Norma Love is a woman who works diligently to serve the people of Honduras.Last fall,Hurricane Mitch ravaged the area,leaving her people hungry and helpless.Norma shares how our Mission of Love donations nourished these broken people.This heart wrenching excerpt from her newsletter will remind you how valuable your donations of food,medicine,supplies,and time really are.

For the first time in history,I do not need to describe our plight in hondurus.We have lived and are still living a tragedy of unforseen magnitude.When Hurricane Mitch ripped through the country it disabled the entire nation.

Stories of sadness and rescue,bravery and grief circulate all over Honduras.I have not heard a fraction of them all.But I know my people,the ones I have come to love more and more deeply as I serve them with all my strength.My little flock of indigenous villagers has grown to 8500.These are the ones I come into contact with and and who turn to me for the support they need.

I heard about Mitch as it gathered Strength in the Carribean,but as we had no television in our village,we could not imagine the size and power it contained.On October 29,I was in Puerto Lempira,a port city that is about 3 hours from Mocoron.As the largest and only modern city in the entire territory,I saw the satellite pictures of Hurricane Mitch on television.All predictions said that Mitch was heading straight for La Mosquita.Everyone in Puerto Lempira was frantic with preparations.Villagers from the exposed coastline were already pouring into refuge centers and everyone was trying to protect themselves and their property.Some were hiding goods in the ground,others lashing things together,and many were gathering in the strongest buildings for safety.

Running Like the Wind

As we realized how very near we were to disaster,my husband Horacio and I knew we had to get back home to Mocoron.We drove our truck faster than we had ever attempted down the winding dirt strip to Mocoron.We had only been fleeing one hour when the trees began whipping around from the strong wind.We looked behind us and were shocked to see that Puerto Lempira was covered in blackness.With the roar of the wind in our ears and terror in our hearts we raced toward Mocoron.Several times we had to make our own new road through areas that were impassable.When we came to a stream in a little crevice we could find no way around it.We floored the accelerator and jumped the creek,intent upon out racing the storm.At last we arrived at a silent village.Most everyone had hidden themselves in the protective hills East of Mocoron. A few gathered in ramshackle churches where they felt their faith would protect them.Refugees also filled the only cement buildings in the village,the schoolhouse and the clinic.Horacio and I huddled with two others in our guest house,which was farther from the river than our home.The winds blew relentlessly for a time but the rains were the truely damaging element.We watched helplessly as the slow moving river became a torrent of mud,swelling past its' borders and flowing into our homes.

For four days we knew nothing of the outside world and received no help of any kind.Finally on November 2,two Honduran helicopters brought us some relief.We learned that Hurricane Mitch had not unleashed all his fury upon the Mesquite Coast-- the entire country was devastated.With this news the helicopters left us to wonder what would become of us.

Fed as with Manna in the Wilderness

In a way I could not imagine,the Lord opened a way for us to live.the first plane packed full with 35,000 pounds of food and medicine landed nearby.Kathy Price,a friend from Youngstown Ohio,had sent us a wonderful blessing.When the pilot landed at the military base located about 20 minutes from my home he said,"I have brought supplies for Norma Love and can release them to no one else."Immediately a military officer came to get me.I rushed to the airstrip and was so overjoyed to see the cargo full with sacks of rice and boxes of food.

I was so thankful that the supplies came to me.I do not get involved in war,politics,racism,or religion.If someone comes to me,I dont care who they are,I help them.When I saw the buging bags in the belly of the plane,there was no question in my mind what I would do.I would seperate it into even portionsfor every person in my reach.

Swarming like ants to honey,the villagers arrived at the airstrip.The word had spread quickly,and with many willing hands the work of unloading was soon finished.Using a recent census we figured the amounts for each village.Driven by hope,we worked night and day to sort and organize the food into bags for each family.

River of Tears

Shortly after the storm,the leaders of a village called Pranza came to me and described their desperate state.Situated on the Coco River,Pranza had suffered untold sadness.Many watched family and friends drowning in the river but could not save them.Whole houses floated downstream,as well as cows,dogs and other animals.Greif stricken,the survivors were without food for 7 days.Walking every step of the way,the leaders sought my assistance as they told of 400 children starving there.They were willing to carry the food on their backs or drag it behind them if necessary."We must save our children'"they said.

Pranza was our first stop.Transporting the food in an old overloaded truck,we reached the village only by the grace of God.Our supplies literally filled the mouths of those who were crying,weak and terrified.Each family received a bag with cans of beans,meat,rice and other emergency food.They also received medical supplies according to their needs.After Pranza,we made our way to other villages,with the insurmountable task of reaching thousands,which were spread across the territory with damaged roads and flooded rivers.Even I was losing hope.I prayed for more help to come from somewhere.