I was sitting in the traveling minivan for hours, staring outside and listening to the excited conversations between the people in the car, when all activity came to a halt. Confused, I looked outside and noticed things had changed. An hour ago we passed the "happiest place on Earth," Disneyland, and thirty minutes ago we passed by the beautiful San Diego waters, but now all we could see was dirt and men with huge machine guns and cold stares. We had passed the border into Mexico. In the summer of 2014, I went on a week-long mission trip called AMOR to Tijuana, Mexico with my church to build a house for a less-fortunate family. As my compassion has always been strong, I was always itching to step outside my comfort zone to help families and individuals that didn't have the privileges I had. Although I knew no one there and knew nothing about missions, with nervousness and excitement I embarked into the pitch black cave that was going to spark a change in my view of people.
At the work site, I was challenged physically and mentally in ways I never thought possible. From mixing/carrying extremely heavy loads of concrete, to shoveling, sawing and hammering nonstop in the blazing sun, I was getting pushed beyond my limits. After the first work day, I couldn't clench my fist without grunting and tensing up in pain, and neither could I hold a spoon without shaking uncontrollably. But once I got used to the work load and pain, I opened my eyes to the things I haven't noticed before: the minivan shook uncontrollably when driving back and forth as the "roads" were just dirt, there were countless numbers of stray dogs running around in the streets, and families with more kids than they can afford because of the lack of birth control, we were getting stomach pains due to the dirty drinking water, and we had to do our "business" not in a toilet, but in a hole in the ground.
