As my trip to Mexico with the Baja Missions group came to a close, I couldn't help but realize the great number of traits we all share with the poverty-stricken population of Camalu. Throughout my week in the desert area, I got to see, hear, and feel the troubles and trials of a people that I thought to be much different than myself. I interacted with children who depend on the generous hands of others for their very lives.
However, what I noticed most was their overwhelming desire to be touched, held, and loved. It mattered not to Mani that he was wearing the same dirt-ridden outfit that he had worn the entire previous week. His hunger pangs did not overwhelm him as he kicked his partially-deflated soccer ball around the weeded desert lot. His few hours of interrupted sleep under a tarped roof and on a disgarded mattress was enough to get him through another smiling day in his life of hard knocks without complaint. However, as soon as Mani got the chance, he only asked the simple favor of being held. The touch of another human being--even one that knew nothing of his rough-and-tumble upbringing--was all he longed for. Mani could go without the rice and beans rations for a few days. Mani could even live through a few cold and sleepless nights. He could gather dirt smudges on his one set of clothing for a year, but he couldn't go on much longer without the loving touch of another.
This is what makes you and I just like Mani. During my week in Camalu, Baja California, I missed the touch and the presence of those closest to me. I longed to be held just like Mani. I wanted so badly to just be next to someone and feel their presence.
After experiencing this Baja Missions trip, I now realize why everyone who is willing and able should take part. Even if you can't dig a hole, push a wheelbarrow, take someone's blood pressure, or speak the native tongue, you can hold a child. It was worth the 1700 miles to hold a child.
However, what I noticed most was their overwhelming desire to be touched, held, and loved. It mattered not to Mani that he was wearing the same dirt-ridden outfit that he had worn the entire previous week. His hunger pangs did not overwhelm him as he kicked his partially-deflated soccer ball around the weeded desert lot. His few hours of interrupted sleep under a tarped roof and on a disgarded mattress was enough to get him through another smiling day in his life of hard knocks without complaint. However, as soon as Mani got the chance, he only asked the simple favor of being held. The touch of another human being--even one that knew nothing of his rough-and-tumble upbringing--was all he longed for. Mani could go without the rice and beans rations for a few days. Mani could even live through a few cold and sleepless nights. He could gather dirt smudges on his one set of clothing for a year, but he couldn't go on much longer without the loving touch of another.
This is what makes you and I just like Mani. During my week in Camalu, Baja California, I missed the touch and the presence of those closest to me. I longed to be held just like Mani. I wanted so badly to just be next to someone and feel their presence.
After experiencing this Baja Missions trip, I now realize why everyone who is willing and able should take part. Even if you can't dig a hole, push a wheelbarrow, take someone's blood pressure, or speak the native tongue, you can hold a child. It was worth the 1700 miles to hold a child.
love. love. nothing but love.
brittney
brittney
