dig narrative

I remember how my father used to lecture me when I was a kid. Whether I made my sister cry or made her cry a lot, he always asked, “If someone did that to you, would you like it?” That’s always stuck with me, this idea of putting yourself in someone else’s shoes. Throughout most of my life I like to think that I always felt for the outcast, or for the loser, or for anyone going through tough times. Maybe I haven’t had the same struggles as them, but I put myself in their shoes and felt sympathy, a desire to help them. I guess that was why I decided to go on a Habitat For Humanity trip during Spring Break in 2008.
I felt alone most of the trip, but I remember meeting the future owner of the house and the look of thankfulness and joy on her face. I remember feeling good about the time I spent as well as the work I did. I decided then, that I would go the following year as well. Spring Break of 2009 rolled around and I was ready to take a break from school, to build a house, and to feel good about myself again. This time, the group was a little bit smaller; 20 kids piled into 5 cars, and we headed down to Winston-Salem, NC. Something was different this time around. I actually got to know the group I was building the house with. We spent 5-6 hours working every day, and spent the rest of the day together as well. Last year, I felt like I was working alone. A lone hammer striking in nails, but this time, I noticed that we were a team pounding our hammers together in unison for this person whom we’ve never met, but loved.
We worked together, ate together, lived together, and loved together. The community’s atmosphere surrounded us as well; Winston-Salem received us with open arms and we could not help, but to embrace back. Churches fed us chicken-pot pie until we were content, and even gave us leftovers to take back with us to make sure we didn’t go hungry that night. One of the churches even had children put on a talent show for us making us laugh, which fed our souls. Kind, old ladies mothered us by cooking us home cooked meals of lasagna and garlic bread topping it all off with baked brownies with ice cream on top. We became closer as a fellowship and as a community -- we laughed together as we played card games, formed inside jokes, and pointed fingers at each other in the bloodthirsty, accusing game of mafia. I realized then, that we weren’t just building a house, but a community made from relationships of love.