Updated: Jan 18, 2020
Travel to Mexico
My husband is making fish tacos for dinner – just the anticipation of it makes me happy! I fell in love with Mexican food as a girl growing up in Southern California, with its strong Hispanic influence. I also love sunshine, sand between my toes, the sound of waves crashing on the beach, snorkeling, and eating freshly caught fish. Mazatlán used to be one of my favorite places to visit, as it includes all those things I love so much.
On one memorable family vacation, my son had emergency surgery in a tiny Mexican hospital with outdated equipment and non-English speaking personnel. After the initial overwhelming fear of losing Caleb, I was charmed by the authentic care and concern showed for my son and our family as he recovered. Our surgeon brought his shy sixteen-year-old daughter to interpret, a stranger loaned Caleb a Gameboy to pass the time of recovery, and an acquaintance found us a room in a beautiful resort until he was strong enough to leave the country. We spent days soaking up the kindness of the Mexican people and enjoyed the resort so much we planned to return every year.
But one year, something happened that made me never want to go back. Now, traveling to Mexico reminds me of how weak and powerless I felt. A place I used to love became a thing I hate.
Last summer, I ventured back across the Mexican border for the first time in seven years. Our church took a caravan of five cars filled with thirty adults and teens to an orphanage near Tijuana. I knew the trip would be exhausting but was excited to share the experience of serving orphans with my family.
I was surprised one night by three disturbing dreams, resurfacing old feelings I would rather forget. I didn’t realize a trip to Mexico would trigger memories I had shared with no one except my counselor, until last year. It became a chance to replay past trauma in a different setting, with safe people, and experience a better outcome. God used this mission trip to overwrite old memories with new and reclaim some of the love I used to have for Mexico.
You can read about my Mexico memories, how I was rescued, and the importance of replay in
Love Gone Wrong.
Can you relate? Is there something you used to love that has become a thing you hate?