Personal Narrative On A Mission Trip To Somerville

This past summer I volunteered to go on a mission trip to a small town on the west side of Tennessee, called Somerville. Although it isn’t traditionally a “deep south” state, this city more than fit the culture. Everyone we met had a heavy accent, drank sweet tea, ate biscuits, and went to church multiple times a week. When my group first arrived at our “resident’s” house, I wasn’t exactly pleasantly surprised. I was surprised not by the fact that she lived in a trailer home or that there was mold growing down her bathroom wall, but by how she greeted us. She was less than friendly. It could be she was embarrassed that she needed help or that she just didn’t want strangers in her house but I felt a little hurt. Every day we invited her to have lunch with us but she never accepted. I am so used to people being overly friendly because I come from a tight-knit community. When she did come out of her room and we had a chance to talk with her, she was cold and hard to relate to. Overall, I was disappointed with the experience.
We bonded right away. It was refreshing to meet someone who actually wanted to talk with us. Jaylin was going into first grade and Kit was going to be a senior in high school. Kit wanted to be a nurse. The more I got to know her, the more I felt so lucky to have the opportunities I have. If I wanted to be a nurse, I would have a much easier time than her. Meeting Jaylin and Kit really opened my eyes to see how much harder they had it in Somerville. They just didn’t have the money to do the things they wanted to or even fix the mold problem in their