Rebecca Pitchford
College Prep English Narrative Essay September 11, 2015 Mission Possible Life was so much different in Charleston, South Carolina than it was in small-town Chillicothe; graffiti covered the city and the amount of various ethnicities shocked me. I came to Charleston with my church youth group on a mission trip, unaware of what all I was going to encounter while on my trip. I was put in a group with random kids, close to my age from all around the country, to go and serve at a local apartment complex for the next four days. As we pulled up to the complex and saw the kids at the site, it finally hit me how blessed I really am. When I went to Charleston I had no idea what God had in store for me. I knew that I would be apart of a hands-on group and put to work, but nothing more than just those vague details. When we got to the university, that was where we stayed for the week, we were paired up with about 15 random people from surrounding states near South Carolina(besides Missouri). We were then told that our group was going to spend the next four days in the ghetto part of Charleston at an apartment complex and play with the kids who live there. The very first day the students went to their work sites was extremely hot, the humidity was awful and it did not help the uneasy feeling that I had already built up. When my group pulled up to the apartment complex we were welcomed with a friendly hello from the landlord. He directed us to a small building where he explained all the rules and precautions that we had to abide by. He then took us to a small playground-like area where we would spread out and play with the neighborhood kids. The gentleman told us to sit around and play ball as a group and eventually the kids would come out and see what we were doing, but that was not the case. We spend roughly an hour sitting out in the heat with little to no shade, just waiting to see some sign of curiosity from a child. Finally after about 2 hours we had giddy kids join us as we played ball. At first, it was a tad bit awkward trying to adjust to these strangers, but after a while, we were all playing like best friends. My service group was only at the site for four hours during the day so by then, we did not have much time to play with the kids. The second day rolled around and when our bus pulled into the parking lot, the kids were eagerly waiting for us. It was so cool to see how excited these kids were just to play with complete strangers. Our group had a variety of activities set out for all different age groups and genders, for example: a puppet show, craft stations, 4-square, basketball, soccer, football and kickball. The whole time we were at the site, the parents either let their kids come play with us alone or stayed with them the whole time they were playing. I was shocked to see how rough the parents were with their kids. I vividly remember sitting with a little boy working on crafts and I watched as a mother put a plastic sack over her baby’s face only because she would not stop crying, this baby was too young to understand the mother. I was in awe of what I had just witnessed; that was not the only surprising stunt I saw about rough home lives while my group was there. Many of the kids had terrible language and did not know a single thing about sharing or how to play nicely. The third day came and the kids were even more excited to see us. By now, each student in our mission group had a child that they had special relationships with; mine was named Damion, he was 5 years old and he did not have a single clue who his father was or why he did not have one and his other friends did. It was obvious that his home life was rough. The way he talked to people was very harsh and he did not use any manners at all (most kids that showed up and played with us were like this as well). I tried my hardest to teach Damion what it was like to use manners and be respectful, but who knows if he retained any of it. I dreaded coming to the site on the fourth and final day, telling all the kids that this was going to be the last day we would ever get to play with them. The final, dreaded last day came and we once again pulled into the parking lot and unloaded the balls, crayons and puppets. It took awhile for the kids to come out and play but after 30 minutes they all finally came out and played. All the kids wanted to play a game of kickball so we passed the time playing kickball, while others made crafts in the shade. While working on crafts with the kids, Damion joined in just like any other kid would do, only he had on the same clothes as he had on yesterday. It was so difficult coming to the realization that Damion wore the same clothes multiple days in a row and that was normal to him. The day came to an end and we had to say our final goodbyes to everyone. It was so hard leaving the kids knowing that my group coming in the morning was their favorite part of their day. I hated saying goodbye to Damion and the look he had on his face was even worse. Going to the apartment complex has been one of the most life changing events I have dealt with, and seeing the kids living in broken homes was so hard. It put into perspective that families really live that way, and some parents cannot always afford buying clothes for their children. When I got back home I could not help but look back at my childhood and be thankful for the life I have been blessed with and the family I have. |