Introduction
A month before going on the Honduras Mission I was feeling nervous then God bestowed upon me a dream to ease my fears. A man appeared with a big smile as he juggled several different jobs in front of me. He was doing many tasks simultaneously and would glance over toward me with a twinkling in his eye like he was about to wink. He was showing me how a missionary works and I sensed then everything was going to be alright. When I woke up, my fear of going on mission was gone. God gave me the courage and confidence to go and serve His people.
I had come to Honduras as a missionary—an ordinary person with an extraordinary calling. My testimony, shaped by the faces, stories, and miracles I encountered, is a tapestry woven with struggle, hope, and the boundless love of a God who meets us in the most unlikely places.
The Call to Serve
My journey began one day after mass at St. Anthony of Padua. The Honduran Bishop Jenry was visiting our parish, and I had the opportunity to introduce myself. After exchanging pleasantries, he asked me if I had considered going on Mission to Honduras. I explained that I was praying and discerning. He then looked at me straight in the eyes and boldly said; “What are you waiting for?” I took his words to heart and with my husband’s blessing I was granted the opportunity to serve on the Catechetical team. The words of Isaiah echoed in my soul: “Here am I. Send me.”
Preparation was both daunting and exhilarating. I had never dreamed of going out of my comfort zone. Traveling to a third world country was a bit scary to think about. It took lots of prayers in adoration with the Blessed Sacrament. Participating in several meetings with the core team and seasoned missionaries helped me gain confidence. By the time our day of departure came I felt ready for the challenge. Yet nothing could truly prepare me for the reality: the embrace of children in dusty quarters, the resilience of mothers raising families with so little, and the quiet faith that shimmered in the eyes of villagers gathering for prayer within a small cement walled church without air conditioning.
Arriving in Honduras
Landing in Tegucigalpa, with its winding roads and vibrant markets, I was immediately struck by the contrasts. The city pulses with energy, yet just beyond its borders, poverty and hardship are woven into the fabric of daily life. My assignment was in a rural village, nestled high in the mountains, where modern conveniences were scarce and every sunrise felt like a miracle.
My first day traveling to the top of the mountain was quite a ride. Narrow dirt roads with potholes every few feet made the journey very bumpy. The clouds of dust covered the brave missionaries who chose to travel on the back of the truck. But smiles, laughter, and shared meals with the 250 Honduran children made each day full of joy. The people welcomed me without reservation, their generosity humbling and their warmth a balm to my anxious spirit.
Moments of Challenge
Missionary work, I soon discovered, is not the stuff of travel brochures. It is gritty, often exhausting, and sometimes heartbreaking. Meeting a mother of four who was blind and in need of clothing and medical and dental care for her children was very difficult to encounter. There was a young girl at the age of 14 who was holding her newborn daughter. When I asked her how she liked being a mom, she didn’t respond. She just had an incredibly sad look on her face.
I remember one evening when the rain caused an accident with one of our trucks on the way down the mountain. It’s amazing that the miracle was that this truck recovered from being stuck in a ditch and drove away without a scratch. It’s important to understand that when we all learned about the accident, we all prayed fervently and soon after we learned that all was well. Amidst the problems on the road, I glimpsed the true meaning of Christian fellowship—the body of Christ in action, each member carrying burdens, sharing laughter, and finding strength in unity.
There were also moments of personal doubts. Was I really prepared to share the gospel with the children. Was my presence helpful or simply a drop in an ocean of need? In those quiet hours of uncertainty, I returned to prayer, seeking guidance and reassurance. Again and again, I witnessed God’s faithfulness—not always in grand miracles, but in the gentle persistence of hope and kindness.
A MOMENT OF CHALLENGE
An image of hopelessness & despair; still a child herself now responsible for the safety & well-being of her own child.
LOGISITCAL CHALLENGE
Each day overcoming the difficulty; transporting children over rough terrain to La Colonia for VBS.
Glimpses of Grace
Despite the challenges, grace abounded in unexpected places. I met in an older Honduran woman outside the doors of the church, and I asked her; “How do you like living here?” She replied that she and her family were at peace and free. I realized that she found peace and freedom even in poverty. No cell phone, no car or worldly material things were needed for her to live in the peace of Christ. My daily inspiration of encountering people like her who didn’t worry about not having and embraced what they had was humbling.
Or there was a young boy in our vacation bible study who arrived late for class. Come to find out he was late because he had been bitten by a scorpion on his stomach. He lifted his shirt to show me the area where he had been bitten. It looked swollen and red. I offered to take him to a doctor, but he insisted he’d be alright because his mother had treated him with lemon juice. It goes to show that these people have learned homeopathic ways to treat injuries or illnesses because they don’t have access to pharmaceutical’s.
At the last mass we gathered under a patchwork roof to celebrate a baptism and first Holy communion for seven children. The music was simple—guitars, clapping hands, and the soaring voices of those who had little gathered united by faith with us missionaries. I’ll never forget the manner that Bishop Jenry poured large bowls of water over a little 3-year-old boy fully clothed standing on top of a brown plastic chair. At the end Bishop Jenry took the remaining holy water and splashed us all with it. Then he proceeded to carry the boy upon his shoulder and danced up and down the aisle. I will never forget the joy that we all experienced watching the sacrament of baptism and first Holy communion be offered in such a lively way.
A JOYFUL CELEBRATION
Bishop Jenry honoring a fresh beginning & union with Christ; guiding the newly baptized not just on his shoulders, but on this child’s spiritual journey!
THE CALL TO SERVE
Leading over 200 children in the Catechetical teaching rotation; dancing, singing, & acknowledging God’s grace with nothing but smiles & laughter!
Transformation and Growth
My time in Honduras changed me in ways I could not have imagined. I arrived eager to give but found myself receiving far more than I offered. The humility, resourcefulness, and faith of the Honduran people challenged my assumptions and expanded my understanding of God’s kingdom.
I learned that mission is not about bringing answers, but about walking alongside others—listening, learning, and loving without condition. It is about seeing Christ in the faces of the hungry, the sick, the joyful, and the weary. Through laughter and tears, setbacks and breakthroughs, I discovered that the greatest gift I could offer was presence: to be there, fully and faithfully, at each moment.
One evening, as the sun set beyond the seashore the missionaries gathered to share on the reflection for the day. Their words, simple and sincere, brought us closer as a team and inspired us to begin thinking about returning next year. Personal testimonies of watching God’s hand at work within us and around us left me in awe of His omnipotence.
Conclusion: A Testament to God’s Faithfulness
Today, as I look back on my time in Honduras, I am filled with gratitude and joy—for the challenges that stretched my faith, the friendships that sustained me, and the glimpses of God’s kingdom that broke through in the most unexpected ways. That man who appeared in my dream I later saw in a photo. I was astonished to recognize him as Deacon Mike Mimms. Deacon Mike was the founding missionary that started our parish mission to Honduras. His appearance in my dream shows he is still interceding for the Honduran people.
My testimony is not one of grand achievements, but of small, daily acts of love and the extraordinary power of presence. Service in Honduras taught me that every act of kindness, every shared meal, every prayer whispered in hope, weaves a thread in the fabric of God’s greater story. It is a story that continues, wherever people step out in faith to love, serve, and be transformed.
May this testimony inspire others to listen for their own calling, to cross borders both literal and spiritual, and to discover the joy that comes from living fully in the purpose God has prepared for each of us.
Viva Cristo Rey,
Gisele Matthews