It took me by surprise, as a wind drifted back into your life, like a familiar friend returning. As I stood there in the chapel a scene flashed before my eyes. A cobblestone patio under our feet, a towering church above. A view of the deepening valley across the way. Lime trees and interesting flowers and children holding parrots, little red taxis and houses with stores on the porches, a television playing Spanish Mulan. The smell of tortillas and mangos lingering in the air.
Our youth group had gone exploring around San Gabriel and had happened upon quiet streets and little shops. I remember it like it was a fond dream of yesterday. We were thirsty so we stopped by one for a bottle of water and I distinctly remember accidentally leaving an old pop bottle there. I remember walking up the streets and feeling like I was finally living, like I had finally accomplished my dreams. It was only one moment in time but one of my favorites to remember. One of the ones I can barely believe happened and know will never happen the exact way again. But I am thankful for it. The flashback lasted not a second but I continued on (in the middle of the service) in releasing my old memories of that trip to Mexico, only a year ago. I stood there still, listening and thinking. Reminiscing to my heart's content, I half-listened to the sermon and jotted down notes from both halves of my thoughts. Every once in while this phenomenon happens. Often I am going about my normal life and suddenly a flashback takes ahold of my brain like I never remembered before. It seems so long ago, like a distant dream with occasional vivid memories. But I will never forget the feeling of foreign missions, the feeling of just being there among the people, the feeling of going into the unknown with God by my side, the feeling of looking out the plane before we arrived and wondering at the vast sun-glazed mountains. The feeling of sitting on a bench in a rattling, storm-pounding church surrounded by the Spanish language, enamored while picking up a few words. The feeling of ankle-deep floods washing down the streets of Oaxaca city, the sound of laughter and panicking and interacting with the children and laughing about my inside-out umbrella. The feeling of going on a wild truck ride up the swervy mountains, the feeling of exploring the waterfall on the way, and the trails at the top. The feeling of sitting on the window ledge at the tiny church in Bugambilias, posing for an epic picture, and dangling my legs out the window to catch the sprinkling rain. And the feeling of interacting with the people, trying with fails to reach out to them and communicate. At the orphanage and playing games with the youth group and hiking in the mountains. Teaching the alphabets to each other and complimenting each others' backpacks. Talking about la tienda and el bano and takis and la pelicula. Somehow as the days went along, the English and Spanish muddled together and it all made sense. I had almost forgotten about the language barrier. And as I look back now, I can't tell you how I ever understood them or talked to them. We had lots of laughs and mess-ups but somehow we became fast friends, close to each other without ever fully understanding what the other was saying. It was the most amazing time of my little life. The mission trip was not about me, I know. It was not about me exploring or having fun. It was about God working and Him using us and impacting us. It's not about me. But all the memories I vaguely hold launched a newfound passion for ministry, a passion for the Great Commission anywhere not just mission trips. Mexico is the place I will always hold dear and maybe never return; maybe I'll never explore again. But the lessons I learned there have stuck with me forever. God is unpredictable but faithful. However He will never go outside of his character: He is trustworthy and powerful all of the time. When things go wrong He is there to pick us up! He shows his power in the midst of distress and stress and works miracles we may see or not see. All to show his glory. God is love. Throughout the world, God is there in every culture and every place no matter the language. He brought us together in spite of the language barriers. When we went to that church we gave testimonies and sung songs in both Spanish and English, at the same time. I could have possibly imagined something like it, but it was simply amazing to see with my own eyes. Relax! We in my busy American land are often busy and stressed and often running by a schedule. There in the town of San Gabriel, many people sit or relax or wait around on the dusty roads without a rushing mindset. They care for and take time for each other. People come first and a project comes later. They ALWAYS greet each other on the street and take the time in the middle of the church service to shake EVERYONE's hand! Music is played and announcements are chanted over the loudspeakers to the whole town. Stores are on every street and in most houses. And they took the time to sit and eat and play games with us, not running by a schedule. Supper often ended up at 10 o'clock at night! Oh well, we survived! :P Have patience. In San Gabriel we would have to wait for people to start talking or playing games so we could get on to the next thing. They just laugh and stand around and help each other without being asked! When we were on the coast, a couple youth group members went over to this random lady and helped her skin a giant fish! They are all inspiring to us Americans who are used to selfish busyness, and I'm sure we all stretched our patience skills that week. I am forever marked by my experiences there. My sad-wrinkled brow and my missing piece in my heart as I type demonstrate that. The culture shock going there was non-existent; the culture shock returning home still has ahold of me. Many months have passed and I still, every once in a while, stroke my Mexico scrapbook to calm my strained heart. But I am glad for it, because without memories what purpose would these trips hold? And without lessons to learn, what point is there in being taught? I'm glad I was taught, for as our youth pastor said, Mexico impacted us.
1 Comment
2/28/2017 01:41:16 pm
This is amazing! Thank you so much for sharing this with us!
Reply
Leave a Reply. |
about the authorAs a 21 year old aspiring teacher, Karissa loves to write, travel, play piano, and read. Many creative things have her heart. archives
November 2021
latest video: |