What a joy it is to know where you are going.
At least, it is for me.
Even though I am an ad hoc type of guy, it is very important to me to know where it is all leading. And even though I do a lot of traveling, at heart I am a homeboy. I like to have a place to hang my hat, or at least set it down on a surface.
I am now living in Catacamas, Honduras in the Department of Olancho. A departmento is similar to a province in Canada or a state in Malaysia. There are 17 of them in Honduras. Olancho happens to be the largest department in Honduras. It reminds me of the reputation that Texas has in the United States. Olanchanos are known for being hard-drinking, hard-loving, hard-living individuals. The machete, pistol, or automatic weapon is ubiquitous everywhere one goes. Lots of alcohol is consumed. The dialect of Spanish spoken in Olancho is ridiculed and mimicked as much as a Texas accent would be. Olanchano men tend to be bigger, more braggadocio, and more macho than the equivalent elsewhere and the women are more beautiful and more determined than any where else in Honduras. For instance, more motorcycles are driven by women here than anywhere I have ever been in Latin America and probably more than are driven by men - here men mostly have a truck, if they have a motor vehicle at all.
So I'm heading for the house one evening, a little later than I should. As I get close to the front door, the man living with my neighbor (her brother) across the street pulls up in a taxi. He staggers out with a big glass of beer in his left hand and waving a 45 revolver with his right hand. He immediately calls to me. He kind of swaggers, kind of staggers over to where I am and stands between me and the front door. I am thinking that this could be a volatile situation especially mixing guns and alcohol in large doses.
He starts telling me how much he doesn't like me. And then he tells me how much he wishes I would go back to my own country. He tells me a whole lot more in a long, ranting monologue that seemed to last 10 minutes. I won't repeat what he said because 1. I could tell from his tone of voice, his gestures, and his facial expressions that it wasn't very nice and 2. fortunately my Spanish wasn't good enough to understand what he was saying in his rapid, slurred voice. Finally he again tells me to go back to my own country. I waited patiently while he was talking.
Once he stopped, I quietly asked him where my country is. I asked him, "Where is my home?" He immediately pointed up over the mountains to our north and said, "Los Estados Unidos" (the United States). I gently stated that my home was not there. Then I asked him if my home was here in Olancho. He emphatically stated that it was not here. I agreed with him. My home is not here in Olancho or anywhere in Honduras. He was quite right. So I asked him again where my home is. By this time he was very quiet and quite interested.
I pointed up at the sky and said that my home was up there. I said that Heaven was where my home is. For a time I lived in Texas and for a time I will live here in Olancho. But neither of them are where I really belong nor will either of them ever fully satisfy.
It is good for me to remind myself - or be reminded - of that fact often. It is true that I am here now. I have my troubles, trials, joys, and victories. I plant my seeds, grow my crops, dream my dreams and make them into realities. But it is only for a time. I do what I can to help others because the things of this world will only be for a time, but the relationships I build and the love I show to others I pray will bear fruit for ever.
And the best thing about being one of those who has placed all that they are in the hands of my Jesus, is that I don't have to wait to start receiving the blessings of being Home. He is my Sabbath, my resting place. I place it all in His hands and He with great joy takes me along and makes me belong.
So you are probably thinking, "What happened to the guy with the gun and beer?" After I stated where my home is, he looked at me and stated, "You're a christian, aren't you?" I told him that he was correct. He then asked if maybe we could study the Bible together. Of course, I assured him that I would love to do that and set up a time when we could. Unfortunately, after sobering up, he was no longer interested in the Bible. But for the small time that he continued to stay with his sister, our relationship was much better.
May your journey be full of joy as you travel toward your destination with Him who is The Way, The Truth, and The Life.