I never liked building houses. I’m not coordinated, tall, nor strong enough to feel like I’m useful. It STINKS feeling like you’re in the way. My first house build 3 years ago was with a very experienced crew, and I felt completely useless, especially compared to my monkey of a brother. I was not too thrilled about building a house yesterday, but I was itching for some hard work (wonder where that came from, MOM!) And boy did I get it. We had two houses being built in the same community.
We divided our group and proceeded to our site. In a community like this, you start on a large dirt road, big enough for the bus. When the bus can go no further, the road turns into a rocky path. After a few twists and turns and usually a considerable increase in elevation, it becomes a barely visible grassy foot path…and ten minutes later, you’re on the side of a cliff, with a 20 x 20 flat square of dirt laid out for the house. Walking there is a job in itself, let alone hauling tools, posts, and wood for the house. The wood truck can get farther along than the bus, but not much. My cousin, Maggie, and I ended up in charge of the wood-hauling crew. IT TOOK FOREVER. The sun was blazing as the temperature rose throughout the day. We came home sunburned and heavily bruised. My right arm was splotched green for a week. We were all exhausted, with a layer of sunscreen, dirt, and sawdust covering every inch of exposed skin. Once we FINALLY got all of the wood to the site, I expected it to be halfway done. While we were having incredible difficulty hauling wood, the other part of our team had to dig the four main postholes several times because of the precarious position of the house and the composition of the dirt, so the first wall wasn’t even started. 
We kept at it for most of the day, finally finishing around 3:30. The other team (who walked maybe 15 feet to their build site) finished much earlier than us, so we had some help towards the end. 
Throughout the whole day the woman whose house we were building, Jessica, helped with every single step. She hauled wood, held boards, handed out nails, and then even bought the entire team gatorades and chips with her own money. She was amazing. She has five children, ages 14 to 1 ½. As we finished the house, I got to talk to her a lot. One of the best things about this trip so far is how much more effective I am at communicating. I get to listen to peoples’ life stories, as well as encourage them and make them laugh. Jessica was incredibly sweet and so thankful. Since I was one of the few she could talk to, she thanked me over and over again, getting more tearful each time. We finished the house and brought the team and the family inside to pray and present the house. As we prayed, the tears came. Jessica and her mother were balling, going around the circle of 20 people, hugging each of us. Jessica prayed as well, thanking God for the amazing blessing of a new house, barely getting through each word. I started crying during the prayer and LOST IT when I hugged Jessica and her mom. We spoke Spanish through our tears, talking about the beauty of God’s blessings and how He provides for us in any situation. As we were leaving, I gave them one last hug, telling them to sleep well in their new house that night. Jessica asked me if I would come back to visit. It is so difficult to say yes, because I have NO control over my schedule, and I can’t just jump in the car and drive into the village by myself. I told her that if our group returned to Cataluña, I would definitely come see her. Beyond our initial meeting, I knew nothing about Jessica’s life. The simple explanation for why a family needs a house is usually that they’re poor, they need it. And honestly, that is good enough. But then there are the people who have lived an unimaginable life. That’s Jessica. We didn’t know her story until Tim told us that night at devo. We spent the day building a house for her and her family, having little idea why she really needed the house. As I m
entioned, Jessica’s oldest child is 14. Jessica is 25. Simple math says she was ELEVEN when she had her first child, and she was married before that. Why? Out of necessity. Her family was so poor they could no longer provide for her, and she had to become the dependent of someone else, a husband. She was with this husband until the age of 20. I think she had her last two children with her second husband. About two months ago, her husband was working at his job at a communication company when some men broke in and robbed the business. He was shot three times, suffering life threatening injuries. At the hospital, they determined he needed a series of tests that needed to be performed at a different facility in the city. He was to be transported by ambulance. Jessica rode with him in the ambulance to the testing center. On the way, the ambulance was stopped by armed men. The ambulance driver ran away, leaving Jessica and her severely wounded husband alone. The men forced Jessica out of the ambulance, telling her they were taking her husband along with the ambulance. His body was found in a ditch by the side of the road three days later. She told Tim that leaving her husband in the ambulance was one of the hardest things she has ever done, but she knew she had to stay alive for her children. She never received any answers, any closure about her husband’s death. About 3% of the crimes committed in Honduras are ever solved. The only income for the family is Jessica’s 14 year old son, who has a job in the city. And while there’s a minimum wage, the vast majority of child workers make less than 50% of that, meaning Jessica’s family of 7 are living off of about $20 a week. Her life has been rife with anguish and hardship so unimaginable to me. We built her a house. In comparison to all of the problems in her life, it seems insufficient. More important than the four walls, roof, and floor is the hope, the blessing of just one problem being taken care of by God. It’s a start, a new beginning, the turning point 
for Jessica’s family. I will probably never be able to conceive what that moment meant to her when she stood in the doorway of her new house (left) but I do know that as I struggle to find the same peace and hope that Jessica sees in her situation, this verse applies to both of us: “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.” 2 Corinthians 4:8-10.
P.S. The group that built Jessica’s house got a huge box of clothes, books, and food together and visited her about a week after her house was built. In the pouring rain in the village of Cataluña, I got to hug a crying Jessica once again, realizing my return meant more than the stuff in the box. I now have Jessica’s number in my phone and plan on calling her soon.
