By Julia Matias
As students either continued to enjoy their winter break or began January classes as the New Year came around, 11 students from Hofstra and Adelphi Universities began to make last-minute preparations for a mission trip to Montego Bay, Jamaica.
Although we tried to express that this was no vacation, many people commented on their supposed jealousy that we were going to be in 75-degree weather next to a beach for eight days. This sounded ideal but was far from what any of us applied for.
Through the Catholic Campus Ministry that is present on both campuses, six students from the University and five from Adelphi joined our three campus ministers (similar to peer ministers but slightly older) in making the mission trip possible.
We were going to serve with Mustard Seed Communities, which houses children with disabilities and diseases and young girls who were either pregnant or already had children of their own. Specifically, we were going to stay in a community called Blessed Assurance.
Most of our initial sweat came from fundraising, but we each made it through, and by the time January 10 arrived, we were so overwhelmed with excitement that nothing else mattered.
Nothing could be written to describe just how beautiful Jamaica is. As we stepped out of the airport, we saw rolls of hills beyond the sea of green. Driving to Blessed Assurance introduced us to a pallet of greens, yellows, oranges and reds. The water was so clear we could see the coral reefs taunting us to dive in.
The community itself had bright blue and yellow houses lined up on both sides as we drove through the gate. Even as I absorbed the incredible scenery, I still had no idea what to expect from the trip. I didn’t know what our living situation was going to be or what was going to be required of us. I just assumed we would play with the kids, hang out with each other, and do some house work.
We often began the day at 6 a.m. and went to bed around 9 p.m. Half of the day was spent doing manual labor; the other half was spent with the children. We were split into two groups during the day: one group to paint a dorm that was just built and the other to landscape and clean up the surrounding area. At the end of each working day, people were so exhausted and sore that we could barely walk up the stairs to our rooms.
On the second day, a heat rash made my face swell up. For two days, we did not have water, not even to flush the toilet. A couple of people become ill, and by the end of the week, several had colds. One found out that she had pneumonia.
As cheesy as what I’m about to say sounds, we pushed through each day for the children. The first time I saw them-some with deformed bodies, some in wheelchairs because they couldn’t walk, some who just stared at you-I thought I was going to cry in panic, thinking that I had no idea how to help.
I remember seeing tiny hands bent all the way down, spines that were bent backward, kids whose skulls never formed together and bodies that just lay there watching each person who passed by. They shared shoes and toothbrushes with one another, and they barely had enough diapers and wipes to last them through the entire day.
The community was so understaffed that some of the more active children were tied to chairs or their cribs. Some of the toddlers would scream and cry if we put them down or brought them back to their dorms. It was heartbreaking.
For the first few days, many of us were angry and irritated that their living situations were not any better. Consequently, that’s how some of our agreements with one another began. In time, we learned to focus all our emotion and energy into transforming their situations as best as possible.
We grew to love them all, despite the fact that we were all somehow marked by one of the kids’ bodily fluids by the end of the week. Still, we could not get enough of their laughter and constant pleads for piggyback rides. They all just wanted to be held.
The sixth day was our free day where we visited other communities and went to the beach. It was a much needed break, but it wasn’t the beautiful beach that struck me the most. When we visited Jacob’s Ladder (a community for older residents) three hours away, a priest had said that we needed to build homes in our hearts to allow Jesus in.
I guess, by reaching out to others, we were each building homes within our hearts. However, I just didn’t think that by building homes we needed to fill them. Obviously, why build a house with no doors? What would be the purpose?
As we slowly grew to love the children there, it was like inviting each of them into our hearts. We were welcoming them in and embracing them each. In the simplest terms, anybody can build a home in her heart, but it was up to us to decide whether we wanted to open the doors, and each of us did.
No matter who it was-whether it was Lee-Chin who acted like the big brother, Mia who just wanted to be free or Rick Roy who was just a badass-we were all captivated. Sometimes that’s all that anyone could ask for: to let another open the door to her heart.