This journey started with only two small suitcases: my personal suitcase filled with all the necessities for a week and an old donated suitcase filled to the maximum with medical supplies, school supplies, toys, and a variety of clothing for any age. Summer vacation took me across the border to help out a small church in Ticúl, Mexico. Knowing little of the work I would be doing, I boarded the plane and watched the land I knew disappear beneath me. A whole new experience would change the passion I had captured in life.

When the plane landed, a whole new world surrounded me. As a tall person, nothing has ever made me feel so until landing, in this world, surrounded by incomprehensible reading and talking. Being a minority made me feel like a four leaf clover in a clover patch. Luckily, I traveled with people who had done this for years and knew the language clearly, so I followed behind like a tail on a kite. When freedom from the chaotic airport looked so light and free, I halted to the shine of a red light. While trying to stay calm on the outside, I freaked out on the inside thinking, ‘What if I can’t get in? What if I have to go back alone? What if, what if, what if!’ While a lady searched my entire luggage and asked me about some of the items in my bag, I felt like a powerless, tiny mouse in a mousetrap.

Hours later in the middle of the night, the bus I traveled on stopped in front of a small newer looking house where along with my luggage I was given a bright handmade hammock. Then I was sent off in car with a stranger I never even met before; in fact, he took me to a house I would be calling home for a week. It turned out that I didn’t have a native family to stay with, so I had to stay with my group leaders, which turned out fine; but I really wanted the connection made by staying with a host family and to experience the different cultural lifestyle. Little did I know, that in a few days my wish would be granted, and I would move into a house for only two days.

I dreaded the early wake up call on Monday morning because I had group activities late at night when the heat simmered a little. In another house a few blocks away, I had a homemade breakfast cooked outside on a small grill looking stove because the family did not own appliances like we own. A group of women prepared an organic meal made from fresh ingredients then served it on Corelle salad-sized plates. The invasion of flavor from the food that looked inedible surprised my shy taste buds. Every morning they would have breakfast made even when they didn’t have to prepare a big meal.

Soon I found myself at the church work site where laying down a cement floor with my group members would be our job. We had to do the work without a cement truck, electrical type of mixer, and heavy equipment. To complete the job, we had our hands, the man in charge, a mound of rocks, a mound of sand, bags of cement mix, a water supply, some buckets, and a few shovels. Impossible as the job sounds, with all our manpower, mixing cement by hand in about two days the floor was done, and we progressed to the roof. Near the unfinished building was the unsteadiest looking platform ever made, and people had to stand on the rickety platform and lift buckets half full of cement up to the roof. This system took about seven to eight people. The pit of my stomach felt tight with nerves because it looked unsafe and dangerous. However, seeing the appreciation in the faces of the joyful people inspired me to want to continue mission work no matter how tiring or exhausting it can become.

Work hours were only in the morning because the heat made it intolerable to work past the noon hours into the day, so I emerged myself into this culture I have only read about in textbooks. Small shops selling shoes, clothes, plastics, pottery, or limited electronics lined the major part of town. Buildings were painted bright cheerful colors; even the bottoms of tree trunks were painted for decoration. Each property had a kind of wall or gate surrounding the house, and on top of the walls would be a wire of broken glass to protect their homes to make it harder to climb over. In the Yucatan a home with out barrier around it can be taken by anyone, so using stones, cement, or an iron gate is a clever way to claim ownership with the materials they have. Most of the homes were not lavish and had only the basics; in fact, out of my window I could clearly see the house across from me. They had a small wall around their house with a metal garden gate to the walk path. The door was constructed from the metal coil from a mattress, and a piece of thin board protected the entrance of their home. Their house looked like one of those shabby houses that might be seen on the cover of National Geographic. Stray skinny dogs roamed the streets, which were littered with just about any piece of garbage filling the air with an unsanitary smell.

‘Can I really do this?’ I thought to myself the first time I stepped into a bathroom with a curtain for a door and a toilet without a toilet seat. Using the bathroom was the hardest fear to overcome. Toilet paper was not allowed to be flushed, and because of a limited water supply, we had to use the rule “If it’s yellow let it mellow. If it’s brown, flush it down.” Also, showers dribbled out water, and to save water I was told, “Rinse, turn off the shower, soap up, and rinse off.” Hot showers were taken at night since the water tank sat in the sun all day, and cold showers were taken in the morning since the sun cannot heat up the water at night. Most homes had tile or cement floors because tile or cement made it easier to clean the sand brought in by2 shoes; also, it is more economical to use a broom, not a vacuum cleaner. Everyone slept in hammocks because of the creepy crawlies that sneak into the house, and they could fit more people into a room.

Families had bonding time by having fun with one another playing silly games, laughing, joking, and making sure everyone participated. Families really care about one another; for example, the mother was upset because her husband came home drunk and wanted to take the car out. Her feelings swept through the room, and her pain could be felt throughout each person. Her son David and other family members rushed to reassure her.

A town mixed with extreme magnificence in culture and utter disgust implanted a seedling of love inside my nurturing heart. I grew an enormous admiration for this beautiful, grimy place. These people have hardly anything physically worth value, yet they have spirit and soul. Taking everything I learned out of the mission trip ignited my inspiration and passion of missionary to reach out more.