I picked up a cement-filled bucket, leaned it onto my pale thigh and took it to the designated area. Repeat.
Every time, I would try to add the next step of dumping this extraordinarily heavy bucket, and a vibrant smile would laugh as I struggled and do it for me. Repeat.
My disclaimer for this article is this: this is a highly emotional topic for me, and I’m not sure how to adequately write about that vibrant smile. All I really know is I'm planning to try.
That vibrant smile and I met in June of 2013. It was my first mission trip to Mexico and he was a local volunteer. That vibrant smile’s name was Samuel. He was my age and that young man had already given his heart to Christ. He had given his physical being to the heart of orphans. He was joyful, goofy and loving. I can’t remember a time he wasn’t smiling. Although that is as clichéd as it gets, it is incredibly true.
He was crazy stubborn, but in the most loving way. He would rather over-exert himself than have you break a sweat. I was blessed to meet his family and become an honorary member. To even use the word "blessed" is a true understatement. But that’s for another article at another time.
My second trip came to a close in the summer of 2014. A new group that was so much stronger than they had expected. He would tell us how amazed he was by our hearts; he had no clue how in awe we were of his. Only a month later did life turn upside for that vibrant smile in the form of a tumor. It was found in his brain, but he was stubborn and it never got the best of him.
He never stopped smiling, or loving. He had a heart so much bigger than anyone I had met (it was also filled with a lot of fruit juice)! A year passed and a third trip had come and gone in the summer of 2015 without seeing him. To me, it was unreal. My mission trips consisted of cement, children and Samuel; sometimes all of that mixed together.
On August 12, 2015, Samuel passed away.
Here’s where finding the words get tricky.
I found out in my home in Ohio. I mourned alone and felt helpless that I couldn’t help my Mexico family. I felt selfish for grieving but guilty for not helping. I couldn’t hug them through the tears, or hold them when no words could be found. I was stuck in a different country longing to go to the place I fell in love with. But I was able to share stories and moments with my friends. I am able to remember that smile that always took my bucket.
He was amazing. His smile was contagious. He was the chaos to each trip and we loved it. He was the one dancing by himself and before you knew it, you were dancing too. If you are reading this and you knew him, you are blessed. If you didn’t, then I leave you with this.
On my first trip there was a young girl who came running to me with tears overflowing out of her eyes. I was only able to understand parts of what she was describing, so I took her to Samuel because I knew he could help. He scooped her up and her tears stopped immediately. After he asked her what was wrong he soon pointed to me. He told her not to cry because I was a princess and I could help. He had me let my long red hair out of my bun and her mouth hung open. He laughed and smiled as she tried to play with my hair. That was Samuel.
