The other week, I found myself in a humid hotel café in Saba, Honduras, sipping blazing hot, very dark coffee. Too cheap to pay for the international plan for my cell phone, I was soaking up some WiFi before the work of the day with my mission partners from Children of Soledad. I mindlessly scrolled through the US news sites and read about current events back home. Suddenly, from my dusty Honduran vantage point, I was pierced by the words...