30 Day Blog Challenge: day 8

day 8

a place you've traveled to

I had a really hard time choosing.

Not that I've been a lot of places...but I just had to decide which one!

Mexico.

I went last September with Cait & a few others from her church.

This trip was amazing for a number of reasons.

one. I'd never gotten to go on a mission trip with one of my best friends before.

two. Cait's felt called to Mexico for years & I got to be there to see her experience that for the first time.  Best part of the trip.

three. Trying to use what little Spanish I know...& letting little kids help me & laugh at me.

four. Getting to know Mauricio, Mama Tori, & Saul.  And of course Mauricio's kids, Sophia & Gabriel.

five. Being chased around by little Mexican children scream "muchachas, muchachas, ¿chocolate, chocolate?"

six. Great pictures.

seven. Let's be honest...a week in Mexico > a week in school.

 [click to enlarge]

Back to Blogging!

Being away from civilization for a week makes it really hard to get back into the blogging world.  I'll admit that I loved being away from phone service & internet (though I discovered wifi on about the 4th day).  But...now I've been avoiding blogging about the trip because I just don't even really know where to start.

This week was great for several reasons...I loved getting to know people from my church better.  There were 8 of us in my group, so spending 24/7 with them for a week spoiled me & now it's weird when I don't see them every single day.

 Mary Ellen, McKinlie, me, & Danielle...please note that this picture was taken at 7:30 am.

...except I've still seen McKinlie every day since we got back.  She had my whole life planned out for me, in case it wasn't "in style" by the time she got around to living it (she's 15).  She had me a husband picked out, wedding planned, kids named & everything...but now she's decided that I have to be a spinster & live in her basement. 

Tangent: I love hanging out with youth.  I went to a movie with them the other night ("How to Train Your Dragon"...so cute!).  Simply going to a dollar movie & out for pizza was so much fun.  Makes me feel a lot older than them when they talk about listening to Britney in preschool...but I still love it.

So, back to ASP...we worked on a trailer all week that a tree had fallen on in a storm about a year ago.  The family that lives there is an eighteen-year-old girl, her 7-month-old little boy, & her fiance.  To be eighteen & living in the situation that she is, I think she is a pretty good mother.  The baby enjoyed us being there...he was such a people watcher, never scared by the loud hammering or sawing.

In talking to her, we found out that she grew up in church...she believes, but doesn't seem to have a relationship.  Both her parents died of cancer & some of the things that happened with the church surrounding their deaths drover her away.  Since Little Larry was born, she's felt judged by the church.  That was the saddest part of this whole situation to me.  The one place that we think people should be able to turn to was the place where she felt the most judgment.  In reality, the one place we can always turn to is Him alone.

 
Over the course of the week (we worked from about 9:30-6 or so everyday), we were able to replace a lot of the subfloor that was rotting from rain, replace 2 walls (reframed & put up siding & painted), start cutting new trusses to hold the roof up, & put in a back door & build a porch.  There will be groups working on their trailer all summer, so hopefully it will be livable soon.  They've been living in it for a year...but nothing there is up to code.  I'm sure there is mold & other dangers, so it will be such a blessing for them to safely be able to live there again. 

A thought from the week: Over & over in the Bible we see God give specific instructions, measurements even...that always seemed kind of odd to me.  (I think in my head I wondered why God cared about math.)  We read about Him giving Noah the exact measurements for the ark; we see Him telling exactly how to construct the Ark of the Covenant & detailing how it should be carried; we read the specific instructions He gave many on how & where to build altars.  This week as we ran into problems, it would've been easy to do the job "good enough."  But that never happened.  We did it right.  It would have been okay to settle for a lot of things if that was the best we could do, but because we had people who were knowledgeable about the repairs we were making, that was not acceptable.  God calls us to do & be our absolute best, & I was very proud to feel that we did that this week, even when it meant feeling like you'd wasted an hour of work, backtracking to do something the right way, tearing down a wall you'd just put up, etc. 

