Travel Tips and Green Living

A peek at another life path

The garden at Micah House, Honduras.

The gardens at Micah House, Honduras. ExploreLocalUniverse.comVictor showing us the gardens at the Micah House, Honduras.[HONDURAS] The last day passed very quickly—too fast. We enjoyed the rhythm of classes and sunshine and playtime. Exuberant and playful Victor took us on a proud tour of his vegetables in the garden that one of the Micah graduates, an agricultural engineer, helped the boys establish. They were nursing little coffee plants on the hillside behind Megan’s cabin, too, hoping to one day draw an income from the beans.

Moises, ever the clever, outgoing and sophisticated young man, took Mia, Megan and me atop the water tour that the Micah team built to serve the property. From there, we could survey the low mountains, the dumps along the road, the poor neighborhoods dotting the hillsides, the boys playing soccer on the new Micah field, the metalworking shop that the staff had set up both to provide for the needs of the Micah House as well as to train the boys in a trade, and the trampoline in the front yard that ever seemed to be in use. Michael hopes to pave the drive up to the house and the parking spaces in front, both to limit the amount of mud that 16 boys drag in every day and to provide employment for the families of Micah staff and people in the neighborhood.

Atop the water tower at the Micah House, Honduras.

The neighborhood around the Micah House, Honduras.

Birthday party at the Micah House, Honduras. ExploreLocalUniverse.comDinner brought Joelle’s birthday party. Each of the boys gets a cake for his birthday every year, as well as a cake to commemorate his first day at Micah. They’re elaborate, colorful, frosting-laden confections…my kind of dessert. After a blessing by Michael and touching words by some of his brothers, Joelle dug in. The riotous tradition includes a smearfest of frosting on the birthday boy. Boys! So much energy and silliness and movement. I think I might have enjoyed raising a boy.

Everyone cleaned up and settled down to homework. We eventually made our way back to the cabin to shower and pack. I was looking forward to being home to nurse my cold and catch up on the work that never stops flooding in. But I would miss the boys, and I could see very clearly the appeal of staying to follow the flow of their days—classes and practices and meals and homework and play. It would be as if I were a stay-at-home-mom to a great big family, a life path that I may have enjoyed if God had presented me that option.

The boys at the Micah House, Honduras.

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