At least it feels like it. I’m surrounded by cots, boxes with trash bags in them, exhaustion, sickness—PURE MISERY. Vomit on both ends appears to be the theme for the past 24 hours. It looks as if this were movie and I was one the only survivors left; I guess I have fantastic antibodies or something…
Our 4th day in Mexicali was the day it began. One of my team members decided to sit down during chapel because she wasn’t feeling well. I glance over at her and she’s sitting peacefully. A second later, I look back again and I see her hunched over a trashcan, dry-heaving. We take her to the First Aid center where I see a handful of people seemingly suffereing from the same thing. Hmm…I thought. Looks like they ate something bad or something of that sort. But then it started getting worse. More and more campers began pouring in. Vomit and diarrhea was flowing and abundant like the Amazon River. The port-a-pottys, or puke-n-pottys rather, were the second homes of the unfortunate campers. It was so incredibly revolting to the point that I couldn’t tell if the contents in these teal thresholds came from the attic or the basement, if you know what I mean.
Quick side-note: We haven’t showered in days. We are filthy. Raunchy. Sweaty. Smelly. If you can think of more adjectives that can adequately describe this situation, that would be splendid.
I came to Mexico with the expectation of serving children in an orphanage. Looks like God had other plans of service besides that one. He has kept me up and healthy for a reason. Lord help me to stay strong, calm, patient, and healthy. Muchas gracias.