WILEY WILKINS:
  Hi my name is Wiley Wilkins.  I am a senior in our church’s youth group.  There’s a word I learned on our 2006 mission trip to the US/Mexico border: Presenté.  This word means more to me than just “present” in Spanish. 

When I look back to my freshman year and the week we spent in Agua Prieta, the word rings rampant through my head.  Although that word captures one of many memories from a trip which altered my perception on the world around me, it reminds me of one of the most intense experiences I have from that time in México.

 On Tuesday during the trip our youth group crossed the border from México into the United States.  We were going to spend a couple of hours in an experience that would most likely change all of us in one way or another for the rest of our lives. We were sitting in the grass when an older couple walked up to our youth minister, Cory Maclay, with a shopping cart full of what looked like little white crosses.  Now in all honesty I forgot if we had been told what we were going to do that day or if it was supposed to be a surprise; in the long run I was surprised.

The older couple told us that we were going to get to participate in a weekly protest.  It takes place right by the border in Douglas, Arizona every Tuesday around 5:00pm.  A closer look in the shopping cart showed it was undoubtedly a cart full of little wooden white crosses each with a name in black ink going across the middle. 

The husband of the couple explained to us that once a week he, his wife, and a few others participants took part in this ritual.  Sometimes with a small group, other weeks it was a large group, like ours.  They did this every week, no matter how many or few were involved.

They explained they walked down the road leading to the US/Mexican port of entry with these crosses, each one taking a single cross, holding it above their head, and calling out the name on the cross.  Next the rest of the group would all yell out together “¡Presenté!”  After each name was called out, the cross would be laid on the road up against the curb.  The names were shouted out every 10 feet or so.   I think there were about 150 cross, each one representing a person who had perished over the past 30 years within the 70 square mile section of the desert around us while trying to make it into the United States.

So there we were, ready to start.  Each one of our youth group proceeded to take a few crosses in their hands.   We began walking down the road towards the border calling out the names of the deceased. I remember one of my crosses had the last name Alejandré on it, the same as my best friend’s last name. Although I knew it was a common name, it still hit hard. And it didn’t help when the names Jesus and Luis were called; the first names of my best friend and his father.

Although they are very common names, so it’s not like some horrible omen, or anything. Those names were bound to get called eventually because of the sheer number of the deceased. But it was still very unsettling for me. What if my friend and his parents had died trying to make it to the United States? The idea made me cringe.

After the walk was over and all our crosses were laid out on the street, they seemed to stretch nearly into the horizon.

The ritual was still not over. Another man, Tommy, pulled out a list and began reciting the names of the poor souls that did not have their names on a cross. The list went on and on for at least 10 or 15 minutes. It was incomprehensible the amount of deaths that had occurred in such a small area.  The very last name Tommy called was “Jesus Christo” for Jesus Christ.  By the end of it I was in tears along with many others in our group.

I think one of the main reasons it was so shocking for us was not so much all of the people that have lost their lives but the fact that we had just met many people in the same boat as those who decided to migrate into the United States. The idea that all of the people we had just met in México, and would continue to meet through the remainder of our trip, could end up with their souls drifting across the desert was heart breaking.

Experiences like this happened nearly every day on both of the mission trips I have gone on, to México and Nicaragua.  And they will always be in the Present with me.

To help our youth group gain experiences like this which are more than eye opening, and certainly life changing, we would like to ask you to please join us at our big party in two weeks on Saturday January 30th.  It’s a Game Night where you can eat dinner and bid on items in a Silent Auction.  You can buy your tickets at the kiosk right out there [point right] after worship.  Thank you for your time.

Luis Sanchez  “¡Presenté!” 

Karina Gonzalez “¡Presenté!” 

y Jesus Christo  “¡Presenté!” 

JULIA tHOMPSON:

Two years ago this March, I traveled to Nicaragua along with more than 40 Youth Forum kids and leaders.  At the risk of sounding utterly cliché, the week-long mission trip was an invaluable learning experience and a major part of my ongoing faith formation.  From that amazing trip, I realized why mission is important to me.  To me, mission is being able to experience God’s love by helping others or being helped by others.  I saw this in Nicaragua, whether I was building a neighborhood community center, talking late on the porch with my host brother, or worshipping together with new friends at Iglesia Morava.

We experience mission at home in wonderful ways, but as I’ve discussed with my YF peers, there is something uniquely magical and spiritual about everyone piling onto a plane and serving God far away from home. 

This year, I had a tough situation.  My high school orchestra at Garfield is traveling to New York City to perform in Carnegie Hall….at the same time as the YF mission trip to the Heifer Ranch in Arkansas.

“Oh boy…” I thought.  This decision was going to be difficult.  Two once-in-a-lifetime opportunities!  At first I was very conflicted, but I quickly had a change of heart.  I realized that going on the mission trip was, in fact, the only option.  God was telling me to go to Arkansas and serve through mission, and I listened.  As soon as I chose the Arkansas trip, I was overwhelmed with a sense of peace, and I knew that this was the trip I was meant to go on.  I couldn’t be more excited.

Now I’ve told you why I participate in mission.  I hope you want to be part of it too!  One small mission you can do is come to the YF Game Night and Silent Auction on January 30th.  That night we will be raising money for our trip while having a whole lot of fun. I hope to see you all there.  Tickets are being sold at the kiosk the next couple of Sundays.

Thank you.

--Julia Thompson