Narrative Essay

Well I posted my essay this weekend, and when I tried the link it worked. But when someone else tried it they said it didn't work... Hopefully this will work.
Narrative Essay:

Narrative Essay



I have been fortunate to experience so many different foreign cultures in my life. I have Japanese relatives. I have been to Guatemala twice for mission trips. I visited Korea when I was ten. I have befriended refugee families from The Democratic Republic of Congo, Sierra Leone, Burundi, and Afghanistan. All of these experiences have played major roles in shaping the way I live my life. I cannot overstress the importance of establishing intercultural relationships and experiencing the wide world. Without these experiences I would not be who I am today, and there is one experience in particular that has had a lasting effect on me.

I was in Guatemala for a church mission trip. We were there building a school for girls in the village of Santa Maria de Jesus. The week was coming to a close, and we had been divided into groups to go have lunch at the home of a Guatemalan family. We piled into a van and were driven to the other side of Santa Maria.

Once we arrived I stepped out onto the cobblestone street and navigated my way around the fecal matter of horses. I was led down a crowded narrow passage between two cinderblock houses. At the end of the passage I found myself in a courtyard. The sun’s rays peeked through the clouds and shone through the tangle of clothes lines stretched out above my head. The courtyard, like the passageway, was crowded with crates and boxes. Chickens pecked at the ground all around me as I stood there and took in the scene. On the ground to my left was a wire cage containing a rabbit. “Big enough to eat in about two months” I was told. There were puddles here and there leftover from the recent rain. Mirna’s mother, a dark and elderly woman, greeted us with a nearly toothless grin. Her traditional Guatemalan dress was woven out of brightly colored yarn.

We were guided into the dining area, which was fairly nice compared to many Guatemalan households. The floor was tile rather than dirt, and there was a nice wooden table for us to sit at. After a prayer we were served our food. I was very taken aback when the plate was placed in front of me. I had come to this meal expecting to be served tortillas and beans. What I saw on the plate in front of me was spaghetti. The tortillas were present, in addition to some fried potato wedges. The helpings were small, but the food was delicious.

As I sat there and ate, I was suddenly struck with a realization. I realized just how much trouble these people had gone through to serve me, a foreign stranger, a decent meal. These people who normally ate nothing but beans and tortillas had spent a very substantial amount of money to purchase a lot of food. They then stood by and watched as we scoffed down our meals. Mirna’s mother smiled and talked with us, but she never ate anything. Despite this apparent lack of wealth, Mirna’s mother continually talked about how she was so thankful for everything she and her family had been given. I couldn’t help but admire this woman and her family for their sense of gratitude. These people had so little, and we had so much.

On the ride back to the work site I couldn’t stop thinking about the disparity between what we had and what they had. I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for everything I personally had. I lead a much more comfortable life than Mirna’s family. It was Mirna’s family though that taught me to truly have a sense of gratitude. Now, to this day, I think about this experience. When I complain about not having the newest video game, or the coolest shoes, I remember Mirna’s mother. By our standards she had next to nothing, but she was thankful. This intercultural experience has truly had a lasting effect on me. I will never forget Mirna’s mother. I will never forget that lunch in a Guatemalan household.