True to Sod’s Law, my last morning in Honduras is beautiful.  There is no rain and no clouds cover the sky.  The blue beyond is startling today after so much rain and the air is clear from the inordinate amount of water flowing over the past few days.  Finches are dancing in the grape-vine and from limb to limb in the guava tree.

Monkey is fast asleep even now.  She didn’t get to nap yesterday at all but was up playing all day.  She may have caught five minutes in my lap on the way from Porvenir.

Yesterday afternoon Nena loaded us up into her four-wheel-drive and took us to see Myce’s property in a town outside of La Ceiba.  The rains had already let up and the path to the property was slick with mud.  At one point, Christian stopped and pointed out the hormigas.   A line of leaves marched in constant succession and had me squatting down and squinting to see the busy red ants below.  It was a long line of walking leaves and I took a picture to show my naturalist brother at the next opportunity.

The young man who cares for the property was in the door of the little hut when I caught up with three little children all under the age of four with dirty faces and curious eyes.  Mahogany trees and a tree with a flower much like a frangipani and almost as tall as a Ceiba tower over the property with cooling shade.  Below them, nature thrives in all its rainforest glory – plantains in a worshipful circle and coffee trees, starchy roots and pregnant vines.  It is a living bread basket.

Next we were off to the beach at Porvenir.  The Rio Porvenir was swollen and beautiful, flowing beneath the glassy surface with fierce determination to the sea.  It wasn’t muddy at all but clear giving the view of the river rock below.  This junction of two powerful waters is a tranquil tourist destination, quiet now in the slow season.  Thatch roofed huts line the riverside and the sand is the colour of ash.  Nena described for me the scene in the summer, of tents and a great crowd of campers who cover the beach like ants, of vendors selling all sorts of food and wares.

But on this day it was quiet, shared only with us, a father and with his child out on the point, and three fishermen in bright coloured windbreakers, rods and reels up in the air.  A canoe, a Honduran dory, slid down the calm river and completed the idyllic picture.

My spanish is improving with every day that I pass here.  Nena des not speak english to me but is patient with me as I process.  Last night I dreamed in spanish and woke to thoughts in Spanish!  Immersion really works!  The children and I understand each other much better now as well and Christian teases me as he teases Fiore.  As for Fiore, she is my little gallina and gives as good as she gets.

From Porvenir we strolled around the mall, had a meal, and bustled home.  Everyone readied for bed and Bo and I sat up late with a movie while Nena took in the night air with a final cigarette.  Coming to the door she invited me to join her with un tragito de ron (a little drink of rum) and see the rain-free sky of La Ceiba.

Where the Rio Porvenir meets the Caribbean Sea

Cleansing Flood

There is nothing like sleeping in the rain.  And rain has not failed to fall for me.  Every time I lay my head down in Honduras to rest the rain meets the gurgle of the stream outside the window and makes for a beautiful sleep.  The windows are louvered and allow a fresh breeze in to sweeten the night and the stream is blood-red with the drain of the earth into it.  Always there is the sound of water.

Yesterday I bought two works of art to hang in my home.  One was a metal-worked thicket of leaves for my porch.  The other was a cross also of metal.  It is beautifully woven and will be put in a place of prominence in my home to remind me of my Father’s love.  Tonight the cross is wrapped for my journey home, tight in cardboard and masking tape.  But there are reminders everywhere.  The constant flow of water is music calling to mind the only never-ending grace.

No matter what I have done in my day, no matter where I have gone, how I have felt and what I have said His grace meets me like rainfall when I lay my head down to rest.

Isn’t it strange how it is the imperfect among us who forgive with the most difficulty?  It is also very amazing to find that imperfection in myself and feel grace rise to meet it.  I am forgiven – not necessarily by men and women around me and not necessarily by myself, but by the only person whose opinion is worth anything at all.  I am loved best of all by my God.

Rain of grace that washes away all imperfection...