Were not in Kansas Anymore 11-2-09

I'm not sure when it happened. I´m not sure the moment that everything I have ever known fell into the opened gates of hell.

Perhaps as I drove across the city in a crazy taxi that was bobbing and weaving through two lane roads no larger than a lane and a half in the states at 60 miles an hour. Oh perhaps it was as we passed by the man guarding his tires with the largest shotgun I have ever seen. Or when I passed the truck packed with men with huge machine guns that looked like terrorists, only to find out they are the police. Maybe it was when I entered my house, tiny, smelly and a huge vat of water in the middle of the kitchen that we used for ever thing, cause we didn´t have running water. Or was it when I literally climbed up hundreds of stairs to reach my new area.
Possibly the second day when it rained harder on me then it ever has before in my entire life, drenching me to my very core in seconds, and later being told that it was actually a very light rain that night. It might have been as I waded, calf deep in overflowing sewage water across what was once a bridge to get back to my house that night. Maybe it happened as I have yet to teach a lesson to an investigating family that lives in a house (or shack) that is larger than my room back home. Maybe it's while I climb monstrous hills and mountains to get to our lessons, that when I arrive I'm so covered in sweat my shirt is nearly totally soaked through. Possibly my bus ride to this Internet cafe as we were stuffed into a bus so full I could barely stand as the bus battled its way through crazy traffic and drivers, and up hills steeper then I thought buses could even climb, let alone while being over capacity. However I know exactly the moment that it did happen.

During lessons I tend to get bored because I can't understand most of the language and I was starting to doze off because of the heat and exhaustion.
In an attempt to stay awake I started looking out the window at the pretty blue sky and huge white clouds. When I returned my gaze back to the family (a grandma like lady, a mom, her husband, and two small kids) I did the only thing I really could do during the lessons. I just smiled and tried to look happy and like I know what is going on. However I wasn´t getting a word. So I just looked at the grandma and smiled, and she gave me a huge smile back. But then I looked down... I looked down and to the greatest shock in my entire life her boob was hanging out of her shirt, and there was a child attached to it. I almost died and quickly averted my eyes. I started sweating even more (which is amazing because I didn't think I could sweat anymore) and I averted my gaze to the other half of the room. As the panic began to subside I looked at the mother and saw as the child in her arms began to tug at her shirt. Before I could even think to look away pop! it was done. There I was staring at the ground. I think it's the first time in my life I had seen a real boob. The father realized that I was basically having a panic attack and started laughing, and I just stayed with my eyes fixed on my shoes. What kind of people feed there children in front of two religious strangers!!!!!

As I walked down the mountain I just wanted to cry. I probably could have because you wouldn't have even been able to tell because of the sweat pouring down my face, but it was horrible. I couldn´t understand anything. My compañero is from Peru, and speaks about as good of English as Yoda, and I speak about as good as Spanish as Isabella my 2 1/2 year old niece. Its like there was the Great Wall of China between me and the planet these people were on. I know I fell asleep on the flight, but I'm fairly sure we weren´t teleported to another planet during the flight. At least they spoke English in OZ.

As we ate lunch (after the boob incident) I just sat there in total culture shock... however realize the word culture shock does not do it justice. It was more like a culture coma... I sat there eating my soup with mystery fruit, a piece of cow spine, and bananas (yeah bananas go in everything here, even meat soup) I just fought back tears. I thought of how I could pack my bags and if I knew enough Spanish or had enough lamperas (currency) to buy a ticket home. I just decided to suck it up for a little longer before my breakdown and go to the next house.

God bless the people of Honduras. Bless them for their kindness, for their humility, their patients, their huge hearts, their charity, their willingness to love God, and build his kingdom. The next lesson was nothing short of amazing. I received the gift of tongues as I bore my testimony to this family, the most beautiful family ever.
They were so patient with me and my terrible Spanish, they were nice and offered me food and drink and I wondered if they even had food for themselves. Sure it tasted like trash, and gave me violent stomach pains, but it was so incredibly kind of them. How can they wear such smiles with nothing but a small tin roof over head and a concrete and dirt floor? How can they be so nice, when life for them has been so hard?

Once I finally took the time to come out of my culture coma and see this place for what it really was, only then could I start to love it. I may not even love this place yet, but these people must be Gods people. Everyone one of them deserves the knowledge of the Gospel. Once I realized this everything changed. I went to church the next day and felt of there beautiful spirit. Sure they were wearing worn out flip flops and torn old jeans, but their spirit was like nothing I have ever felt before in a church. These people are so amazing. Once I started to devote myself to them a miracle happened. The river next to my house didn´t smell like sewage, my nightly bug bites didn´t hurt as bad, the houses weren´t so small, the water didn´t taste like dirt, their accents weren't intolerable, the fire works and gun shots that go off 24/7 weren´t as loud and making me jump, the stupid rooster that used to wake me up at 5:30 every morning I know sleep through, and Spanish is simply becoming easier. Sure I may be on a whole different planet but the spirit is here to, Gods here and so is his church. I'm so grateful for the opportunity to serve these people with all my heart, and if that means showering with a cold bucket shower every morning, and washing my own clothes on a washing board then so be it.

I love you all so much. I need your prayers especially for my Spanish, and our golden investigator Hermana Sara. She is waiting for an answer to her prays about baptism. (she reminds me of that tree on Pocahantas, so wise, so old, and the nicest lady ever)

This is hands down the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, but I know God can make it easy.

With all my love, Elder Scott Wayne Morris