"I will not present burnt offerings to the Lord my God that have cost me nothing." 

2 Samuel 24:24

That trailer is our offering to God.

Whatever it cost, we did it right.

McKinlie, me, Danielle, Mary Ellen, Veronica, Coach Moore, Andrew, Kevin 

 

Funny story of the week: So, before I left I mentioned the outdoor showers...I didn't quite know what that would be like.  I forgot to take a picture, so here's one I drew to explain...

The first day, after I got over the odd feeling of being naked outside, I kind of liked it.  It's pretty nice being able to look up & see the sky while you're showering.  ;)  The water was cold, but with the sun beating down right on you, it wasn't too bad.  Well, fast forward a couple days...McKinlie, Danielle, & I are in the 3 showers, trying to hurry because we can tell it's about to storm.  Interesting conversations always took place out here...this one including "the naked pact," our pact that if any of us got struck by lightening, we would make sure she was covered up before anyone else saw her.  The only things worse than getting struck by lightening, we decided, were to get struck while you're naked, or to get struck while naked & not die.  So right after the pact was made, it starts getting windy...& the walls of my shower blow COMPLETELY open.  Kinlie's already dressed at this point, so while I'm screaming, she comes over to hold them closed...then go Danielle's.  She couldn't hold both of ours closed so we end up running, half-covered by towels, into one "stall" so McKinlie could hold the 2 walls together for us to get dressed.  As we're getting dressed, then comes the rain.  Hands down, most eventful/traumatic shower experience of my life.

The end.

P.S. Sorry for the longest blog post ever...but I'm making up for a week.

ASP

Bright & early tomorrow morning I leave for Harlan County, Kentucky for Appalachia Service Project!   (And when I say tomorrow morning, I mean less than 5 hours from now...should be sleeping.)

This means...
no cell reception.
no internet.
no air conditioning.
no hot water.
no inside showers.

And it also means...
making homes warmer, safer, & drier for the poorest of poor in Appalachia, all the while shining the love of Christ.

Back with updates in a week or so!  Be praying for the team from my church that is going, as well as the other teams that we will meet this week.  Pray for the staff at ASP & the people whose homes we will be working on.  Pray that, through us, they will see the heart of the One who loves them unconditionally.

my sunshine

I love this question because it gives me the opportunity to talk about the best summer of my life, thus far. :)

Who is your favorite summer missionary ever? 
--from a totally anonymous blogger

I'd have to say that my Chloë friend is one of my very favorite people.  We met in the summer of 2006 when we were both summer missionaries in San Antonio, Texas.  

We were there with about 30 other summer missionaries divided among seven different sites.

  

{click to enlarge}

Chloë & I worked at Palisades Park, an apartment complex right outside of San Antonio.  We did a day camp ("Rainbow Day Camp") with the kids at the apartments.  Our days were filled with Bible stories, "freeze dance," construction paper & glue, animal crackers & PBJ, & more pop ice than any one person should ever consume.    

 

{click to enlarge}

I fell in love with these kids from day one & still think about them all the time.

My favorite part of every day was "Sunshine & Cloud".

Sunshine = praise

Cloud = prayer request

{click to enlarge}

 We got ALL KINDS of crazy answers.

Common Sunshines: macaroni & cheese, frogs, hamburgers with cheese

Common Clouds: no macaroni & cheese, no frogs, no hamburgers with cheese

Not only was our summer at Palisades better than words can describe, but Chloë has been such a friend to me ever since then.  I think we're closer now than we were then, & we've only seen each other 3 times since that summer.  However, she is my a constant encouragement even from afar.  

{ & she sends me letters :) }

Chloë friend, thanks for a reason to reminisce about SA.  :)  

Love you!

Block Party

So, all week when we walked through Region 235, we'd been inviting people to our block party we were having there on Wednesday night. We were so excited & when it finally came, it went over better than I could've ever imagined.

