A FAREWELL
January 20, 2025
I watched the bus carry Kenia away this morning, returning her to her grandmother’s house. I met Kenia on my first trip to Honduras, ten years ago. Her mother brought her to the Hogar de Niños at the age of thirteen to protect her from her abusive Father.
At first, Kenia was a challenge for me. She was so painfully shy and self-conscious; she would hardly say a word to a stranger let alone a big old Gringo like me. Eventually, she warmed up. When I saw her smile for the first time, the sun seemed to shine brighter; I felt like I had won a great prize. It didn’t take long for my wife and I to fall in love with Kenia. Now, we claim her as our “ahijada” (God-child) and she refers to us as her “papis” (parents). We definitely got the better end of that deal!
Kenia moved to her grandmother’s home about four years ago. We stay connected via WhatsApp and we make arrangements to see her several times a year when we come to Honduras. So, I have watched a bus carry Kenia away before, but today was different. I am retiring from the Honduras Mission and don’t expect to return to Honduras any time soon, if ever. As Kenia and I took our walk around the compound this morning before her departure, I inwardly grappled with the bittersweet realities of loving someone. I recalled the many significant and sweet moments we shared with Kenia through the years, followed by the thought: “This will likely be the last time . . . the last time I can say to her face
that I love her; the last time we will walk with her hand-in-hand; the last time I am afforded the
opportunity to pray for her and bless her with my hand on her head; the last time . . ..
Although today’s experience of loving someone saddened my heart, it does not outweigh the joy we have received nor the tender moments we have shared with Kenia. Yes, I watched the bus carry Kenia away from me this morning, but I thank God for the gift of her trust, her friendship and especially her love. Kenia is gone but love remains.
Owen Lovejoy