Proyecto San Andres Saludable & GV Trips

The more I give, the better I feel... I'm not sure if that makes me a generous person or a selfish human being.

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.

A new day, a new opportunity

I don’t know how it happened to me. When I stop, and REALLY think about everything I have just done in the past 2 months and 4 days, I don’t know how it happened; how it was/is all possible. I say possible in the sense of the pure and perfect timing of it all, possible on my very limited, very small budget. How in the heck was I so lucky?

From country hopping (Mexico to Guatemala to Colombia to Panama to Costa Rica to Guatemala to Honduras to USA to Colombia...); to snorkeling on a deserted island; to barfing my brains out for 10 hours straight and thinking 'is it ever going to end?'; to riding the L.D. train for days (if you have to ask what L.D. is, then clearly you've yet to experience the ride - don't worry, you'll know when you're on it); to Salsa lessons from male teachers the height of my tatas; to receiving foot/back massages from strange men on not one, but two occassions; to ditching flights and straight up being shut down from boarding others; to carrying 80lbs bags of cement with the Mayor, who could see I was clearly struggling on my own; to spending countless hours wine tasting and talking about everything in a teeny tiny wine shop in Antigua; to rain that poured down heavy on us on top of Mayan Ruinas; to reconnecting with my dear family and friends in Michigan; to wandering streets everywhere; to being lost in translation 24/7 and somehow missing it during my brief stint home; to negotiating cabs and often getting ripped off; to the many long bus rides; to sleeping in the jungle on a twin bed with a Kiwi, tangled in mosquito netting and fearing our survival from cockroaches in the night; to renovating homes to make people's life a little bit better, while they made mine better by just having known them; to meeting the most interesting people in the most unsuspecting places (i.e. the 2004 Nobel Peace Prize winner's husband in a Cafe on a rainy day); to laughing long and hard with new friends over cervezas in the Caribbean; to drinking local mezcal and eating blindly; to rafting waves, hiking and swimming currents; to reading, thinking, learning, changing, and absorbing every minute of every day; to yoga’ing on the beach and yoga'ing on rooftops with the smoky scene of volcanos pictured perfectly between prestine white walls and tiled rooftops......to Spanish classes in a courtyard a world away from the classrooms I spent much of my life; to beach time in bays and surfing for the first time with a teacher who was clearly more fed up with my progress (or lack thereof) than I was; to love affairs ending and new ones beginning; to the Spanish morning radio shows I don't understand but enjoy the happiness it brings the bus driver during the herendous morning rush hour in Bogota; to feeling lost and lonely and the "what do I do next?"; to running through terential downpours in the middle of the night and laughing the whole way; to hippie clad hostels and banana pancakes; to seatless toilets and ice cold showers; to mangos falling off trees and machete chopping cocos; to wakeboarding on the Rio; and every once in a while, having that wonderfully peaceful feeling that whispers inside, 'You are in exactly the right place at exactly the right time, doing exactly the right thing'. As quickly as it comes, it leaves me to continue on. If you have ever experienced this feeling, you know for yourself how incredible it is.

So I'm telling you, it's possible. It's all possible. When you are ready to let go and dive into the future, eyes blindfolded, towards all of the wild and obscure things you want - they will be there waiting for you. And the great thing is it's like a magentic force; once you open yourself up to the possibility of an opportunity, more and more opportunities reveal themselves. Opportunities you may not have ever dreamt or desired that now seem imminent to your life. Nevermind the logistics, the money, the time. Those are inconsequential matters in comparison to your life and creating the future you want to be living in. Don't feel bad. We all have our moments of insecurities and persistent questions. I still get them even doing what I'm doing. And it's probably a good thing. It means you're looking out for yourself. But in order to do that properly, you need to take more into consideration than just the downfalls; think about risks that will reap you great rewards. Think about all of those wild and obscure things you want. Now repeat after me: it's all possible.