Breakfast was quesadillas in corn tortillas, with beans and avocado, plus the regular juice, watermelon, and papaya.
Our morning devotion included some singing with Deacon Carlos playing Abigail’s guitar.
The ladies didn’t need any help in the kitchen, so Abigail and I sat down to learn some guitar chords. I showed her D, G, A, and Em. Hispanics use Solfege to name the chords, so D is Re, G is Sol, A is La, and Em is Mi menor, or just Mim.
Otherwise, I spent a LOT of time just sitting around. Had some good conversation with Rhonda and Abigail, some with Maricela. Rhonda and I would like to start a GoFundMe or something to raise support for Abigail’s college expenses, especially if she needs to rent an apartment. The diocese was to send the family to Tegucigalpa for his next call, in which case Abigail could live at home, but it is possible they may be asked to stay at San José de la Montaña. Anyway, as much as I enjoy being with the kids or talking with folks, it takes a toll in terms of psychological energy and anxiety.
The kids played on Amy’s tablet quite a bit. They each individually asked my permission, and took turns easily.
I did get to help a bit with the stove, finding the measuring tape when Carlos needed it, bringing another two shovelfuls of concrete over, and holding the pipe in place while he put concrete and a box of firebrick around it.
The church women have made special food for us, the kind of things normally reserved for birthdays and such. Yesterday lunch was fried tilapia with beans and rice and pica, a mix of onions, lime juice, and jalapeños. In the afternoon there’s a coffee break. Yesterday they made homemade donuts, and today pastelitos, fried hand pies filled with chicken and shredded vegetables.
The skeleton of the new roof is taking shape. Padre Marco is welding the steel beams together, sometimes precariously from the very top of the stepladder, secured by the hands of one or two others. Wednesday I think the plan is to pour the new floor. Pour is perhaps misleading. It may be poured one shovelful at a time, or perhaps aided by the wheelbarrow.
After work we stopped at the supermarket. I needed that Lindt 85% cocoa bar. Got some almonds to go with.
At dinner Byron, Marilyn, Freddy, and I were at one end of the table and heard Freddy’s story, of how he came to learn English, and along the way all the things he has learned to do. He worked as a tailor for a time, and if he had a commercial machine and a serger, he could earn a good bit of extra money in the sometimes long stretches between short-term teams. A good sewing machine could cost about $500.
Then we crashed, and then we woke up; another day.