Lately, I've been having strong memories of the two times I lived in Mexico in college. While I've been on several trips with groups for a week, the best was when I went by myself to live with a family that I didn't know. The home had electricity, part-time running water, and rats. I did construction and helped "translate" for the American groups as they did built a house for a family in need. The first time I went I was 17 years old, the second time I was 19.
Middle picture on the right: notice the fence. Pallet projects before pallet projects were cool.
Fifteen years later, I am still processing those trips. I was by myself with a family that didn't speak English! They welcomed me into their home, their conversations, their groove, and I was so grateful for their welcome and their generosity.
I used to think about how different their lives were than our lives, but the more of life I experience, I think their lives are very similar to ours. They just LOOK different. They loved their families, they spent time with neighbors outside after dinner, they made special meals for special occasions, and they were fun. However, the colonial that I lived in was actually a trash dump that the city covered with dirt and called it livable. Houses were made out of extra trash found in the piles.
I remember that time with such joy, and I would definitely say it was one of the best times of my life. I have always felt like I lean towards happiness in my life, but it was in Mexico that I found a deeper joy than I have ever had. That life and that time there was so simple and so beautiful, and I hope to go back there again with my family one day.
Love!
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