“He just can’t bear to say goodbye.”

During the week of spring break Christ Youth went to Mexico and built two houses for families there. My team worked with Horatio, a thirty-year-old agricultural worker in the Baja peninsula. Horatio, his wife, and their one-year-old daughter were living in a small, one room shack on a plot of land they owned where a concrete pad foundation had been pre-poured for our arrival.

While our church has been building houses in Mexico for over 25 years, this was my first time to go. Not surprisingly, we’ve built houses for many single moms over the years and when a man is in the picture, usually he cannot stop work to join us for the week. Horatio was different. Not only was he present, he also became a member of our team. Speaking almost no English, he nonetheless learned each of our names, regularly chanted “Arkansas! USA!”, and jumped in to help almost every step of the process. He hammered, he lifted, he laughed and he sweated with us.

Each morning, after we had worked for about an hour, Horatio would come around with paper cups of coffee that he had prepared. At lunchtime each day, he prepared us a meal. As I understand it, this never happens. Though we brought our own lunches at the beginning of the week, we soon figured out that would not be necessary. Breaking from the typical masculine role in many areas of Mexico, Horatio also did the dishes each day, something our translator told me even her Christian husband, who is also Mexican, would never do. But far more than providing coffee, food, and a helping hand, he was genuinely thankful.

Many people who have gone on short term mission trips to impoverished areas return and say something like, “I’m so impressed with how happy they were. Even though they had nothing, they had joy.” I have certainly thought and said that myself, yet I’m not sure it’s a very accurate perception of the lives of people who live in poverty. Sometimes I think those thoughts can bring us a false sense of comfort or blind us from how harsh their daily life experience really is. Don’t get me wrong – Horatio and his family were very happy and extremely thankful. But you could also tell that they live very difficult lives.

Horatio spoke (through a translator) of the pain he experienced as close friends succumbed to drugs. He worked long hours in the sun, back bent over “picking.” Strawberries were at harvest during our week there. I’m not sure what type of field he will work in next, but I doubt it will provide health insurance, wellness checkups for his young daughter, or retirement benefits. Though people came to sell us handicrafts on the road in front of his house, in spite of all the commotion we created, not a single neighbor stopped by. Their little shack on a hill felt lonely to me.

We introduced Horatio and his family to Pastor Benardo, a local pastor we have worked with for years who has a growing, vibrant ministry nearby. They even attended a lively weeknight service with us. I turned around at one point to see Horatio singing and clapping and I couldn’t help but smile. And he, in a way only he could, smiled back at me. I’m hoping they continue to attend and find themselves surrounded by Jesus and His family there.

Just before the vans pulled away, after we had handed him the keys to his new home, someone ran out from around the tall fence covered in plastic to motion that I was needed back inside. I wondered what was wrong! I speak no Spanish, and I thought everyone who could translate was gone. The house was finished. What’s going on? Opening his door, I saw Horatio weeping inside. Thankfully, the translator was still around. I looked to her, confused. She explained, “He just can’t bear to say goodbye.” To be honest, I couldn’t either. So, we hugged one another one last time.

One day, Jesus will return and there will be no more goodbyes for the people of God. Until then, Horatio’s life will be difficult. I wish that wasn’t the case…. that there was more we could do. But for the foreseeable future, Horatio’s family now has a home. They have a wonderful church they can now be a part of. And, for better or worse, they have some very weird friends from America – who will most likely drop in on him about this time next year. He told us, “You have to come back and visit, so I can make you lunch again.” I, for one, plan on it.