Location: A Remote Village in the Mountains of Honduras An Abandoned Wycliffe Compound Miles from any road bigger than a two-track. There he sat. A boy about eight years old. At the top of the hill overlooking a Wycliffe compound. He pulled at the grass and fiddled with the earth while watching us, and, I think unknown to him, in my view. About thirty of us sat in an early morning meeting huddled on benches set in a circle. Doctors, nurses, child ministry workers, and teen translators gathered that morning first for Scripture reading, a devotion, songs of praise, then to divide into teams and head out to villages beyond the two tracks. According to officials, medical workers rarely came to this boy's village and the ones beyond. The boy probably couldn't understand the mixture of Honduran, Guatemalan, Nicaraguan, American, and Canadian languages spoken by our blended medical team sent to help him and others. But...
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