I should mention at this point that on every trip I have been on, and this is my eighth, that at some point or points, I seem to go through an emotional low point. My low point was Thursday and Friday, and not just because I was sick.
I was discouraged by the distance between the village and the city, La Ceiba, where I intended to rent a house for our team and my family. Somewhere on the long drive it became apparent to me that this was an impractical distance to be working from. And then the rivers were inadequate. More discouragement and frustration. We would need to reevaluate the entire plan.
And driving for so many hours with Humberto, I was reminded of something about him. That is, there are still formidable language barriers between us. I estimate we only understand about 70% of what each other says. With better communication, my misconceptions about the inadequacy of the river or of the distance could have been avoided. I would like to blame someone.
All these things together can have a crushing feeling. It would be easier if it were just me, but I know my family and a large group of students are on the way, and we need to get things arranged, and this makes the emotional pressure worse.
My thoughts run away. At times I feel like a pretender. Who do I think I am fooling? This is a ridiculously difficult task. Why am I even doing this? I should get a real job and make lots of money and make myself comfortable. Forget nobility, ignore calling. They are over rated.
But then I reconnect. I talk to The M who believes in me so strongly. I talk to Robin, the missionary to the deaf who lives here and can relate. I get some sleep and some medicine, and spend some time praying. Sanity returns. Mental anguish is banished. Peace, like a river, attendeth my way.
Psalm 25 comforts me:
"...turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted. The troubles of my heart are enlarged. Bring me out of my distress, and forgive all my sins."