“So, your time is just about up, huh... How’s it been for you?” Casually inquires the neighboring expatriate.

How’s it been for me?!?!? I think...does this bare-chested beach stroller with local brew in hand really want to know the answer to that question? Does he have a week so that I can explain it to him, or was that a cryptic attempt at small talk? Let’s test it.

“It has been.....amazing.” I respond fishing for true interest. Will he bite?

“Yeah, sure is beautiful down here, isn’t it? Well, you take care now, ya hear!” he exclaims as I watch his hairy back retreat down the beach.

Yeah, that’s what I thought. Glad I didn’t launch into my lengthy dissertation on how my life has been radically affected serving the orphaned children of Honduras. What is going through my head right now? I have no idea...there is too much going on in there I can’t sort it out. It’s like a pile of clean laundry on the floor. Every piece needs to be extracted from the pile, folded into a neat package and put away for later use. There is departure and arrival, separation and reunion, satisfaction and regret, fatigue and endless energy, confusion and crystal clarity, excitement and depression.

Departing volunteers don’t actually work the last two weeks on the farm - we call it retirement. It’s a time to put closure on relationships as well as prepare for transition back into US life. I was a bit nervous as to how bored I would become sitting idle on the farm watching my looming departure approach. But without an endless task list, I have been able to wake up and just let the day take me.

I convinced one of my sixth graders to take me armadillo hunting. We weren’t quite successful, but it was fun to watch this kid who giggled his way through the reproductive system put on his poker face and guide me, crouched down, through the thickest sugar cane, on a very serious hunt.

I was put in charge of decorating the house for thanksgiving (dangerous!) and decided to delegate to some kids. We scavenged the Finca for pretty leaves and flowers and brought them to the house. The kids then plastered the front porch with leaves and superfluous amounts of duct tape. The porch was a shiny gray with sprinklings of autumn color.

By far the best experience was up in the mountains. I was invited to spend the night in a village called Buena Vista (Good View) which is about 90 minutes walking from the main road. The folks that live up there are my patients...I see them regularly at the clinic, but haven’t spent nearly as much time as I wanted to visiting them in their homes. Hilda and her husband Modesto were the first families to settle the community only thirty years ago. They have 11 children ranging from 19 months to 23 years. Hilda married when she was 15 and Modesto only has a 6th grade education. They farm the land, and live in a wood slat home with a tin roof and clay floor. You would assume, based on these stats, that they are ignorant, uneducated and miserable. Quite the contrary.

Twenty years ago this Friday they were married in the church. They already had two children, but felt called to be Delegates of the Word. (In an effort to unite and strengthen the Catholic community in Honduras, the church created positions such as Delegates of the Word. These folks meet in the bigger towns and are trained on catechism and given formation so that they may return to their rural communities and foster the faith life there. They are true leaders in their communities, and have taken their roles beyond the church. Not only do they plan prayer sessions but initiate and organize water, electricity and education projects within their pueblos.) Together, they founded the church in Buena Vista. They solicited funds from the families and from the dioceses and built a small and simple cement block church. Through this forum, they became more united and invested in the wellbeing of their community. They decided to build a school, and contracted a teacher. Every house has running water (although not indoor), and they are currently one month away from electricity generated by the river water current and conducted without any outside aid.

Their solid foundation is maintained by their three prayer meetings a week; bible study, rosary and communion service. The bible study was rescheduled so that we could attend. At about seven, (after a basic meal of potatoes, rice and tortillas) 20 community members walked into the Gomez household. We were supposed to go down to the church, but we finished dinner later and Hilda was worried that I would fall navigating the narrow paths in the darkness, so she sent word with one of her kids to invite everyone to their house.

Modesto proposed a question to the group. What does a person or a community do when they are called by God? There were quite a few responses...the gist was that a person abandons their own wishes, their own will to that of God...trusting completely in the divine plan, and believing that true joy and happiness occurs only when one responds to that call.

Then he said, “Well that’s what we think...let’s see what God says” as he opened his Bible. He read the passage of the call of the first disciples. Jesus says to them follow me, and they drop everything and follow him - committing themselves wholly and freely to God.

He then launched into the most affirming, inspiring, eloquent reflection I have witnessed in the past two years. He explained that many people interpret this passage metaphorically... “they see God calling us to change our attitudes, and live more Christly. But you (speaking to us vols) have interpreted the gospel literally. You have left your families, your work and come to a country to take on a foreign job in a language that is not your own. You get no financial compensation, and trust that God will provide you with the resources to fulfill your call. You are examples to us all, and we thank you for your service.”

It was beautiful. As a volunteer community, we spend so much of our time scolding ourselves for all the ways in which we are flawed. In this lifestyle, our faults stare us down constantly - we struggle with the language, battle with our own shortcomings revealed in living with fifteen people and try hopelessly to keep our head above water as we feel under-qualified for virtually every task we engage in. So much of our energies are focused on how we can improve professionally, socially, philosophically and spiritually.

But this dear campesino, a seemingly simple man, informed me that I did good. He put all the pieces together, from sacrifice to service, and said “Amen.” I was touched. As tears slid down my cheeks, I looked around the room, lit by a single candle and was mesmerized by faces of my patients. They know they are poor, but wouldn‚Äôt trade anything for the joyful and life giving fellowship they are apart of. My departing remarks were simple as well. “You call yourselves poor, but this community is far richer than most - I will forever strive to love my neighbors as you love yours.”

I went to bed that night, uncomfortably close (so close in fact that spooning was inevitable) to my fellow volunteer, listening to a chicken cooing in the corner and a chorus of a family of twenty sleeping soundly. I’ve been trying for months now to succinctly communicate what it is that I have learned here. His words clarify it all...a life vulnerable only to love and founded on trust in God is the most joyful and peaceful life. Perhaps it was the desire to live that principle that brought me here in the first place.

Now it is our mission to bring this vivacious yet counterculture principle to the States and integrate it into our every action. It is a daunting task and perhaps more difficult than the two years of volunteer service in Honduras. I return a different person, both humbled and inspired by the opportunity of life!