These are the hands of my new team.

Hands that have worked hard and received blisters, been cut by bamboo, made C O U N T L E S S tortillas, prayed over families within the mountains of Comyagua, and hands that will continue to be open to be used by Jesus.

This night will be a night that I will never forget. I was brought to tears remembering the sacrifice that my Jesus so willingly chose into. I looked at my beaten up hands and wept in gratitude. He dealt with more than beaten up hands, sore body parts from laying on the ground, sunburnt shoulders, and bug bites. Choosing the race was a VERY small sacrifice in comparison to His. When I think about "living surrendered" I think of this. Remembering the ultimate example of surrender to our Father, and walking in a community that will encourage you to do just that.

As I close out my first month in Honduras, I am reminded that because of His sacrifice I am grafted into His kingdom. And because I am a part of His kingdom I am made whole.

He is worth every blistered, cramping, cut up hand.

He is worth kneeling in reverence in the dirt.

He is worth walking miles up/down a mountain for His love to be shown.

He is worth your back cracking every time you climb out of a tent.

He is worth the painful mysterious bug bites.

The list could go on...

Feeling the weight of His presence is something that will never grow stale. What a gift it is that I get to choose into that every single day.