TIJUANA, MEXICO-On the early morning of Saturday, July 16th, around fifty students from the Los Angeles, Brea, and Irvine branches of Global Youth Mission headed towards Tijuana, Mexico to help at an orphanage and drop off donations at the local rehabilitation center.

When I think of a rehabilitation center, an image of stark white walls, the poignant scent of antiseptics, and rooms spate with comfortable furniture comes to mind. My initial perception and its juxtaposition against the harsh reality of the rehabilitation center in Mexico -the inadequate lighting, the acrid scent, the cramped bunk beds, the dust-ridden floor, and the crumbling infrastructure-unsettlingly shocked me. As I carried bags of food, body wash, and toothpaste into the building, I could not help but notice how greatly my mind had been sterilized by the lavishness of America’s facilities. Tattered clothes hung from a drooping clothesline and blankets gathered dust as they lay out in the sun.

As we gathered in the shade, one of the men there gave us a warm welcome and invited us inside. The dim lighting and the low ceiling drew my eyes to the cramped beds; the sight of a dirty teddy bear sprawled on one of the beds tugged painfully on my mind. I stumbled towards the sounds of voices coming from the main room. As I stepped inside, I saw bunk beds cramped together against the walls, people sitting in rows of chairs in the middle of the room, and a man in the front leading a sermon at a makeshift podium. His kind, feeble voice murmured, “God bless you all,” as we shuffled past him.

I shook the hand of the man who reached out to me first; I felt tears push from beneath my eyelids as I felt his aged, calloused fingers grasp mine and saw his eyes hold the weight of unspoken kindness. I was thankful for the dim lighting as I averted my eyes to silently tear up after every feeble handshake -especially after I shook hands with a man with one arm, his light smile evidently holding a painful past.

The sun was blinding as I stepped outside and boarded the bus. As I looked out the window, I thought I could hear the whispers of “God bless you all” still lingering in my ears.

<Isabelle Lee University High School 11th Grade>