In Azacualpa, Honduras, a town nestled in a valley between lush, green mountains, only three miles from the Guatemalan border, sits a new home, a beautiful home, made of cement blocks and painted in bright, lively reds and light blues. It is quite small for American standards, smaller than the average classroom. For the family living there, however, the house is a mansion, a castle, a magnificent palace.

And compared to their old home, it most certainly is a palace, fit for a king and queen.

In January, I flew to Honduras on a mission trip with a few members from my church, First Baptist Church of Clarks Grove, and a group of people from a church in Fillmore. We went to Honduras with a specific purpose, or mission, in mind: to build a house for a needy family.

The previous January I took my first mission trip to Honduras. While there I met a girl named Nancy. She helped us build a house and we became friends. This year, we built a house for Nancy and her parents and two little brothers.

Nancy and her family used to live in a one-room structure made of sticks, mud, rocks, sheets of plastic, and anything else that could be found and used for shelter. Her entire family slept on a single mattress at night, somehow fitting all five of them on it. The house was dirty and cramped, but Nancy still managed to look nice and clean.

Nancy’s new house has three bedrooms, a bathroom with plumbing and a living area. A sidewalk runs around the house, and a veranda hangs over the back, sheltering the outdoor kitchen and part of the yard. Her new home is beautiful. And I’m happy to have helped built it.

Not only am I happy to have helped her. I feel proud and blessed, and whenever I think about Honduras and my time there an amazing joy courses through my veins. Honduras is my passion, my joy. I love the people, their beautiful skin, their language and simple way of living. Being in Honduras affects you like that. You get a different taste of living, a new perspective on life, a bit of insight into another culture. And it sticks with you.

For example, most people in Honduras live in little shacks made of sticks, mud and bits of plastic. One family crams into an eight-by-ten area. They live without electricity, and they struggle to have enough to eat every day. This is what affects you. This is what affected me. I could go on a tangent about how we take advantage of things in America that people in Honduras can’t have, but I don’t want to get into that. Though most of the people in Honduras live in poverty and struggle to survive, they are happy. They are so happy, just with the little they have. It’s amazing.

Though Nancy’s house may not seem grand (a house made of cement? Really?), I know she and her family are happy with their house, which I think is beautiful. As we worked on the house, shoveling dirt or sand into wheelbarrows or a cement mixer, I saw the smile on Nancy’s face as she helped us work. I saw her little brothers joyfully playing nearby, and her father’s smile and eyes beamed and sparkled like the sun as he watched us or helped us build his house.

Some people may question why I would use my time and money for such a trip. I wanted to experience my own joy, and bless people as I am blessed while helping them. I did this for them, I did this for me, I did this for the church, I did this for Jesus Christ. I want to be a blessing to people. I want to serve them. I want to help them.

So while helping Nancy, while building a beautiful home, a palace, for her beautiful family, I received this happiness, this joy, just knowing I helped to make their lives better. It may seem like a simple thing, a new, little house in Azacualpa, Honduras, a town nestled between lush, green mountains. But for Nancy and her family, and for me, it is so much more.

And that joy is all that matters