Adventures on the (Part-time) Mission Field {1}

          Welcome to my first installment of my series I call "Adventures on the (part-time) mission field"! I have so many stories swirling around in my head and it took a long time to figure out which one to write about first, but the following story holds a special place in my heart.

          It was the morning of December 31st, 2014 and it was time to leave Mexico. Our team of ten had an amazing time, but this day had one agenda: go home. As was discussed the night before at devotions, everyone would get up early and leave the hotel at 4:30, in order to cross the Mexican border quickly, so the out-of-state teams could catch their flights at the airport in the nearest American town. Our team, however, was a exception. We didn't fly to Mexico, we drove. This made sense, because we only lived six hours away. And, because my dad was leading our team and he likes his sleep, we decided to sleep in and leave the hotel two hours later, around 6:30. So, we woke up and did some last minute packing, but it didn't take long for problems to arise. My dad had gone out to our van (our only form of transportation) to load some luggage, finding it, well, not there. Others from our team who had loaded their luggage the night before began to wonder where their luggage (and our way home) was. It didn't take long to find out. Dad called the leader of the whole trip, who was at the airport dropping people off. He had our van. On the other side of the border. Oh, joy. The only logical next step was for us to load up in three taxis and drive to the border, then walk across the Rio Grande (on a bridge, of course). Typical day, right? To make things even better, it was cold. As in, the 40s. And raining. Fun fun. As we crazy gringos carried our luggage (it was at this point that I regretted bringing my stuff in three different bags) across the bridge with 4 inch puddles, I did a lot of thinking about the people who do this, cross the border, everyday, in search of hope. Keep looking, my friends, keep looking. After going through customs and getting a few funny looks (especially when my dad tried to make me do the splits against the wall of the customs office), someone from another church came to our rescue. After we dropped him off at the airport, we sped away before anyone else could take our van. We were on our way home, but not before having breakfast at Chick-Fil-A (there may have been a honey eating contest between myself and my pastor). That was a memorable and tiring trip indeed, as evidenced by the fact that I could barely stay awake to rush in the new year that night. Things didn't go right that day, but that made to all the better.

-Emily (always being flexible)