WEED-WHIPS, HAMMERS AND HUMMINGBIRDS

Two weeks ago, I was back in Honduras with the first construction team to travel with Burro Bueno! A very precarious rotted bridge, though providing a great opportunity for adventure, needed to be replaced. I found it particularly poetic that in 1989, a dear friend named Phil Germany participated in the first construction team on this property. On this trip, 35 years later, his son Barry was pounding nails here once again.

On one of the days we were there, Jeanette and I were returning from getting some plumbing supplies. We drove through the sounds of concrete being hand mixed, nails being driven, weed whips buzzing and people laughing. I was setting some of the plumbing supplies down near a bathroom that was being worked on and looked over at a nearby tree. Hovering from limb to limb was a beautiful hummingbird, the sun reflecting off of iridescent green and purple feathers. The sounds and sights of life coming back to this place, mixed with the incredible wonder of a hummingbird is rich in harmonious poetry.

Poetry abounds in this world our Creator has provided for us. If we look for it, it is everywhere.