A Week in Juarez

March 26th. That, according to my blogger dashboard, is the last time that I posted anything. Looking guiltily at my watch, I'm noticing that it's now mid-April and I've neglected my duties here. To be honest, I knew that I would. Life just works out that way, for me at least. It's like I'll get a nice groove going, gain the confidence to add yet another project to the mix and then WHAMO!, life hits me with the speed of a bullet on crack cocaine.

At least this time I have a fairly valid excuse. For the past week, anyway, I've been off in a realm of disconnectivity from normal life doing something that I've never focused on with much emphasis - helping someone else. It's interesting, really. I never intended to do good, it just sort of happened that way.

Basically as a religious person, I'm a dedicated C&E Methodist. (That would be Christmas and Easter for those not in the "know"). In the past couple of years, however, I guess my attendance has benefitted somewhat by the fact that my kids have been singing in the Kid's Choir and therefore I've put aside several Sunday mornings worth of sleep-in time to attend various services ... of course, my intentions were to be there to support my chitlins, not necessarily in a respectful praising of God. I know, I know ... I'm a heathen. In fact, my favorite time to go to the local Wal-Mart had always been during the "heathen hours" as I called them; that time on Sunday mornings when all of the good people were in church and the store was therefore somewhat palletable with fewer numbers of shoppers to get in the way.

It was sometime after this last Christmas past when one of the services I attended included a presentation outlining the mission trips of the previous year. During that presentation, they showed the faces of a Mexican family who benefitted through the efforts of a team from our church who had gone to Juarez through Operacion Hogar, (Operation Home as it translates to the Queen's English), to build a cinderblock home for them during the course of a week's time. The pictures were quite touching, the parents with their kids standing in front of their new dwelling, all of them appearing thankful and with a glimmer of newfound hope in their eyes. It was after that service that I had made the comment to my wife that the project seemed very interesting and that those who had participated certainly had something of which to be proud.

Apparently the following week, my wife mentioned my comment to the Kid's Choir director, (who also happens to be the wife of our pastor), who then mentioned it to her husband, (yes, same pastor), who then called me and invited me to lunch. $28 and an Applebee's Oriental Chicken Salad later I was looking over the paperwork involved with going to Juarez as a member of the 2008 team. What the heck, I thought. With just two companies to run, a book to write, a magazine column to work on and a blog to keep up with ... what's one more thing?

I still retained some of that lack-of-enthusiasm right through to my arrival in Juarez, (not to mention a newly acquired worry of well-being having seen the FOX News report of Britt Hume's that outlined the 200 shooting deaths in the past three months related to the warring drug cartels and the Mexican military presence in the area). However, arriving at the work site the first day, I slowly found my view on life morphing into something totally different.

Seeing a flat piece of desert situated along a sandy dirt road flanked by ramshackle buildings pieced together from wooden crates, cardboard and old matress springs, I soon realized how much of a difference a simple border can make. Realistically, there are those within our country who exist in sheer poverty and I don't want to take anything away from recognizing their hardships, but what I saw in Mexico was like taking the worst cases of poverty living here at home and multiplying it by the thousands all in rows along rutted roads. The number of unfortunate was astonishing and seeing the family, (three children, 3, 7 and 11 as well as a mother and father), living in a leaning shack covered over in old tar paper and shingles soon led me to believe that I was about to be a part of something that would actually impact the lives of these people forever.

By the fourth day, our efforts came to a crescendo as the tar and shingles were applied to the roof of the new cinderblock home. Though still only one room and smaller than most master bedrooms in America at that, the house gave a promise of better living and better things to come for this family. We had worked hard, hand-mixing cement and mortar with shovels and placing blocks one by one along the way; every muscle in each of our bodies aching from the task and each of us dead-tired by the end. But, to hear the family's mother tell us that she loved us and to have the children serve us a lunch that they had all prepared as a representation of their appreciation is a memory that will ride along in my mind to the grave.

The trip was a blast, a million humorous tales many of which will find a home in my forthcoming book, but contrary to my normal writing, this blog entry is not focussed on the humorous side of things. This is merely a sharing of the life-changing experience that I found on a poverty-stricken street in Juarez. There, through only a short week of sweat and hard labor, I and the other members of my team were allowed to play a role in the creation of a miracle for a family who had nothing. A stout, secure home with a solid roof overhead is now covering this family from the elements as they sleep at night and each of those beautiful children will leave for school Monday morning feeling more confident than they had before. Likewise, they will return to a home that is better than what they've known before ... a place where love is not only shared among them as a small family, but where they were able to experience the love of strangers helping to give them something better; something that will hopefully lead them to climb the ladder of life to a more financially successful being and then share the benefits that they acquire in helping others to their feet as well.

What we gave in Juarez was ourselves, not just our money. We showed love and compassion, we worked side by side with this family, (children as well), in the building of their home and helped them to realize what we in this country already know ... that anything is possible. We didn't give them a handout, but a "hand up" in that they saw what the devotion of a small group can achieve when we all work together. Perhaps those children will be inspired to find a life that does not involve falling to the streets and maybe, just maybe, they will learn to help others in forming a better way of life for all of those around them in the future.

As for me, I've learned more from the experience than I could ever share in words. I've learned that, while it is easy to comment on something, it is much better to become a part of it. While it is also easy to give to a charity, actually doing the work and seeing the accomplishment first hand is an entirely different experience altogether. And, while it is easy to get caught up in the goals and requirements that we set for ourselves in daily life, it all means nothing until we can find a way to help others along the way, sharing compassion and God's love, (or our own love if that's what you believe), upon our path. Sometimes doing only a little for someone else can impact them in a way that you cannot believe.

All the best,

WDL