Around 6:45 (it was starting at 7:00), there were maybe 15 people there & most were with the church. Everyone seemed a little down, but no one said anything about it. By 7:00, more chairs were being set up. We had about 200 people. This is the first time that it seemed real to me that they will have a church there & that we were seeing the beginnings of that. So good.

After the party, Pastor Marcial, Henry, & Mauricio met with the couple whose yard the church is starting in. They talked over it, Henry told them "you know Satan will attack you for this." I loved hearing that to straight forth. God is forming this church & Satan won't be happy with anyone who has anything to do with it. Pastor Marcial was crying by the end...this is something he's had a vision for for so long & it's finally happening.

A church is not a building, but a group of people with the desire to worship. And now there is a church in Region 235...

¡Viva Mexico!

Cinco de Mayo: myth. They don't even celebrate it there. If I said "today is Cinco de Mayo," they'd think..."um...yeah, & tomorrow is May 6...so what?" (except they'd think it in Spanish...). So, I think it's a myth created by Americans to have an excuse to have another day to go get drunk. But that's just my theory...

Because I'm such a scholar & crave knowledge (about once a year), I went to the most reliable source of information: Wikipedia*. September 16 is Mexican Independence Day. On September 16, 1810, a priest named Hidalgo decided he'd had enough & that they needed to revolt against Spain. So, he ordered release of any prisoners who were pro-independence. Just before midnight, he rung the church bells, called in his whole congregation, & made this big speech encouraging the people to revolt.

So now, every year on September 16, a gazillion people gather at the National Palace in Mexico City & the president repeats that same Grito de Dolores (Cry from Dolores) that Hidalgo did & then everyone shouts "¡Viva Mexico!"

Apparently, it's really exciting...like this.

All of this to say...we went to a party to celebrate & I had the best ice cream of my life. Homemade. Vanilla Coconut. In a ziploc-ish bag that you had to bite the corner off of. And then began the "Night of Brotherly Love & Hermanitas Compañeras" (as it will forever be called).

Aforementioned life-changing ice cream.
Christian rapper guy.
Mauricio's friends.
Bowling alley.
Arcade boxing game that they immensely enjoyed.
Pool.
I hit more than one ball in.
Never happened before.
Out til 2:30 am.
In Mexico.
Fun night.
¡Viva Mexico!

*Michael Scott: "Wikipedia is the best thing ever. Anyone in the world can write anything they want about any subject, so you know you are getting the best possible information."

Sometimes Missions is Bridal Gown Shopping

That's right. Sometimes missions is building a house; sometimes it's loving kids in orphanages; sometimes it's teaching VBS. And other times, it's buying a wedding dress.

So, remember the whole deal about Manuel & the wedding all? Henry decided that it would be a huge burden off Marcial's shoulders if he bought the dress for them. So we all went to the bridal store...me, Cait, Henry, Sam, Mauricio, Saul, Manuel, Elena, Marcial, & Marcial's cute wife. Quite a party. I would just like to say that if I were trying on wedding dresses and had 9 people with me, it would not be a happy experience...I can only imagine.

So she tried on dresses & we giggled & oohed & aahed & took pictures. This was such a happy moment to be a part of.

Once we walked out of the store, we all congregated on the sidewalk. The conversation between Marcial, Manuel, & Henry had us all misty-eyed.

So, sometimes missions is chicken pecking at your feet at Bible Study, & sometimes it's dress shopping. Love it.

English to Spanish to Mayan & Back Again...

Monday was our first day of prayer walking through Region 235. Prayer walking...I kind of felt like that was one of those semi-churchy phrases that I never really understood. Before I would've wondered why God would call me to walk around a poor Mayan community & pray. Seriously, wouldn't that be kind of unproductive? These people live in cardboard houses the size of my bedroom. Shouldn't we be doing something about that? I don't even speak or understand much of either language being spoken. But somehow, I didn't feel useless. I felt incredibly blessed.

