I won’t lie: I was always pretty skeptical of short-term mission trips. During my three years in Honduras, I witnessed my fair share of American teams characterized by Messiah complexes. It’s far too easy to adopt the mindset of doing some great service on one’s own power based solely on the grounds of First World citizenship. In such a short span of time, can one truly hope to do a lasting work or develop meaningful relationships?
Last year, despite my preconceived notions, I went on the ICO to Carrillos de Poas, Costa Rica. Throughout the trip, I caught myself questioning our impact on the place. It was pretty generic work, after all – VBS and construction. But it was fun to go back to Costa Rica, despite the initial weirdness of not being able to see my old home in San Francisco de Dos Rios. Plus, I got to meet some great people and developed irreplaceable friendships with my team. At the end of the trip, we took a day of rest to hit the beach. On the 2 hour bus ride, I got stuck next to 8-year-old, chatty little Mariana who insisted on my writing down song lyrics that she came up on the spot. #1: I can’t read or write in the car or I hurl. #2: Kids tire me out. It was a long ride.
This year, I went back to Carrillos. I still had a few lingering doubts from the previous year, but I was definitely excited to see familiar faces once I got there. Due to the lateness of our arrival, I didn’t get to greet many people until church the next morning.
Partway through opening worship, Mariana walked into the sanctuary. She saw Adam first. They bantered for a bit in the usual adult-to-child way, when suddenly her gaze shifted to where I stood.
Without a word, she pushed her way to me. We stood for what seemed like forever, her tiny arms barely reaching around me and her face desperately pressed into my stomach. Suddenly, she looked up at me and asked, “You’re the one who sat with me on the bus to the beach, right?”
I’m pretty positive that, at that moment, she would not have been able to tell you my name, sing the songs I taught her, or recount the conversations we had from my last visit. I am also positive that my sitting with her for a couple hours on a bus completely embodied my purpose in Carrillos. She knew me simply as the one who was there to love her.
“Yeah, that was me,” I assured her.
Her face betrayed the depth of her thoughts. “I didn’t think you would ever come back…” Then, pushing the thought aside, she resumed her former position for another eternity.
Me and Mari on the bus to the beach last year
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