I am sitting in the Dallas terminal waiting for Zac to arrive where we will be boarding our plane to Belize. It seems like the weeks leading up to this point have been so busy dealing with work and family issues that I am only just now understanding what may lie ahead in the coming week. I am both nervous and excited to start this adventure. I have never left the country and the process allowing me to get here on the verge of realizing this, a life goal of mine, has been exciting.
While I am excited, going to a new place that I have heard is so beautiful, it is not lost on me the reason for my travel. I am going on a mission trip to help those who are less fortunate than myself and spread the message of Jesus Christ. This is not an undertaking I take lightly and have felt some feelings of conflict. Feelings that tell me I'm not good enough to share the gospel with others, that I'm sinful and should be ashamed to even step out and claim to be a Christian. And while these voices are present and somewhat true, I know that that is the very reason I am going. Why I know I must go, because I am flawed. I go because I am the personification of the gospel realized. I am a sinner and I have been saved from the clutches of darkness and it is my duty to go and share my story with others who are still wandering in the darkness. This is why I am going to Belize. This is why I go boldly into uncharted waters with confidence knowing my cause is a noble one, not because of anything I have done but rather what He has done for us all.
The flight from Dallas to Belize wasn't too long at all. Zac gave me a book to read about how to handle cultural differences that dealt with cold climate cultures and how they differ from hot climate ones. It was entertaining but also got me thinking and hoping I would not insult anyone inadvertently while visiting.
When we began our decent the ground looked to me at first, much like Alabama. Very green with some brown rivers. Then I saw palm trees and it reminded me of the Florida landscape when I used to fly into Gainesville in college before playing the Gators. The weather was great, overcast and about sixty degrees. In contrast to the low teens of Grand Junction, this was a pleasant surprise. I was expecting sweltering jungle heat like I had experienced in Birmingham. The airport was small and it was my first time to go through customs and use my brand new passport that had taken so much effort to receive. After retrieving our bags, we walked across a parking lot and spoke with my first Belizean, the rental lady. After an hour of negotiating and small talk, we hoped into our small blue Diahiatsu and headed out for Corazol where we were staying.
We took one of only two highways in the country, the North Highway. I use the term highway loosely as it reminded me more of a paved back woods road in a remote town in Alabama riddled with pot holes and faint divider lines. There were no police to enforce road laws, only large speed bumps every so often that were the same color as the street which made it extremely difficult to see before testing the Diahiatsu's already worn suspension. What amazed me most about the trip was the shanty houses that dotted the landscape.
These homes, made entirely of concreted usually without doors or windows, looked like crack houses that would have been condemned and abandoned in the States. There were people every so often mostly riding bicycles or standing in from of these homes and dogs that were ratty and wild looking. As we made our way through the countryside, we listened to the Belizean radio which consisted mostly of 80's and 90's music that was pretty cheesy. Lionel Richie, Bananarama, and Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, whoever sings that (Cindy Lauper?) made the radio.
We passed through about four "cities" or villages where there was more of a concentration of these houses and people on bikes very close to traffic. We actually saw a vehicle passing us almost his a child on a bike before swerving and causing us to slam on the breaks. We finally arrived at the resort that the girls, Pam an accountant from Nashville, and Kimberly a teacher, were staying at. We got them checked in and then drove less than a quarter of a mile to our "hotel" which was the top level of a two story building. We took our things to the floor and entered the room. It was very plain. The cement walls were all white and no light fixtures. Just the necessities. Three beds in one room and two in the next. No air conditioning but very old triple bladed ceiling fans. The one in our room gyrated and looked unsafe when turned on. Luckily there was a newer floor fan and the temperature was relatively cool.
We unloaded and headed back to the girl's resort where there was an outdoor restaurant. The Y-Not Bar and grille was a thatched roof establishment on the bay. I got my first taste of Belizean food as well as service. The first entree came out about 45 minutes after ordering and subsequent entrees came out in about 15 -20 minute increments. By the time we had eaten it was about 9 O'clock and since my day had began at 4 A.M. mountain time, I was crashing fast. We headed back to the hotel Maya, I took my malaria pills and Pepto pills and was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
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