Ten or fifteen of us (the 4 of us & the rest from the church) walked through 235, stopping at each corner & taking turns praying. I've never experienced anything like it...not understanding what was being said, but feeling God's presence there with us.

"Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God's grace in its various forms." -1 Peter 4:10

That night we went back out to 235 & had Bible study. Chickens & baby turkeys & roosters pecked around our feet during this. When the kids got home they chased them as the adults commenced with Bible study like nothing at all was happening around us. Loved it.

Broken

Sunday afternoon, Pastor Marcial came over & we talked with him for about two hours...heard the whole story of what's going on with his family & the church. Long story short: his 17-year-old son, Manuel, made all of these promises to his girlfriend's family with intentions to marry her - promises he couldn't keep & didn't even tell his family about. Now, I want to stop right here...this makes him sound like some rebellious teen that he's just not. He's young & in love & not making the wisest decisions, but has such a good heart & seems to really think he's doing the right thing.

Anyway...his family finally found out when he couldn't get married without their consent since he was only 17. Now her family is holding them to it & they're having to plan this big white wedding with no money. Manuel & Elena (his fiance) side with Marcial, but her family is demanding so much. It's even caused disunity within the church. It's just tearing Pastor Marcial apart.

Our 1 John Bible Study that we read that day was about fellowship. We saw a genuine picture of that today. The language barrier disappeared and we saw only a broken man talking to some strangers who soon became like family. So amazing.

Precious Kids

After church we got to spend some time with Sophia & Gabriel. Again, they're the greatest kids ever. Sweet Gabriel has more energy in his little finger than I do in my whole body, I think. He constantly ran around saying one of two things: "chocolate, chocolate...!" or "muchachas, muchachas...!" Precious.

Oh, &...he kind of has a huge crush on Caitlin.

Also, I taught Sophia how to braid that afternoon. She caught on so fast & was so proud of herself!

¡Iglesia en Mexico!

This is probably what I was most looking forward to about the whole trip. I love going to church in other places. My experience at church in Maseru was one of the best of my life, & I couldn't wait to attend church here in Cancun.

Most interesting thing I learned: they sing straight from the Bible. I might've learned something about Jesus, but my brain was lost in translation. So, I learned about Bible singing instead. For example, we turned to Psalm 134 (actually Salmos 134) & sang it. So funny. And their hymnal will go 1-some number & then start over with a random number multiple times. The precious little women kept helping us.

LOTS of singing & even more "amens." I found that they use "amen" like a "you get it?" or "you following me?" just as much as a "right on!"

The church was open - a door like a garage door that pulled down, so it was open during the service. Windows were open with bars in them. It had folding chairs for about 30 people. It's probably about half the size of my garage at home. And HOT. There was a breeze every once in awhile but I was sweating...& I'm not much of a sweater. And I don't mean one glistening drop...I mean drenched. I had to keep drinking lots of water.

I love that even though they don't have much, they make the church pretty. Behind the pulpit hung a curtain across the wall - dark red velvet with a design. In front of the pulpit was a table with a hinged wooden box. When it was time for the offering, Pastor Marcial opened the box for people to come up & put their offering in...& we sang from the Bible.

The music was...joyful. Pastor Marcial sang. LOUD. Not exactly has gift, but so heartfelt. His son, who looks like a young Mexican JTT (unless you're my mother, who totally denies the resemblance), played the keyboard & 2 other men played drums & bass. They had mics & enough speakers to host a small concert...all in this small room. Mauricio said when they have outdoor events they rent MORE speakers. Oh, & the beat...SO hard to sing with. It sounded like everyone just played at their own tempo. But I loved it...and, in the words of dear old Mrs. Camille, they sang in "the language that will be spoken in Heaven" (that's for you, Abby, Chloe, & Em).

