I Gave up That for This Jan 2025

So dressed in the armor of God, all polished, dent free, refined, and hardened like steel; with a bilingual sword in hand, I set off with the purpose to change the island of Roatan for God. The enemy had other plans.

What I was told life would be like living on the island before coming and the reality of actually living on the island were two totally different things. Immediately upon entering the parking lot at the airport, 2 major complex issues were standing in my way. The car had blown 2 head gaskets already and the 3rd was going fast. Basically the car was old, taped and wired together and needed a complete overhaul. Water was somehow getting into the engine while steam was coming out of the exhaust. The car consumed more water/coolant than gas. The island; although tropical, beautiful and warm, had done its harsh corroding work. Sea salt, sand, humidity, rough mountainous terrain, and pot holes that swallowed whole cars had eaten away at the vital parts and it was dying fast.

The second issue was the house I was moving into. Ok, so calling it a house might be an over statement. It was a "casita". A very small house occupied by 3 adults and a baby, and she needed a whole house just for her things. I had my own bedroom with a heavy curtain for a door. The room had space enough for a queen- sized bed and a suitcase when it was partially shoved under the bed. It was cramped, lacked privacy, hot and inconvenient.

Surveying the house, I became immediately disgruntled, knowing what I had done. I shoved a large bedroom sized sewing room into 32 boxes and as I measured the size of the house in my head, I instantly knew there was no room for me in that house. These 32 boxes were not the size of "oh I'm just moving across town and this box will do." No! These 32 boxes were the largest, sturdiest, heaviest monstrosities that Menards, U-Haul, and Lowes sold. They were crammed full, and they were arriving at the Roatan ferry dock in 2 weeks during rainy season.

The options of what to do with my 32 boxes rambled about in my head; rent a storage unit, store in friends garage, store in yard with a tarp over everything, store on porch of casita. Nope, nope, nope and nope. All my options that were normal in the States suddenly became luxuries in a 3rd world country. The vexation of discontent is a nasty worm. It burrows deep into your heart and mind then grows into a venomous snake, that poisons every thought and emotions.

The lack of adequate transportation forced me into isolation mode. I had tried public means of getting around; such as busses and taxis, but my lack of useful Spanish, understanding of the money and the island hustle began to wear on me rather quickly. Multiple times the taxis overcharged me, the church bus left without me and all the "friendly island helpers" were just hustling me for money or food. It was all wearisome and overwhelming. With a "Newbie" sign tattooed to my forehead I refused to go places and would sit on the dock near the ocean and watched the resort's dolphin shows.

Oh the wonders of paradise, sitting in a lounge chair watching the passing Caribbean Sea waves, sunsets and the resort's dolphin show. As I moved into an Airbnb right next door to the casita, I thought my problems had taken a good turn. I had space, a great view and was so close to the casita I could smell their eggs, beans, rice and tortillas cooking. Life was good...until it wasn't. The exhaust from the water taxis taking tourists to the dolphin show made me dizzy and sick, the studio apartment was dark and overpriced while, the torrential rains eroded the soil from the mountains, pushing a muddy stream down the dirt road through our driveway and dumping in into the sea, causing a rusty brown slurry trail from mountain to ocean.

Like watching clothes tumbling in a dryer, the thoughts plummeting around in my head and the chaotic emotional turmoil was making me develop a severe case of "awfulization." Everything here on Roatan was awful. My new quote of the day was "I gave up that for THIS!" I gave up a townhouse for a casita. I gave up a paid off reliable car for a damaged klunker. I gave up close family, peeps who knew me very well and liked me anyway, a gospel preaching church, recognizable language, customs, and culture. I gave up food I recognized and loved, safe roads, connections, a stable job, financial security, et cetera, et cetera, and et cetera. Everything I left behind was wonderful and perfect while everything here on the island was horrible and ugly.

Awfulization comes with venomous friends that also reared their villainous heads to capture my soul and mind. Depression, negativity, exaggeration, claustrophobic entrapment, exasperation, irritability and an overwhelming feeling of being overwhelmed were taking up space in my head rent free. I was ready to dump it all and quit; go back to my safe place, my refuge my familiar.

So the fourth moving day for myself arrived. A nice big house in the mountains, 5 minutes from our community's private beach, 3 bedrooms, 2 baths, huge kitchen, and tranquil. Banana trees with ripe fruit we had access to, areas for gardens, tropical plants, and neighbors who were not druggies, or had wild parties. The house's description sounded like something from the pages of Better Homes and Gardens. There was only 1 drawback for me and it terrified me to consider we were moving there.

The house was located on a lot near the uppermost peak, 2 miles straight up or straight down or around wickedly steep switchback curves. The drive to the house was rocky, full of washouts and washboards, rutty and one lane all the way; boarded on either side by a tree root studded rock walls or the endless bottomless jungle abyss. It was scary and made me feel anxious every time I had to drive it. Awfulization and his 3 friends; Anxiety, Anger and Annihilation were gripping me once again. I was anxious about driving up and down that mountain, angry for having to back down it when I met another car and fearful that my next turn in the wrong direction would be my total annulation.

Then it happened. Sitting in my borrowed car, on a paved driveway of a neighbor, on a rough mountainside; deep gorge on one side and gigantic rock wall on the other, on the verge of tears...God showed up.

"Pray" the Spirit spoke to me.

"I did already"

Insert the Jeopardy timing clock sound here. There was silence.

"But..." I stammered in my head.

Silence.

"What? Pray for what?"

What to pray for?....I really didn't know?

Silence

"Dear God," I prayed wavering...."forget the car, forget the house, forget this treacherous mountain road. What I really need now is peace."... "and your presence." I added as an afterthought.

As an avalanche of Gods presence and peace washed over me a in such an unexplainable way, Awfulization and his buddies rumbled down the mountain and were cast into the sea. There was no loud trumpet blast, no visible light breaking through the clouds, no heavenly chorus singing hallelujah, no mountains moving and yet, all of these things happened and much more. God had taken away the anxiety, the anger and the thought of total annihilation and had replaced them with joy, stillness, goodness, confidence, quietness, beauty and life. And as an added bonus a heavenly choir was singing in my heart a dear old hymn of my grandmother's "Joy unspeakable and full of glory"

Joy unspeakable Indeed!

Full of Glory Indeed!

God had taken the steering wheel and had maneuvered that car around, through and over that two mile treacherous stretch and gotten me home safely with a new song in my heart, a new perspective of Roatan, Honduras and a renewed sense of purpose for this island paradise.

Thank you Father in Heaven for your blessings.