Personal Narrative: My Family In Juarez

After building a house for a disadvantaged family in Juarez and working in the encompassing heat of the Mexican sun, I was exhausted. Relief came when I walked into a cool house with the rest of my youth group, about to enjoy an authentic Mexican meal with the family who would move into the new home. However, that relief was quickly offset by the uneasiness of entering the home of total strangers. Not only were we strangers, but we came from different cultures and spoke different languages. My stomach insisted that this would be an awkward experience, but my gut claimed otherwise. Beneath my apprehension and the gurgling of my empty stomach, I knew that I could learn something from this meal; I could learn to understand their culture and their personality through universal communication. Pushing past my anxiety and entering the family’s home, I look around me and took in the large, multi-purpose room. Scattered amongst the large wooden dining table, couches, and television, the sentimental trinkets and children’s toys added warmth to the small home. Although the walls were unfinished and half-painted, the home felt lived-in and cherished. The air was stale and warm, yet the room exuded an air of sweet, beloved family memories. Immediately,
We once again thanked them and expressed how grateful we were for the traditional Mexican meal. After he finished clearing our plates, the young man came into the large room to say a few words. In his smooth, accented Spanish, he told the group that he was grateful beyond words for our work building the house. He began to tear up and explained that although his family didn’t have much, he wanted to serve us a meal. As someone from my youth group translated, our group began to understand this family a little bit more. Despite the family’s economic status, they wanted to give us a meal: a true sacrifice for a family that struggles to buy