A Confession & A Love Story

I've been both dying to catch up on my blogging & write all about Mexico...& also dreading it. I don't know why, but for some reason, it's just hanging over my head. Perhaps because I have about 25 journal entries about the trip, or perhaps because of Caitlin's intimidating post titles to live up to (which is part of why I read one of hers & quit until after I write mine).

So, now that I've gotten up my courage, I guess I'll start with the beginning (God liked to start 'in the beginning,' so I guess I'll be a follower)...

That first day seemed like it lasted a week. We'd been up since 3:15 am, been on 2 planes, & got off to a bit of a rocky start. It was all good until about 30 minutes into the first flight. Let's just say that that Starbucks pumpkin spice latte that I was SO excited about...was better the first time around. Not to be graphic, but I don't think you've thrown up until you've done so in the "lavatory" of a plane. End of story.

During our layover in Houston, my mind was racing. I didn't want to actually be sick sick (I'd been fighting a bad cold all week) & be a hindrance to any part of the trip, but I also knew for sure that God had told me to get on that plane. So...I stuck to it. Had to convince my stomach that it was a good idea, but it agreed in the end. While I sat there in the airport, I texted the TSFs & a few others & asked for prayers. Ever heard that song "Somebody's Praying Me Through"? I totally felt it.

So, pick up when we landed in Mexico. From the moment we met Mauricio, we loved him! God just shines through him in every aspect of his life, & we were privileged to find that out more & more as the week went on.

We settled into the amazing Mission House & went off to Costco (yep, in Mexico) to buy food for the week. Mauricio's kids came along & that's where I fell in love with Sophia & Gabriel. As we rambled through Costco, Sophia came over & grabbed my hand & started telling me about herself...she loves Michael Jackson (Thriller & Ghost are her favorites), High School Musical (especially Sharpay...go figure), Jonas Brothers, Camp Rock, & Barbies & her favorite color is pink. My kind of girl. She learns English at school & communicates very well (it helps that both her parents are fluent). When there was a word she didn't know, she was really good about describing it until we figured out the right word. Her shirt had the words "peace, hope, & love." She said "hope is what we have in God...do you have God's hope?" I genuinely believe she understands. When we were waiting in line she randomly asked me why we grow & plants grow & other things don't. She pointed to the buggy as an example. I said, "well...what makes us different from those things?" She thought for a minute & said "those are plastic or wood or metal. God didn't make us out of that." So we talked about how God gave us a heart & lungs & a brain. She said, "yes, & a hart to love him & all others." She's seven & she totally gets what life is all about. It's the most incredible thing I've ever seen.

Day 1 & already in love...

LOVING Mexico!

Many, many more blogs to come about Mexico, but for now...things to be praying for while we're still here.

• Our block party tonight - we've passed out fliers about it to the Mayan community - thousands live here, so many have the opportunity to come.
• Cait & I giving our testimonies tonight - kind of nervous about doing this with a translator. It's always scary talking in front of a big group, but especially when they don't understand a word you're saying & someone else is translating & you're afraid you'll lose your train of thought.
• Pastor Marceal & his family
• Mauricio

Thanks for sharing this with me! I am so excited about telling you everything else when I get home!

Aquí estoy. ¡Envíame a mí!

"Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?' And I said, 'Here am I. Send me!'" - Isaiah 6:8
A few weeks ago Cait called & said that she was the only girl going on the Mexico mission trip with her church & had been asked to recruit some more. Anytime this happens, I immediately want to go & have to reign in my emotions & my heart & decide if it's what God wants or what I want.
Now let me just set the stage for you: Sara had gotten home from Swaziland 5 days before. I'd just been at my aunt's going through all of her pictures from the Dominican. Sweet Emily Cates had just gotten home from a summer in India. John-Michael was en route from Malawi. And my heart was anywhere but Madison, Georgia. I'd just been telling someone a few days before about how I knew I did the right thing this summer, going to school & working...but I just really needed to go somewhere. I'm not at all saying that you have to go somewhere to do missions, because that's just not true. But, I felt that tug at my heart to go, to serve, to love, to push everything else aside & just be with people.
You can imagine how easy it was to think "oh, I'd just been having this conversation...this obviously means God's telling me to go." But I wanted to have total permission from God before I made that decision. I started praying about it, a little worried because I knew I needed to know in about a week. For the first few days I didn't really feel like God was giving me a clear answer. Then I began to see doors opening. When I first talked about it with my parents, they were all for it. That's never happened. My parents are both very sensible &, not that they don't want me going on mission trips, but they're going to first ask all of the detailed questions...what about missing school? How much is it? How are you going to pay for it? Do you have that much money? This is pretty soon...are you sure? You know...typical parent stuff. Nothing. Immediately agreed.
The next few days I spent praying about it some more & God pointed me to this verse: "For the Lord gives wisdom & from his mouth come knowledge & understanding." -Colossians 1:9-14
That was the assurance that I needed to know that an answer was coming. And it did, & that's a yes!
Now, two weeks into the semester, I've talked to most of my professors about it & have poured over syllabi making sure I have things all figured out. No professor has questioned my decision to go so early into the semester. No one has been critical in the slightest way. Several of my classes aren't meeting that week. One professor suddenly decided to meet online one day a week. It's all falling into place.
All of that being said...I ask you to rejoice with us as we prepare to go (17 days!) & pray for the hearts of those we will meet. We'll be starting a church outside of Cancun, working with Mayan people. And...that's about all I know at this point. But pray for those people we'll meet there & for God's work in their lives. Also pray for the team of about five or six that is going & that we will prepare our hearts & truly seek God on this trip.

Senior Year...Not Exactly like High School Musical

So, tomorrow is my very last first day of school!

Bittersweet.

Sweet: I'm not exactly in love with class.

Bitter: I have no clue what lies next.

Ok, not exactly bitter. The past few years I've kind of been proud of myself for not trying to plan the next phase of my life before God had shown me the way. However, now I feel like I should have at least some idea of where this road is going.

I really kind of picked an English major because a) I didn't know what else to do, b) I'd already tried several options, c) I had to find something that I could stand just long enough to have a diploma in hand. I like it fine, but it's not like I want to read & write for the rest of my life. Ok, so maybe I do...but I don't want to be made to.

Other options...photography. Love it. I don't feel like I know much about it though. Anything I can do is just what I was born with. Not a lot of knowledge. I've thought about taking some classes next year. Still...that's something I enjoy doing, but in the words of my hero, Justin Matisse, "You take something you love...twist it, turn it, try to find a way to make money at it...in the end you can't even remember what you started out loving." I don't want that.

Lately I've been wondering...I've felt a calling to missions since middle school. First I thought I'd live in some faraway place & lead some daring & adventurous life. Then I realized that a call to missions is a daily thing. We're all called to be missionaries in life...whether that's in the remotest village in Africa, or behind a desk at a 9 to 5 job in the U.S. I thought maybe I'm "just" supposed to be a missionary here. Just been pondering that lately...maybe what I'm really called to is a mix of the two?

My Heart

Sara is finally home! Yesterday I was getting dressed...had picked out my shirt, went to the laundry room to get my skirt, & saw my Swazi shirt. I really felt like I needed to wear it. So, I put it on instead & minutes later got a text from Sara saying she was home!

I know how hard it is to come home after having been with the same people for months - living together, serving together, worshiping together, praying together. The time that I've felt this ache the most was when I came home from San Antonio the summer after my freshman year. I'd been there for two & a half months doing children's ministry with 30 other summer missionaries. They had become my family. The kids I spent day after day with had become my kids. I remember sitting on the plane to come home & just crying thinking that nothing would ever be the same again. I was right. I'm not the same. I'm better.

My problem wasn't just that I was going to miss the kids. I was. But more so, I worried about them. When I was there, I knew they were okay. If nothing else, I was their advocate. I knew that they were eating at least once or twice a day. I knew that they were getting attention. That they were prayed for. That they were hugged. I knew that they were seeing what little bit of God's love that I could show them everyday.

