Mexico

      We arrived at the airport in a little border town just inside Arizona sometime late in the afternoon. It was hot and dry, and I could already tell it would be a long week. 

      We piled up in a white van and drove into Mexico that next morning. Though it couldn't have been more than 20 miles away, it was a whole different world, one foreign and unfamiliar to my American eyes. The sun wasn't just beating down to the desert dirt; it was daunting and unforgiving. It felt sorry for no one. 

      Working on various projects the next couple of days, I couldn't help but realize I wasn't doing much to help. Sure I could paint and clean up today, but how would this help them tomorrow? What good was I actually doing?

      We later visited the city dump that was home to much more than old furniture and forgotten toys. I couldn't help but question if we were all doing more harm than good. The people there already subjected themselves to surviving on what others didn't care for. Must they also be subjected to the judgement of others born with so much more than them?