the rocks started coming in my direction!

Robbie had been collecting fruit from the cashew tree in the back yard. Hearing the commotion, he started walking toward the fence. He was surprised to see his apron-clad wife yelling at a small woman, chasing the dog in circles, and dodging rocks right and left. My attacker had not slowed in the least. As she continued to hurl rocks, the grimy dress she was wearing began to creep down to her waist. Robbie was almost doubled over laughing at the sight of me being pummeled by a half-naked, angry woman. He heard me yell, "Stop throwing rocks! And, good grief, pull your DRESS up!"

He helped me drag Roxy to the other side of the yard, and admonished me, "Chris, she's not all there, babe."

"What do you mean?" I looked a little more closely at my attacker. I felt my face grow hot as reality sank in. I had been yelling at a mentally challenged person. The poor woman had probably been frightened to death by our dog's barks and hadn't realized Roxy couldn't get to her. She obviously didn't understand what was going on at all. I had seen her as the aggressor and instantly made the situation worse by yelling. I ran to her to calm her down and apologize for my behavior.


Unfortunately, this isn't the only time I've been guilty of misjudging a person. Many times I focus on the rocks being hurled at me, failing to look beyond them at the hurt, the fear, the misunderstanding on the other side of the fence. I take things personally, I jump to conclusions, I preach my opinion. How many times have I stopped to ask questions? To try to see the situation from another's point of view? To show compassion?

I've got learn to shut my mouth and look past the rocks.

Much learning does not teach understanding. -Heraclitus

Goodbyes, a plane ride,
My life’s in a crate;
New land, strange place,
My stomach’s got an ache…

¿Como está, señor?
What did he say?
Mas lento, por favor,
A hundred times a day.

Concrete walls,
And tile on the floor
Tiny geckos scamper
Behind a cupboard door.

Tropical sun,
My coke’s in a bag,
Sitting on a porch
Where time seems to drag.

Crowding in a bank line,
Praying for grace,
These people don’t know about
My personal space.

Brown tap water
Makes your belly reel.
Trip to the pharmacy,
Parasite pill.

Man beside the road
Stabbed with a knife,
No one cares to cover up,
Forgotten life.

Late night music
From the party down the street
Put a pillow on your head,
Walls shaking to the beat.

Civil unrest
And riots downtown,
Until the weary curfew ends
We’re all on lockdown.

Bible Club bug bites,
Itchy legs and feet,
Better grab the Calamine
‘Cause we forgot the Deet.

There goes the power
But it’s all right,
We’ve got a generator
To get us through the night.

Bumping down the road
In a loaded pickup truck,
If it starts to rain,
We’re all out of luck!

Going door to door
Down the dusty street,
Precious gospel given
To everyone we meet.

Sunday morning on a porch
The seats begin to fill.
Short sermon, raised hand,
Amazing thrill!

Little brown hand
Slips into my own.
She calls me, Hermana,
But I’m the only mom she’s known.

Here comes a group
From the USA!
Debbie snacks and Slim Jims
Headed our way!

Believer’s baptism
In a mountain stream,
Living testimony
Of a heart that’s clean.

Prayer letter’s due,
Furlough’s just ahead
We’re only here because of folks
Who gave as they were led.

In a borrowed minivan
We make our stateside rounds,
Been to every Cracker Barrel,
Gained twenty pounds.

Shopping with my sis
Down every Target aisle
These shoes are all so ugly!
Wait…am I out of style?

Preacher says, “Thank you, Lord,
For those who will go
To give someone the gospel,
In a place where they don’t know.”

Some seem to pity me
“That poor missionary,
Foreign land, safety threats…
Must be pretty scary!”

My mind’s eye quickly sees
A dearly-missed brown face,
And I know without a doubt,
I’d never trade my place.


