The best experiences in life, the ones that truly make an impact, are those that make you a better person. The so-called “good times” of today’s culture are not the moments to remember. They are the moments that blur together and don’t really matter in the long run. But when one night or one day or one week changes you forever, that is a true experience. When you try to give something to somebody, and you get a greater blessing for yourself than you could ever give them, you will have one of the best experiences imaginable. When you watch the dedication ceremony of the tiny house you just built for a family of seven in Mexico and say good-bye to the little children with whom you just spent an entire week, and you know you will never forget any of them, then you can truly say you have had an experience that has made an immense impact on your life.
    When I arrived in Mexico with the rest of my church youth group, ready to donate my spring break to the people living in poverty around Agua Prieta, I knew what to expect. I had been there two years earlier, with many of the same people, and we were ready to see all of our Mexican friends again. What I didn’t expect was that this trip would impact me even more than the last one had.
    The week started out with the mindless job of sifting sand. While the guys built the walls of a house out of two-by-fours and plywood, the girls sat on the ground next to an immense pile of sand and gravel, sifting handfuls through window screens into five-gallon buckets. The sand would be used later to mix plaster to cover the outside of the house we would build. We kept things interesting as we sifted, but it was not the highlight of the week. The highlights would come later, when the work would be done and we would be able to see appreciation and love in the eyes of those we would help.
    When enough sand was finally sifted and the walls of the house built, we loaded up the four walls onto the back of a pick-up truck and drove to the job site. This idea is hard to understand for those of us who live in America, that the walls of an entire house can be built and put up in a day. But once you see the cardboard shacks with dirt floors and the outhouses that consist of a hole dug in the ground surrounded by pallets and blankets, you understand that four walls made of plywood can be considered a palace. It’s an incredible eye-opener to see how people can live on so little and are thankful for all they have, and how we take so much for granted. Seeing a family of seven ready to upgrade from a shack to a cheap house the size of my bedroom, and seeing them so excited to receive the key to that new house really made me think about how incredibly blessed I am.
    But the people who received the house were not the only ones who were so happy and content. The children who we got to know were the same way. When these kids first showed up at the mission complex, they were shy and reserved. They walked quietly and didn’t say a word. But as the week progressed, we started to break through that barrier, first with candy, then with piggy back rides and crazy games of soccer, attempting to speak Spanish, countless photos, and hugs.
    It was these children who really made the trip incredible for me. They taught me countless lessons without even knowing it, and gave me so much more than I could give them. They were happy and content all the time, even with the poverty and dirtiness they live in. Two little girls especially taught me about joy. Their names were Roxana and Gloria and nothing could wipe the smiles off their faces. They would come to the mission to hang out with us nearly every day, and when they showed up, the whole place became more energetic. They giggled all the time and would follow us around and help us with our work. They made me feel guilty that I could ever be in a bad mood, and I have tried to live up to their example and show joy no matter who is around me.
    But the children taught me more than joy. They showed loyalty and love too. On the last day we were in Mexico, a church service was held, and some kids showed up that we had never seen before. We hauled out the candy in order to make friends with them, and I offered a piggy back ride to an adorable girl in a yellow shirt. When I set this girl down after carrying her around for a while, she wrapped her arms around me and stuck by my side no matter where I went. I will never forget that feeling. I had done practically nothing for this girl, yet she was dedicated to me. When we went into the church, she lead me to where her family was sitting, and I sat with her and her five sisters, all of whom were just as beautiful and kind as she was. Again, they taught me an incredible life lesson. So many people have done so much for me, yet I feel free to blow them off like they don’t even matter to me. If this family of girls could show so much loyalty to me, an almost complete stranger, I should show so much more love and dedication to my parents, my siblings, my friends, and my teachers, who have done more for me than I can ever imagine.
    Unfortunately, a week as incredible as my week in Mexico has to come to an end. Saying good-bye to the people we had gotten to know and the kids we had played with was hard. I gave up a week of my life for them, and they gave lessons about life to me. The candy I passed out is long gone, my name is probably forgotten, the house I helped build will not be new forever, but the lessons I learned from those people will stick with me throughout my entire life. I would not take that week back for myself for anything, because out of every week of my life, it was the one that had the most impact on me.