Talking to Sara made me think about all this again. I still think about my kids all the time. I could still tell you all of their names. I still get letters from a few of them occasionally. And I still miss them terribly. I had to realize that by leaving, I was truly placing them in God's care & that that was way better than anything that I could ever do for them. I have to trust that He can love them better than I can, feed them better, teach them better.

So tonight as I was thinking about this, I imagined how it must have been for Jesus to go back to Heaven after He'd been on earth for some thirty years. Just as I was excited to go home, you know He was excited to go back to Heaven. I mean...it's Heaven. But it had to have been bittersweet. He was leaving a ministry that He'd invested in for His entire life. The human part of Him had to trust that His Father's plan was perfect.

"I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud & mire; he set my feet on a rock & gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see & fear & put their trust in the Lord."
-Psalm 40:1-3

"My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me."
-Psalm 63:8

Cannot Let You Go

With some of my girls preparing to leave for life-changing summers, there are a lot of people on my mind. Children who still hold part of my heart & always will.

Now that I have seen
I am responsible
Faith without deeds is dead
Now that I have held you
In my own arms
I cannot let go till you are...
And I am on a plane
Across a distant sea
But I carry you in me
"Albertine" by Brooke Fraser
I carry them in my heart & wouldn't have it any other day. They've impacted my life in ways they will never know. It's doubtful that I will ever see any of them again, but they are in my prayers as much as those people I see everyday.

God, thank you for these precious children. Thank you for Tupeso, Nkete, & Marisela. Thank you for Olga, Katrina, Kyle, Sunam, Vanessa, Brooke, Ashley, Jade, Kalli, Isaiah, Elijah, Parker, Jonathan, & Saxon. Thank you for all of those whose names I don't know. Thank you for allowing me to hold them in my arms. For being with them no matter their situation. For loving them, though society deems them unlovable.

The Eyes of Hope

This is something I wrote for my Advanced Comp class. We had to write a "place essay," so naturally, I chose Africa...

The most prevalent sight from my short time in Lesotho can be summed up by one photograph. It’s one of a young girl. Her bright blue school uniform gave youth to her dark eyes that had seen too much in her short life. Through the lens of my camera, it was the only color amidst the drab, despondent world that surrounded her. She stood in a field smiling back at me.

That was at Bobete, an AIDS clinic that was hidden within the landscape of blue mountains. The lines that had formed outside of the harsh, gray concrete buildings of the clinic appeared stagnant, motionless. Chickens roamed the grounds freely, a light breeze blew, and the voices of nomadic merchants could be heard as they passed by the chain-link fence that drew a boundary between the clinic and the rest of the world. I wondered what happened within those mysterious concrete walls. Eventually a young Italian doctor emerged from the gray building. Her warm smile and vibrant red curls brought a sense of life to the otherwise lifeless clinic. Her eyes smiled, juxtaposing the dark, diseased ones of the patients.

As I walked back to the small plane that had brought us to Bobete, I saw the young girl. As we stood in a trance, each taking in the other, I heard the propeller of the plane indicating that it was time to go. There was a chain-link fence between myself and the girl, but for that one moment, we connected. Through the fence of poverty, disease, and confusion, I saw something in her eyes – I think it was hope.

This photograph paints a picture of the people we long to serve. We see them stifled by poverty and sickness, but what we also see is that they do not have the same ideals as Americans. We strive to make them like us – think like us, reason like us, live like us. While they are living in squalor, dying off by the second, we want to give them washers and dryers, computers, and books. These things are all important, but more important is a smile, a listening ear, a prayer.

I believe this young girl represents so many societies in third-world countries. The fence that encages her suffocates the very real potential that is within her. She did not look at me and desire money, or clothes, or even food. I think she just wanted me to smile at her, to see the hope in her eyes, and to believe in her.