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It was constantly 98 degrees. It was dirty and hot. There was no running water or electricity. It was infested with huge mosquitoes that left baseball sized bumps. I would not have wanted to be anywhere else that summer. During the summer of 2001 I traveled to Honduras on a mission trip, but my preparation for the mission started during the winter. Every unpleasant, cold Saturday morning, I woke up to my alarm clock buzzing. With my feet heavy like a ton of bricks I would grudgingly drag myself out of my warm bed. As I got ready I would yell for my mom to wake up so that she could drive me to a church all the way in Virginia. We would leave the house by 4:45 a.m. Starting in the winter, I was committed to six months of missions training. Morning prayer started at 5:30 a.m., with missions training right after. I had to prepare myself not only physically, but spiritually as well. I gave up my Saturday mornings and Sunday evenings to prepare for my trip. Attendance was mandatory and homework was highly enforced. This was more of a commitment than school, but my hopes of changing others drove me to endure the training.
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