At 5:00 am on the day
we had to leave Honduras, the kids and I and two precious friends piled into a
busito and headed north toward the coast.
As we whizzed by small towns, banana trees, and men on bicycles carrying
truckloads of wood, someone kick-started our storytelling tradition with the
words, “Remember when…” Long car rides are great for remembering when, even if
you’re all smooshed into a busito carrying 15 people across Central America. I
loved hearing from my people all about their memories of Silver Dollar City,
the beach, what they loved about our house in Georgia, and the funny things
they did that they never told me about. The heat, the road noise, the wind from
the open windows, and the chitter chatter from the back all add character to a
new story the Lord is weaving into the one’s he’s been writing with us, a new
story that someone will kickstart one day with the words “remember when…”
Remember when we had to
leave Honduras in a hurry and so we smooshed into a busito and drove to Belize?
We arrived in Honduras
on January 19th and entered
the country on 90-day visitor’s visas, with the intension of applying for
residency during our first 90 days. We weren’t able to file as planned, though. We just didn’t have enough money. In the
months before our move to Honduras, we had created a budget and raised funds,
but it didn’t take us long to figure out that we were underfunded. It was a
rookie mistake, a first time missionary miscalculation. At times Dean and I lay next to each other
late at night and wondered if our rookie mistake was really a misstep, but then
something like this trip to Belize is woven into the storyline and we are
certain we’re abiding in the shadow of the Almighty.
Before we had to go to Belize, we
were able to get a 30-day extension on our visas in April. Dean and I made the trip to San Pedro Sula to
make the application to immigration. We left before sunup, and I’m glad because
it was a long day filled with copy-making, lines, and waiting. Praise God, we
walked out of the immigration office that day with 30 more days to pray and ask
for guidance about what to do next.
When May 14th rolled
around and we were still short on funds, we knew that plans had to be made for
a trip out of the country. I spent a
quick minute teetering on the edge of panic, in part because we were so
confident that this trip would be unnecessary that Dean was in the States
attending to some business. I was certain I was going to end up carrying 11
children by myself across the ocean in a banana boat headed for Belize. I had heard rumors that the boat is nicknamed
the Vomit Rocket. Dread began to envelop me as the hours of that Sunday night
ticked by. Here’s the thing, I really want to be that girl that was praying and
telling the Lord, “I trust you, Lord, Your promises and Your plans, whatever
they are,” but there was a moment in the night on May 14th when I
was that girl praying, “Please, Lord, no.”
I woke up on Monday praying. I was done asking why and peace had replaced
the dread from the night before. That’s
one good thing about being awakened by prayer.
When my eyes opened, my friend Lisa immediately came to mind. It was a
little odd, actually, because we hadn’t chatted in long while. There with my head still on my pillow and
Lisa’s family floating around up there in my mind, I remembered that she was
involved in some mission work in Belize, and since I was thinking about a
little boat trip to Belize anyway, it made sense that we should connect. I shot her a FaceBook message that went a little
something like this: “I know this is going to sound like a strange request but
I’m needing a little help in Belize.”
When I told Lisa what was
going on, she put me in touch with some friends of hers who flung open their
doors, set the dinner table, made up the spare beds, and said, “Come on over”,
all for some strangers from Honduras. So we did.
A well-timed, seriously divine, post on social
media gave me the idea to try to rent a van instead of taking the boat. Dean had rented a van before from a lady who
lived right around the corner, so I gave her a ring. I got to thinking about what it would be like
to drive across Central America by myself with the kids, so I asked the owner
of the van if she had a driver available, and she did! All the details quickly fell into place, and
soon the van and motorista Don Jorge were confirmed. The more the merrier is
how we roll, so we asked our friends Ellie and Marta to come along with us, too. They said, “yes”, of course, because going on
an 18-hour car ride across Central America with 11 kids smooshed into a busito sounded
like the most fun ever. By the time we
crossed the border and entered Belize, I was certain that God had something
important for us there. If we had been
able to apply for our residency, we would’ve missed it since we wouldn’t have
needed to go to Belize in the first place.
