EL PASO – America is my home, where I’m most at peace, most comfortable, a place that embraces living in comfort, however, some years ago I realized that being comfortable was a problem.
I had just come back from a church mission trip to Bangalore, India, where I saw and learned how to live a simple and humble life, how to be OK with eating rice and curry for 14 days and showering twice a week with cold water. It was a life that focused primarily on needs and not on wants.
I came back and unfortunately, as time went by, it was easy to push that idea aside and continue with my American life. Occasionally, I would recall the memories of that trip, which I still hold dear, but I would soon put it aside, getting caught up in the busyness that is the American Dream.
About a month ago I had the privilege to lead a group of high school students on a Baptist church mission trip to Guatemala, a country known for its Mayan ruins, its political instability, but also for its poor people. Forty-two high school students and eight adult leaders from El Paso used their spring break as an opportunity to share their faith, serve, and love the people of Guatemala. We would feed the hungry, serve orphans, and visit the suffering.
The interactions with children in Guatemala provided a new life perspective for Veronica. (Veronica Enriquez/ Borderzine.com)
That was my tenth mission trip to Guatemala and I knew what to expect. I knew that one gets more out of serving others than serving oneself. I knew that I was to be thankful of the blessings in my life back home, and I knew that being outside of the comfort zone changes perspectives. I wasn’t sure if this trip would be the same or different from others I’d been on.
There was a moment in the short week I was there that awakened pure joy and attention, more than the rest of the trip. It took place on the Thursday morning we were there. At 9:15 in the morning we hopped on the school bus like the other days and drove toward Casa Bernabé, a foundation protecting orphaned children. The compound was 13 acres large and beautiful, away from the city, and for the first time during the week we were able to breath fresh air.
The moment we hopped off the bus about 85 boys and girls stormed toward us and the fun began. In the middle of the crowd I saw the sweet face of an eight-year-old girl named Marina. Her sweet smile and her almond shaped brown eyes captured my attention. She became my shadow that morning, and the time spent with her was my favorite time throughout the trip.
I could not help but wonder the reasons she was at Casa Bernabé, pondering on what difficult living situation she must have been in, in order to be here. Was she orphaned? Abandoned? Abused? Would she ever be adopted? I never found out.
Despite whatever circumstance Marina had been through, she loved me fully and unconditionally during our five hours together. Without knowing each other’s backgrounds, we played with face paint, balloons, hand games, and soccer. She was shy but at the same time open about her favorite things, such as playing on the monkey bars.
When it was time to go, her small hands squeezed my hand and said a send-off prayer for me, not realizing that she blessed me more than I could ever bless her. After several hugs and goodbyes she walked away, and I was left with a moment of reflection and gratitude. Leaving her wasn’t easy, especially knowing that I would never see her again.
Reflecting back on what I learned from Marina, I realized that before meeting her I had fallen into the arrogant trap of thinking I had nothing new to learn about this country and its people.
Coming back to America is always a challenge when one goes to a developing country and observes extreme poverty and need. I’ve never had an easy time with that transition. It’s like experiencing a reverse culture shock, in which I’m shocked not by the way other people live in other countries, but by how people live in America.
Although I’m not one to get easily angered, coming back home makes me angry, angry about our consumer-driven culture, angry at the American dream of material comfort, and angry that we are so stuck in complacency.
It’s hard for me to love and have compassion for some Americans knowing that most of their life they have worried selfishly only about themselves. At the same time, I understand they haven’t had the same opportunity to see Third-World poverty first hand. When I come to those moments of inner frustration, I wish that Americans could get to know people like Marina. Even when she did not know me she loved me unconditionally, fully, and without judgment. Her child-like love reminds me to love others fully and unconditionally despite where they are or where they have been.
As I go throughout my daily routine, I try to better myself by not living a life of complacency or comfort, but rather one that steps out to new perspectives loving without boundaries.
Great work!
Thanks Gustavo!