Humbled

It's hard enough to present our ministry to potential supporters without the added embarrassment that comes from just being prone to calamity and general stupidity. Trust me. This is something I am all-too familiar with these days.

This week we were invited into the home of a pastor and leader of a young adult program to discuss ways we could partner with them in ministry. I mean we're talking serious God-business here. Leave it to me to find some way to humiliate myself and come off looking like a complete idiot. And the worst part? I didn't even realize I'd done it until hours later.

I've been told that I'm not a bad public speaker. I'm not sure I agree with that, but there are times where I can just feel that I've got the rapt attention of the entire audience. Smaller groups are a little harder for me to judge, but in this case everything seemed to be going according to plan. Everyone was at least looking in my general direction and pretending to listen. You really can't ask for more than that. Of course, being the center of attention is always a welcome place to be for my over-inflated ego. I mean, let's face it, humility is not really one of my gifts. So, for well over an hour we talked and plotted and planned, with my big mouth dominating the conversation. Yep, in my book it was going well.

And as we walked to the car and made our way home, I was pretty much in high spirits--certain that we'd made a good impression and represented the ministry well. That's when the Lord decided He'd had quite enough of my self-satisfaction and put me squarely in my place. That's when I looked down and discovered that my blouse was on inside-out. And not just inside-out, but really, really obviously so. The overly-large seams poked awkwardly from either side. The cute bow on the front caused a strange lump on my chest area and the long plastic loops that are intended to help you keep your clothes neatly hung, instead flopped down my arm from the shoulders. That's right. I did an entire presentation looking like I just dressed myself for the very first time. Hello awkward realization. Goodbye dignity.

Immediately, I was reminded of the verse in James--"God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble." Consider me properly humbled. Thank you God for not letting me take myself too seriously!

Heaven on Earth...Really.

This evening, as I wait for a batch of whoopie pies to come out of the oven, I'm feeling a little homesick. For those of you who don't know, whoopie pies are a traditional Mennonite dessert that is so sweet and delicious they absolutely inspire the soul (seriously, they are that good). But for me, whoopie pies conjure up memories of our time in Honduras. Think it's strange that a dessert that is so absolutely opposite to Central American cuisine should remind me of Honduras?

Well, if you ever find yourself on the long road from Tegucigalpa to Catacamas you will understand my retrospective frame of mind tonight. Because on that road, somewhere between the thousandth pothole and the hundredth over-packed bus and after you've consumed your third bottle of water to alleviate the effects of the sweltering heat, you'll no doubt need to stop to go to the restroom. And while you may be braver than the rest of us when it comes to public toilets, I highly recommend that you hold out until you get to a place called Guaimaca. Along the side of the road there is a quaint little rest stop that's almost North American in standard (I mean, they even have real toilet paper!). It's a thriving business catering to the locals and weary travelers alike. Built by Mennonite missionaries, it is there that our family was introduced to the wondrous whoopie pie. And yes, this stop is slightly famous among missionary work teams for the souvenir, handmade baskets that are works of art to behold. But I submit that it is the whoopie pie that makes this little oasis a truly remarkable place on earth...perhaps even worthy of "wonder of the world" status. Sure, you can whoopie pies in the U.S. (and probably around the world), but none are as sweet as the ones at Guaimaca. And none let you know that you're almost home to El Sembrador.

So, if you're ever in the neighborhood, remember there's not another decent restroom for miles. Go ahead and stop, make use of the flushing toilets. Then grab yourself a couple of the most heavenly desserts on earth and Pepsi for the road. I promise it'll be the best snack you'll ever have (at least while you're in Honduras).

Ok, until you can get there, here's a recipe for whoopie pies that are a distant second to the Honduran version: http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Whoopie-Pies-2/Detail.aspx

Enjoy!