In honor of some of our missionary friends (and many others not listed!):


Matt and Dallita Goins
Honduras
www.teamhonduras.com









Nathan and Jennifer Massey
Honduras
www.teamhonduras.com








Mark and Amy Coats
Honduras
Currently in Costa Rica (language school)
Journey to Honduras









Brad and Tricia Henderson
Tanzania
truth4africa











Brad and Kelleigh Edmondson
Medical Missions Outreach











LeRoy and Amber Rolston
Honduras
Rolston Ministries

Once a week, we have "Family Night" with Claire. We usually play board games, read books, or watch a movie together. I know many other families do the same. If you're looking to mix it up a little, here's an idea for a missions-themed family night.

World Missions Family Night

To prepare, choose a country and missionary family to learn about and pray for. It's a good idea to choose a couple with children about the same age as your own kids. Use the internet to learn some fun facts about the country, and try to obtain a prayer card or recent prayer letter from the missionary family so that your kids can see whom they are praying for.

Family Night begins with a great dinner. If you are brave (and your children aren't too picky!) you can try a recipe from the country you are focusing on! If you want to start smaller, a new dessert is a good idea. If you choose Honduras, or another Latin American country, here is a great homemade flan recipe from a lady in our church.

1 can of condensed milk
2 cans of evaporated milk
3 eggs
1/2 cup sugar

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Caramelize the sugar in a heavy skillet over med-high heat until the sugar begins to melt. Shake the skillet to heat evenly, but do not stir. Once it begins to melt, reduce heat to low and cook about 5 more minutes until all the sugar is melted and golden. Stir with a wooden spoon as needed. Pour the melted sugar into the bottom of a glass 8x8 baking dish or a pie plate. Place this dish in a larger dish (13x9 works well) so that there is space all around the smaller dish.

Heat a medium saucepan of water on high heat. While it is coming to a boil, beat the milks and eggs until well-combined (but not frothy). Pour the egg/milk mixture into the 8x8 dish. When the water boils, pour it into the 13x9 baking dish so that it surrounds the smaller dish. The depth of the water should be about 1 inch.


Bake in 325 degree oven for about an hour, or until a knife inserted near the center comes out clean.

If you want to serve it warm, cool slightly on a wire rack. Before serving, loosen the edges of the flan with a knife. Invert over a large serving dish.

If you want to serve it chilled, cool on a wire rack then cover and chill in the refrigerator. Loosen edges with knife, and invert over a serving dish.

After dinner, take some time to learn about the missionary's country. A globe or a world map will help. Keep the facts fun and interesting. Try to pronounce a few words or phrases in the language of that country (You are guaranteed to get some laughs!). Read the prayer letter (or only highlight portions if it is long) and have a prayer time for the missionary family and the people of the country. Consider writing the family to tell them you prayed for them; you could also ask them questions your children may have about the mission field. Smaller children can draw pictures and dictate their letter. While they work, play music from the country of choice (found on the internet).

Throughout the night, ask your children questions to get them thinking about the mission field, such as:

1. What do you think would be the hardest part of living in another country?
2. What do you think you would like best about living in another country?
3. Why does God call people to live in other countries, far away from their homes?
4. What could you do to serve God in another country?

Develop a heart for the mission field at an early age! Sadly, many American children grow up oblivious to other cultures and assume the rest of the world lives just as they do. Open your children's eyes to the needs around the world. Who is waiting for your child to share the gospel? What will you do as a parent to make that happen?

If you are interested in doing a "Honduran Family Night" email me at christine@teamhonduras.com for a free information packet.

This week, I'd like to invite you to our home! Missionary homes may vary greatly, depending on the area of the country, but our home is typical for an average missionary in Central America. Welcome!



This is our house as you drive up. It's pretty standard in Honduras to have a security wall or high fence for safety reasons. Almost everyone gets broken into at some point, so we have to take every precaution possible. We live on a dirt road, even though we live in town. Only the main streets are paved in our town.



As you walk through the front gate, you will see the carport and porch area. It's very nice to have a porch in Honduras, because the house gets very hot. We often eat or visit with guests on the porch instead of inside.



This is our guard dog, who is about to have puppies!



One thing I love about Honduras is the beautiful plant life. In our yard, we have a cashew tree, two guanabana trees, an orange tree, and a mango tree.



This is a view of our side yard. We are very thankful for a large yard, a rare find in this country. We've been able to host many youth activities and large church events here.



