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Mustard Seed Mission Trip: Clare Escobar ('18)
When my mom first told me that I would be able to join Oakcrest on a service trip to Jamaica, I didn’t know what to think. Should I be excited or nervous? I had been on several service trips around DC, Boston, and even Tennessee, so I thought this would be easy for me. Boy, was I wrong.
The first thing that hit when we got out of the airport was the poverty in Jamaica, everywhere you looked. Poverty and suffering were completely inescapable the entire week, and it affected everyone in ways we didn’t expect. We stayed at Sophie’s Place, a small Mustard Seed community high in the Jamaican mountains. It was a beautiful home with over 20 residents, all with various severe disabilities. Only about two residents, Tiara and Chrissagae, were verbal (Chrissagae could only sign). The rest were in wheelchairs, very clearly crippled and unable to move much, if at all.
The first thing that hit when we got out of the airport was the poverty in Jamaica, everywhere you looked. Poverty and suffering were completely inescapable the entire week, and it affected everyone in ways we didn’t expect. We stayed at Sophie’s Place, a small Mustard Seed community high in the Jamaican mountains. It was a beautiful home with over 20 residents, all with various severe disabilities. Only about two residents, Tiara and Chrissagae, were verbal (Chrissagae could only sign). The rest were in wheelchairs, very clearly crippled and unable to move much, if at all.
Internally, I was stressing out the first time we interacted with them. I had to face my own discomfort with their noises, drooling, and oddly-shaped bodies. I hated how hard it was for me just to look at them without wanting to run away, back to the safety of my perfect little life in the United States. Eventually however, I found myself holding hands, rubbing their heads, and smiling when the residents responded to my touch. It was one of the most beautiful things to see Moses’s eyes light up as he did a little dance when you held his hand, or Brandon’s crooked smile.
By the end of the week, we had all met and played with young teenage girls who were victims of violence and all either pregnant or had a young baby; been hugged by many Down Syndrome kids; danced with Dillon, who couldn’t get enough of dancing; and just interacted with these residents in general. I went down to Jamaica expecting to be faced with a physical project that would be tough and hot, but not out of my comfort zone. Instead, we had to be creative with the time given us and find games to play with the residents we spent time with.
I realized that this was the first time I felt like I had done real service for other human beings. These residents just yearned for physical affection and love from another person. The real gift we gave was coming out of ourselves and seeing the person in each of them. I can say without a doubt that the trip was one of the hardest weeks of my life—but I wouldn’t change it for anything.
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