It was Monday morning. I crawl out of my Hammock at 8:30 to eat my usual bowl of corn flakes and read my daily devotional. Our ministry this morning is house visits, which consist of us walking to hang out with the nearby-nearby meaning anywhere from a mile to mile and half away-locals. Once our team and our Honduran friend Roni finally gather together, taking about an hour, we begin the long dreadful walk in the blazing sun. Unlike other days when we just roam around and end up at random houses, say “buenas” and ask to come in, we had a sole purpose today and that was to see this sweet elderly woman named Maria Felice that we had met the week prior.
After 25 minutes of trekking the rough mountainous backroads of Honduras we arrive at Maria’s house and she welcomes us with a big smile. As she ushers us into her one room house the simplicity of her humbly abode is the first thing I noticed. She owns 2 small beds, a couch, a few shabby chairs, a counter with a micorwave-the extent of her kitchen-and a T.V on a shelf. The worst part of all is her only company is a few chickens and a dog. She lives all alone. Two of her children have already past away and her last child visits merely once a week to bring the normal groceries that she has no way to obtain due to her condition. This woman who has got to be in her late 60s or 70s has lived with a broken Tibia (I think thats the bone in the lower half of the leg) for 8 years. As she began to pull down her stocking to show us her injury I thought, how bad could a broken bone really look, but dear God. I had to look away for a moment in order to pull myself together to prevent from gagging or walking away. There was a gaping hole in her ankle, so deep you could see the white bone amongst the bloody red muscle. She began going on and on about the issues that have been a result of this injury; the woman has had a rough 8 years to say the least. She can get around using only a walker and even then she limps and you can see the pain behind he eyes with every step she takes. After she was finished we asked if we could pray for her ankle and she said yes, for Maria is a woman of great Faith. At the same time we all began praying for healing, and for an overflow of love and blessings, and Maria, despite her inability to understand us, stated sobing, repeating Si Senor (yes Lord) and Gracias Jesucristo (Thank you Jesus). After a few minutes of praying Maria’s ankle was not healed. It still looked just as bad as before. Needless to say, I was disappointed; I wanted to see this poor woman walk again.
Maria’s tears were still flowing and just when I thought she was crying due to the lack of physcial result she said something along the lines of this: I have never had a group of people love me the way you all do. In my disppointment God showed me something. Love is the biggest miracle of all. To visit this woman, listen to her, spend time with her, and pray with her when no one else will, is far greater than seeing her ankle healed.
I will give an update soon of how out next visit with her goes as we plan to bring her some medicine she needs, as well as fried chicken and coke.
