Last Monday teach team of the squad was told their ministry they will be doing for the next month. Some teams are working in schools, some in poverty stricken and drug-run towns, and some are working with a pastor and his ministry. My team however is visiting locals at their houses to commune and pray with them, doing manual labor at Zion's Gate (the place we are living), and hospital visits to pray over the sick. I am not going to lie, I was a little envious of the teams working in the schools and getting to teach, but if I would have got what I wanted I would have never met Jesus (I dont mean Jesus Christ just to clarify, remember this is Honduras, there are a lot of kids named Jesus).
It was last Thursday, my teams first time going to the hospital. We were all a little nervous not knowing what to expect or even what to do, we were just going to go in and see where God is working. We split up. Half went with Roni, the Honduran guy we go everywhere with, and the other half, including me went with Sarah. And by half I mean it was just Zack, Sarah, and I. We were wondering around, walking in and out of wards trying to find a place to hang out for an hour to spend time with people and pray for them. After walking up and through 5 floors we finally decided to come back and hang out with the kids on the second floor. The ward we went in had kids ranging from 1 to 11 years old, all sick with different illnesses. We then all went into different rooms to try and make conversation the best we could. My spanish, for a lack of better words, sucks so to try and hold a conversation is really difficult for me. Anyways, i mustered up some courage and ventured into a room where i saw 2 younger boys sitting on beds. They were both in good spirits and it was nice to see them smiling and laughing with me. Then I looked towards the back of the room and saw a woman holding her child. I walked over and looked at the kid, his face and body forever ingrained in my mind. He is 5 years old, and weighs only 20-some pounds. His cheeks were sunken in. Teeth almost non-existent due to the constant grinding as an attempt to coupe with the pain. He was skin and bone, malnourished to the point I wondered how he was still alive. I have seen kids like him on TV but there is something about seeing it in person that truly breaks your heart.
Jesus, his mother, and I went outside the room to meet with Sarah and Zack. Zack held the child as we prayed over him and his mother together. During the prayer we saw Jesus' face light up with a smile, even though he had no idea what was being said, I know he could feel the presence of The Lord.
After the prayer we handed Jesus back to his mother, and Sarah, who actually speaks spanish, asked if they would still be here next coming Monday; she said yes. So we bid her and Jesus farewell telling them we would be praying for them and would see them real soon.
The next 30 minutes consisted of me, Sarah and Zack sitting in silence, trying to take in all that just happened. None of us were prepared to see a kid suffering as much as Jesus. I think this was the point where we realized, this IS Honduras.
