Day 8- A place you've traveled to

First of all, I apologize that this is a day late. Time got away from me yesterday. I'm sure that most of you are expecting me to write about China, since that's pretty much what this blog is about, but I've decided to go a different route with today's post. You've heard me talk about China a lot and you'll probably continue to hear me talk about it. My second thought was to talk about my trip to Kenya but I wrote about that trip in April (read about it here). I have decided to write about not 1 but 3 trips, all to the same place, Matamoros, Mexico.

Every spring break, the high school ministry at my church goes on mission trips. The 9th-11th grades goes to Mexico and the 12th grade goes to Peru. I went on these trips all four years and loved every second of it. When I went to Mexico my freshman year, it was the first time that I went out of the country. It was a life changing experience. I was able to see that there was a world outside of my own little suburban bubble. I gained a lot of perspective about the world on these trips.

My experience every year was different but the basic framework of the trip was the same every year. We began traing in January, where we were divided into groups of 5 or 6 people (this made for a lot of groups as over 200 people went every year). We spent time praying and preparing to share the gospel with the people we would meet. We always departed on a Saturday morning for a 26 hour bus ride and arrived in Mexico on Sunday evening. Monday-Thursday was spent building houses, putting on VBS, doing door to door evangalism, and so much more.

God showed up every year and so much impact was made for the kingdom through high school students. I was able to witness hundreds of people come to Christ through these trips, including many who were a part of our group. It was not a glamorous way to spend spring break. I was dirty, tired, and the only tan I got was a farmers tan but I am so grateful for my experiences there. This where my heart for missions was truly developed. I feel like there is a piece of me still there, and in a way there really is. Our church made a rock altar in a field at the place where we stayed. Each person on the trip found a rock and wrote there name and a verse that was meaningful to them on the trip. On day we left, we would add our rocks to the altar and spend time worshipping our God and thanking him for all he has done.