Now let's go inside!



This is our living room/dining room area. The open floor plan has been perfect for hosting large groups. We shove all the furniture into the other rooms and the hallway, and can fit quite a few people in here! We even held Wednesday night Bible studies here before we had a church house. The windows in this area and the kitchen stay open 24/7 year-round in order to take advantage of any breeze coming off the mountain, since this part of the house is not air-conditioned.



Beyond the dining room, you can see the hallway leading to the bedrooms. And through the arched opening on the right is the kitchen. You will notice that the walls are all concrete and the floors are all tiled--no carpet in Honduras! It wouldn't last long with all the dirt and dust we have!





The kitchen is where I spend a LOT of time! Missionary wives learn to cook for a crowd! There are church events, medical brigades, youth groups...we are cooking machines!



We have a double sink that works great for the disinfection process. No, we don't have a dishwasher (and I'm not sure how well one would work, anyway, since we don't have hot water). Since we wash by hand with cold water, we place dishes into a container filled with bleach water (which I change at least once a day). They soak here for a few minutes before I place them aside to dry. We also soak fruit and vegetables here to clean them of any pesticides.



Since the water here is unsafe for drinking, we purchase water jugs from a truck that come through the neighborhood daily. We use this water for drinking, cooking, and brushing our teeth.



These are louvered windows, which are slats of glass that we can open with a knob. We have screens to help with insects and dust; we have to hose these down pretty frequently.



Heading back up the hallway, we turn to the left into Robbie's office. He will be moving out shortly when the church building is completed (we are praying to be in by September 19); I plan to convert this space into a homeschool room for Claire to begin K-4. I am very thankful to be able to have an area specifically for homeschooling!



This is our master bedroom. I've tried to make it a real haven; it's so nice to go in at night, take a shower, and run the AC! We are very thankful for our room!



This is the master bath. When we first moved in, we called it the psych ward bath--all white, white tile, and a shower with a long hose to spray cold water! Just recently, I was able to paint and redecorate it to warm it up a bit. One thing that's different about bathrooms in Honduras is that you can't flush TP; the pipes are too small and are easily clogged. We keep a lined trashcan with a lid beside the toilet and empty it frequently. Americans usually forget at some point, so the rule in our house is...you clog it, you plunge it!



Now heading to the right side of the hallway...looking through another archway, we have a wall of closets. This has been a huge blessing because most homes in Honduras have very little closet space and no attic.



The middle closet door opens to reveal...the guest bathroom! One difference from homes in the U.S. is that bathtubs here are a rare luxury. We use a small plastic tub placed in the shower to bathe Claire, but she's also gotten used to the showers. One thing I love to do when I go back to the States to visit is take a nice hot bath!



To the left of the closets, we have a guest room that serves as my office right now.



To the right of the closets is Claire's room.



This is a typical closet (we have these in the three bedrooms). You have a built-in dresser area with drawers behind one door. Behind the other two doors is room for hanging clothes. Above are three doors for storage.



Now let's head out the kitchen door to the right side of the house. Here we keep our drinking water jugs on the sidewalk that surrounds the house (another unique Honduran home feature). To the right, beyond the big palm is the clothesline, and beyond that is the bodega.



A bodega is a storage building behind Honduran homes. In front, they always have a pila. We are blessed to also have a cistern and pump.



A pila is a large holding tank for water. Our water goes out very frequently here, so we can use this water in reserve to wash clothes, bathe, and flush toilets. Notice the scrubbing area. Most of my washing I do in a washing machine, but this scrubbing board does come in handy for the mop and anything I want to wash by hand (which we must do if the water or power are out).



Beyond the pila is an open-air room that holds our freezer, washer, dryer, and cleaning supplies.





Honduran homes have a "servant's quarters" in the bodega because it's common to have a live-in maid. Since we don't, we have fixed up this area for guests and interns--missionaries have LOTS of visitors! We just had a young man finish an eight-week internship, and this room and bath was just perfect for him.

We are very thankful for the home the Lord provided for us. Above all, we pray that it is a blessing and a haven to those who stop by, whether it be for several weeks or just a few hours.