Costa Rica-Personal Narrative Essay

My sleep schedule is not a hearty one; my dependence on caffeine, therefore, is. Waking up and smelling freshly brewed coffee mixing with the cold, brisk morning air is bliss. Now, add riding a warm bus through a foreign land. This land contains every variation of forestry your brain is capable of imagining. Pair the greens with endless hills and mountains, and not one trail appears flat, but instead, the terrain is constantly traveling either up or down. Every house passed is a small, shanty, and generally made of painted metal. These homes do not amount to much by our American standards, but the pride and care taken in these structures are much more than ours. It appears very inch of these abodes and all belongings are taken care of and held with great pride. Surrounding the neighborhood is farmland full of coffee plants by the hundreds and sugar cane by the rows. This is a portrait of Costa Rica. For the first few hours I spent there, it was dark. Riding on a bumpy bus for over an hour, jet lagged, tired, and patiently waiting to arrive at Strong Missions, I could already, in complete darkness, smell a change in the air- no motor or factory smells, simply the scent of a farm or the mountains right before one hikes down. I squinted, trying my best to

Her tone was so dreary, so tired, so very downtrodden. She realized I had a light and happiness despite the things I had been through, and she did not. She saw her own hopelessness, as if me having something made her realize she was lacking. This is why I was allowed to go to Costa Rica. These few, sunny, sweaty hours outside with a young stranger was the reason God destined me to go on the mission trip. I pray a seed was planted and that now, a tree of faith is growing there, sharing the same words to others back home in