Have you ever been to Belize? It’s cooler than a pack of peppermints. Your
car will be freshly fumigated for diseases as you exit Guatemala and enter
Belize, but don’t scratch your head too long about that strange happening or
you’ll miss the tailgate, complete with pickup trucks, coolers, lawn chairs and
cases of beer, all going on in the parking lot of Belize’s Border Control. It was quite the sight, especially after
spending all day long in the busito watching banana fields and sweet Guatemalan
villages pass by.
Heads up, it seems a tad unusual for a woman to
travel with 11 children across Central America without her husband. God’s hand
was upon us, and it all worked out for His glory, but we were detained at
border control and customs for a minute or two or 120. I don’t know what they thought we were up to,
but they kept saying, “We’ve just never seen anything like this before.” I am truly glad they are careful when it
comes to the safety of children, especially given that there are some horrible
things happening to children in this world.
Eventually they determined we were on the up and up, gave us the entry
stamp on our passports, and let us in. Make
sure you have a little money on hand in case you need to tinkle. It’s about $0.50 a person, which adds up when
you have a big group. Ellie was guarding
the little ones while I was detained, and she didn’t have any cash on her. Thankfully a nice gentleman paid the $5.50 so
our people could “go”, because the potty guard wasn’t letting anyone through
with no money, no matter what.
We hit another little snafu as we exited border
control. It seems you cannot drive in
Belize without purchasing their insurance policy, even if it’s after 9 pm and
there is nothing open. We had to drive
around town looking for someone to sell us insurance before we could head to
our destination. I met a guy in line at
the liquor store who knew this guy who sells the insurance. I know it sounds odd – that I was in line at
a liquor store. It’s uncharacteristic of me, I know, but that’s what was open,
and I needed to ask for help. I still
can’t believe we did this, but when the guy I met in line at the liquor store
told me he knew a guy who sold insurance, I thanked him so much, got back in
the van, and we followed him down the dark streets of Belize to a stranger’s
house. The stranger wasn’t home but there was this other guy who said could meet
us back at the liquor store, so we were able to buy the insurance. I filled out the forms, paid the guy about
$20, and we were on our way again. I
recommend learning the words to the Fruits of the Spirit song before your
busito adventure. Love, joy, peace,
patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control are
all needed in abundance, my friends.
We arrived in Camalote around 11:00 pm. Our
phones no longer worked once we crossed into Belize, and there was no where to
find WIFI, so we couldn’t call for directions when we couldn’t find our way. No
worries though, we pulled into the only place we saw that was open to ask for
directions, and they unstacked the chairs and invited us to sit a spell while
they called the camp director. I kept
looking at Ellie and thinking, “Oh my, her parents entrusted her to us and
within just a few months we’re hanging out in front of the One Barrel
Bar.” The owners were the sweetest and
in no time the director of Camalote Camp was there to show us the way. Even
though it was almost midnight when we rolled into camp, the staff met us and
fed us and made us feel welcome. The beds were made, the AC was hopping, and I
fell asleep in utter amazement of what the Lord had for us there. The body of Christ is the only way to
describe our experience. We met so many
Jesus loving people and experienced God’s lovingkindness is so many unexpected
ways during the three short days we spent in Belize.
There’s much more to share but this post is
already long, so you’ll have to come back for part two. I always hate it when bloggers do that, but
now I get you long-winded bloggers and your two parted posts. Sometimes the
story is just too good to skip parts to make it fit in one post. Glory be to God for getting us to Camalote
Camp.
Thank you for reading along, praying for us and
supporting us to be here in Honduras. If
you’d like to become a part of our support team and a make a difference for
orphaned, abandoned, and vulnerable children in Honduras, check out our "Partner with Team Robinson" page or make a donation to the Robinson Family at www.bethesdafund.org. We could really use
the help – right now especially because as much as we loved Belize, we hope not to have to go back there in August.
