My mission trip to Cochabamba, Bolivia with my fellow NPUers was ten days of living, walking proof that God exists. The mere fact that I went at all is noteworthy, as those of you privileged enough to watch me suffer through mono this semester know. Once we arrived at our final destination, the hits kept on coming. From answered prayer regarding puking (yes, puking) to butterflies from heaven to homesickness to clingy little girls, every single member of the team can tell of a time when God spoke, and spoke LOUDLY! If I learned nothing else from the trip, I learned that God does in fact hear us when we pray.
The team split our time between several projects: playing with the children at Villa Frutillar and Villa Israel (the orphanages we worked with); building a wall to separate the girls' and boys' rooms at Villa Frutillar; working on the roof at the orphanage in the Chupari jungle; sanding cribs for future orphanages; breaking ground on a new orphanage; giving out food to poor villagers in Sipe Sipe; and holding and feeding malnourished infants at a children's hospital. I must admit, the children's hospital was my favorite, but also the most difficult to explain. How is it possible to put into words what it feels like to hold a six-month old who is dying of malnourishment, who only wants to be held? What's more, how do you explain what it feels like to feed them? If I knew nothing else during the few hours that we spent at the hospital, I knew that at that moment, I was Christ's hands and feet, and I was feeding Him when He was hungry. I am truly humbled.