A Reflection: Missing Mexico

I have so many beautiful memories from my time in Mexico with (you guessed it) Project Mexico. The experience as a whole was life-altering, and although I feel as if I could compose an entire book about it, I shall select one memory to write about instead.
During my time there, I was on a build team of about thirty people who were all there for the same reason as I: to positively reach as many lives as we could. Officially, we were a build team, but we were really more than that: sojourners, teachers, and learners, to name a few things.

The house we were constructing was for a family that consisted of a father, his daughter, and her many children. They had recently lost their grandmother, had no father, and in preparation for our arrival they had torn down their pallet shack so that there would be room to construct the house.

I remember one moment from our week on the build site particularly vividly. One of the young girls of the family we were building for was very eager to help, and we enthusiastically welcomed her and her siblings as honorary team members. This young girl, about nine years old, spoke not a word of English; and I knew a maximum of ten Spanish words and phrases, a percentage of these being words I had learned from the church services! However, despite our language barrier, I was able to show her what I was working on so that together we might find a way for her to help. I demonstrated how I was using the power drill to drive screws in the metal beams of the framework. After only a few minutes of visual instructions, smiles, and nods, we fell into a pattern. She held the screws still against the metal beams while I set the drill in place, and once I applied pressure with the drill to keep the screw from falling into the dust, she would let go and reach for another screw while I drilled in the other. Occasionally, a screw would go in crookedly and make a loud grinding noise against the metal beam. This was a simple problem to solve; all I had to do was reverse the drill to remove the screw and hand it back to her to reposition. However, I sometimes would forget to flip the drill back from reverse and would find myself momentarily attempting to drill a screw into the beam with my drill in reverse. My helper would giggle a little whenever this happened, relieved to see that if she were to make a mistake she would not be the only one. Despite these occasional hiccups, we were working in partnership with one another. But after a while, she looked at me and held out her hands for the drill.

“Por favour?” She smiled at me. Now, as I reflect back, I realize that any other little girl that I did not know well would have received a resounding “no” for an answer. But I trusted my companion and fellow teammate; and besides, I didn’t have the words to tell her, “I would feel more comfortable if you let me handle the power tools!” So I (mostly with trust, though a little anxious) handed over my drill and we reversed roles. This went excellently, but there came a moment when the screw was crooked, stuck in the beam halfway and wouldn’t budge any farther. I held out my hands, expecting my friend to need me to reverse the drill for her, but she smiled at me again and shook her head. I watched her flip the switch to reverse the drill and she expertly removed the screw. I was quite surprised. “Muy bien!” I praised her. She smiled again.

“Gracias.”
While it seems silly to me now to think of how surprised I was at her ability to pick up on the tricks of the trade so quickly, it was admittedly my first intimate interaction with someone I did not share a language with. My young teammate in Mexico, with whom I exchanged a maximum of ten words, taught me more about teamwork and human interaction in a few moments than my short life so far has taught me. It truly blew me away that we were able to bond so closely without speech. She knew I was there to help her and her family, and I knew she wanted to help us in the process. We came to a form of understanding, and we connected in ways that exceeded spoken dialogue. Although when I return, I hope I’ll know more Spanish than previously, it is a relief to know that some communication goes beyond spoken language.

I was (and am) a mere servant of God and these people we were building for. I have been so humbled by my experiences (this one among them) and I thank the Lord for the time I had in Mexico and what He opened my eyes to! I am not a wise person, but I think I have gained a smite of wisdom from my time out of the country and anxiously await my next chance to leave home once again.
In Christ,
Faeli Heise