Habitat for Humanity

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. A lot of times I feel as though peoples eyes are etched with their life experiences. On San Andres Island, the young children of four or five have eyes that hold so much, that have experienced so much already in their short lives. It was clear that they learned early on about pain and hardship. Yet underneath this exterior, were the most beautiful, most cheerful children I have ever met. They don't have much, they don't ask for much, but what they emmit is a spirit so strong it gives me hope. It's absolutely true that Habitat is an organization that gives tools to those in need to make their lives better. However, as a volunteer helping those in need, my life is now better for having the chance to know these children and their families. They have touched my soul and left my heart a little bit bigger, a little bit stronger and a little more hopeful.

So where do I begin. This experience was one of, if not the, defining moments during my weeks of travel. One of the more obvious reasons is because this opportunity brought about another opportunity to extend my work with Habitat for the summer, which I am now carrying out in Bogota, Colombia. Outside of this, there are a million and one reasons and ways I evolved during the week long build. Afterall, how can you not be changed after meeting and seeing a walk of life so drastically different from your own?

On the first day of my first trip to San Andres, we toured through the five homes we would be working on for the week in Barkers Hill village. Some of these families barely had four walls to call home. The living conditions were less than less than desirable, which made me grateful we were there as the first International Team to begin making improvements. I took one big step up onto the concerte floor of Ruby's wood planked home, leaned to the right and then to the left. I had seen her kitchen, bedroom and bathroom where she and her three children live. In that moment I had the most overwhelming urge to hug my mom - who like Ruby, was a single mother of three for the greater portion of my youth - and thank her, over and over and over again for the life she provided for me. My gratitude continued through the next four homes; thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. How very different my life could have turned out.

Over the course of the week I had a reoccurring question that stemed from that initial feeling: why me? Who decideded Ruby, and every other person here for that matter, is to live in these conditions, while I am fortunate enough to be born into the life I have? It doesn't make sense. I mulled over this question throughout the week and came across a revelation. All of us "non-Ruby's" of the world have a responsibility to accept and uphold. The responsibility to use our resources, the resources handed to us at birth, to improve the lives of "Ruby's" around the world. Just because it's her and not me, or me and not her, doesn't mean things have to stay that way.

Which brings me to my next point.

I'm on a mission. I'm 22 years old and up until now my life has been pretty spectacular. Sure I may have complained along the way, and through acquiring a new perspective of the world, I feel rather embarrassed now for worrying over my “hardships”. Life is good. So like I said, I’m on a mission; a mission to give others the same kind of 22 years of life that I have been blessed with – love, education, happiness, independence, health. After all, these are things that every human being, of every race, deserves a chance at. And as I've mentioned before, it's me who was chosen to receive these privileges initially by circumstance. So now I’m on a mission to bring these things to others, to take responsibility for sharing my privileges. I plan on continuing to “find” myself along the way too... but that's a whole 'nother topic.