So I've realized that I haven't actually talked about where I am or got here, necessarily. I was chatting with a friend last week who was shocked that I wasn't in Veracruz, so let me talk about that. When this posts I should be zooming through the air in a little metal cylinder between Mexico City and New York City. So yeah, why I am where I am? Where am I, even?
I'm at the Hogar Infantil in Ocozocoautla, Chiapas, Mexico. I got here by plane. Last summer I started e-mailing people about looking for mission trip opportunities. I made good contact in the Diocese of Chicago who suggested going to Veracruz to work with a priest who didn't speak any English. I sent an e-mail to all students and Stefanie responded and followed up. We wrote a grant for the Seminary Consultation on Mission, which is an Episcopal thing. We got our grants and my person in Chicago put me in touch with the Bishop of SE Mexico's assistant.
We e-mailed him what we'd been planning and thinking and told us that the priest we had wanted to work with wouldn't be in town the time that we were going to be! He also offered us an alternative, though which is how we came to be here. The night before he e-mailed us (Stefanie had taken over communications at this point) I had looked at hotels in Veracruz and tried to figure out the budget (SCOM didn't give us as much as we'd asked) and just said, "Okay, God, something will work out."
We told the bishop's assistant that we'd love to come here and here we are! He gave us Dori's e-mail address. We bought our tickets less than a month before we were flying. During reading days and finals we were stating to sketch out details with Dori through e-mail. We were texting each other and putting stuff to bring and do together. And now we've been here three weeks plus some change. The boys are all lined up for breakfast and one of them is crying. It's the one I suspected.
Safe flights to us! Pray the collect for travelers!