At first, I did not want to go at all. I didn't think I was right for it. Being a missionary in a hot, impoverished, third-world country means you need to be rich in patience, like being sweaty and gross, working in teams to finish a task, and like meeting new people. All things I've never been good at.
I have never been good at having patience. Never. I like being clean and...well...not sweaty...I like to work by myself and get things done MY WAY, in an efficient manner, and I'm awkward and slow to meet new people. Not a great resume for being a missionary.
But wow did the people in Jamaica alter my attitude. There's not much I can say other than my attitude towards people, and my attitude towards my situation in life will never be the same.
Down there people have so little, it blew my mind. A family of seven can live in a house that's smaller than my bedroom. Kids who have nothing, including no parents, can be happy with a game of ring toss, consisting of a metal steak in the ground and empty duct tape rings. And women who have been abandoned by their families because of illness, whether it be physical or mental, can be happy with just a smiling face of a "whitie" from America.
One man who went on the trip with my group came to discussion with a story of a man in the infirmary he was talking to. The guy from our group asked this man what he likes to do during the day. The man said "I like to lay down, close my eyes, and listen for airplanes." My friend form the group returned with, "Oh? Are you interested in flying planes?" And the man said, "No, but I think that if I hear a plane it might be an American Friend coming to visit me."
How can one not be moved by that? These people sit in beds that reek of urine and watch the clock tick every single day of their lives, while flies infest their hair. It doesn't matter if you just sit there with them and not say anything. They just long for human touch. It's amazing how content they are with their nothingness.
More to come, but I must step out for a spell.
