lessons from my heart in mexico

I recently went to Mexico City to visit a very good friend of mine named Valeria that lives there. We had met as missionaries in Ecuador and served together as companions. We will both unashamedly admit that we didn't get along at first. In fact, I probably fought with her more than I have fought with anybody in my life (apart from my brothers). Little by little, however, our hearts were softened towards one another and I have missed her dearly since I've come home from my mission.

Graciously she and her family let me stay at their house, eat their food and enjoy their company. I felt so wonderfully content to be a humbled observer of their lovely life. Their family constantly took care of one another and had such a sense of responsibility for each person in the family.

Her life is simple, clean, cozy, and delightful.

Lesson number one: Be humble, Jessica. Be very, very humble.

Another thing that I learned was something that seemed to come from Somewhere Else in my time of need. My life at home had suddenly become unstable and confusing and I was happy to leave all those worries behind. From the beginning, I had planned my trip to Mexico to have something exciting and adventurous to do at the end of the summer. By the time I got there, it had become a sanctuary for me to figure a few things out.

Wandering through museums of ancient artifacts and galleries of Mexican art, I began to puzzle over a little thing called courage. I don't really know what triggered it. The best answer to that question would be that it was implanted in my heart from heaven. Valeria and I talked about it multiple times and long in to the night.

Sometimes in life we have to be courageous and do the right thing. Stand up to bullies or call somebody out for bad behavior or disassociate ourselves with people that aren't good for us.

Sometimes in life we have to be courageous and refuse to do the wrong thing. Participate in dishonest actions of friends or do drugs or steal candy from the gas station despite peer pressure.

But Valeria and I discovered another kind of courage which, I'm afraid, is the hardest kind to have. It is to be courageous enough to live my dreams.

We both realized that we live our lives according to our fears.

I know what I want in life. I know what I want to have and do. I know where and how I want to live. Mostly, I know who I desperately want to become.

So what am I afraid of? Am I not powerful, confident, and capable?

Perhaps I'm a afraid of failure. Maybe I'm scared of rejection and heartbreak. Perchance my own potential scares me out of my pants.

Or maybe I'm afraid that I think I know what I want, but after I get it, I'll realize I had been lying to myself all along.

We both decided that we can no longer live like this. If I want a particular degree, I should earn it. If I want to travel to a certain place, I should go there. If I want to have a specific job, I should work until I get it. I don't deserve to have less than what I want. I never have.

Lesson number two: I can no longer afford to be afraid of my dreams.

The last thing that I learned has much to do with friendship.

Before I left on my merry way, I was worried about whether or not my friend and I would hit it off. I knew we got along great as missionaries, but I didn't know if we would click as regular humans. We're from different countries, at different places in our lives, and have different difficulties.

After less than 24 hours, I had those worries no more. We talked and talked about everything and in between. It felt like it had only been a week since we had seen each other, not two years. It was so lovely.

Lesson number three: Some friendships (despite the distance) never die.

Me and Valeria at el Castillo de Chapultepec