This is the first summer since then that I will not be spending a week at Rancho 3M, a home to many children in that city.
Emerging out of that van and being surrounded by lovable, yet unfamiliar faces was honestly overwhelming. Yet, the children were eager to get to know you and know your name.
My first couple of days there were somewhat lonely because I felt that I couldn't really relate to these kids. I was a white girl from "Los Estados Unidos" who'd never had to spend more than a day without even speaking to her parents against her will. Who'd never had to wonder if she'd see them on Sunday afternoon for their weekly visit. Not to mention I hardly even spoke a word of Spanish.
I think I felt intimidated.
It wasn't until a few days later that I realized something so simple. That is the fact that we all have the same savior, and isn't that enough?
It doesn't mean that we've experienced the same trials, or diminish the challenges, but it is enough, and I've found it to be glorious.
I can't say that the rest of the trip (or the trip the following summer) was a revelation, but that idea has stuck with me every since. And I know that I want to see more of that.
So here I am, two years later, finding myself missing the place that a work began in me, thousands of miles away. The place where sunsets look like the sky is on fire, where kids dance and play in the rain that cools the air in minutes. Where the power in the whole city can go out all at once, leaving a canvas of stars in the sky. Where they worship God in words I don't understand.
God, give me more.
(More on last year's journey here)
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