I remember Father Ted asking me to join the Newman Club for a mission trip to Mexico. He asked several times actually, and for many semesters and years in college I turned him down.
"College Life" always seemed to get in the way. Whether it was the baseball season or a girlfriend or laziness, they just seemed to take precedence in my life and inhibited me from being there. Father Ted was persistent to say the least, and he knew better God's plan for my life and the direction in which He needed me to travel.
I have again returned from Tijuana, Mexico, after another life liberating week of service and fellowship through the Esperanza program. I regret not being there in those early years in college. It isn't a regret that takes over my life and effects the future, but one that keeps me hungry to keep after those that haven't been their to join a group and come with us in the future, no matter what "Life" is getting in the way. It is a small regret that keeps me fighting on this side of the border, hanging Mexican flags and displaying pictures of our trips in my classroom at school. It is a small regret that helps me to get through one minute showers here in Iowa during the frigid winters, even when turning the water on would feel much better. But mostly I do these things not out of regret, but prominently for my simple, yet passionate love for Mexico.
Mexico is the first place where I truly felt the Spirit of God in my heart. God was finally able to break through these tough scales and remove the blinds from my eyes. My life has never been the same. Mexico is where I asked my wife Mary to marry me. Mexico, Tijuana, the Posada and surrounding community is the place I love the most in this world and Mary is the person I love the most in the world. The setting appeared to be very obvious to me. I remember how proud and joyful the folks at the work site were to know that I decided to ask Mary in their country, as opposed to anywhere else in the world. Mary said "yes", and we received a wedding gift from Catalina, whose house we were working on that week. We hugged Catalina and cried and shared a wonderfully intimate moment...I have trouble not crying even as I write, but why hold it in, what a wonderful moment. Finally, Mexico is where some of my closest friends live and work daily. This closeness led my wife and I to name our son, Thomas Zavala Hinderhofer, after our good friend Eduardo. Thomas is nine months old now. I thought we would probably wait until he was at least a year old before we practice putting away his toys in a bucket-line like formation between himself, Mary and I. I hope one day that he will be able to find something in his life that he is crazy passionate about to pursue.
I don't like returning from Mexico. I always cry on the last day during the reflection circle. Sometimes to the point where I can't speak. Two years ago we just hugged, and sobbed, and it was more than words could ever describe. Leaving there is always tough, and I feel as though part of me has been taken away, has gone missing, is lost. We have been home for about two weeks now, and I still awake slowly in the morning, hoping to wake up on a squeaky bunk-bed, body soar, hands calloused, hungry for more...I miss you so much...
I encourage you to continue your fight for what you love and what you hold dear about Esperanza. We all have so many stories and memories about why we continue to travel to the wonderful community. Whether it be the Esperanza Clinic or the girls orphanage, perhaps the families or the workers who give their lives each day. Continue to move, to press on, to make a difference where you most feel led. May God Bless you all and the seeds that you sew. May He make your paths straight, showering your lives with peace. May He give you the courage to step out and step forward towards His people with a love that is unstoppable.
My best to you, safe travels.
Steve Hinderhofer
"College Life" always seemed to get in the way. Whether it was the baseball season or a girlfriend or laziness, they just seemed to take precedence in my life and inhibited me from being there. Father Ted was persistent to say the least, and he knew better God's plan for my life and the direction in which He needed me to travel.
I have again returned from Tijuana, Mexico, after another life liberating week of service and fellowship through the Esperanza program. I regret not being there in those early years in college. It isn't a regret that takes over my life and effects the future, but one that keeps me hungry to keep after those that haven't been their to join a group and come with us in the future, no matter what "Life" is getting in the way. It is a small regret that keeps me fighting on this side of the border, hanging Mexican flags and displaying pictures of our trips in my classroom at school. It is a small regret that helps me to get through one minute showers here in Iowa during the frigid winters, even when turning the water on would feel much better. But mostly I do these things not out of regret, but prominently for my simple, yet passionate love for Mexico.
Mexico is the first place where I truly felt the Spirit of God in my heart. God was finally able to break through these tough scales and remove the blinds from my eyes. My life has never been the same. Mexico is where I asked my wife Mary to marry me. Mexico, Tijuana, the Posada and surrounding community is the place I love the most in this world and Mary is the person I love the most in the world. The setting appeared to be very obvious to me. I remember how proud and joyful the folks at the work site were to know that I decided to ask Mary in their country, as opposed to anywhere else in the world. Mary said "yes", and we received a wedding gift from Catalina, whose house we were working on that week. We hugged Catalina and cried and shared a wonderfully intimate moment...I have trouble not crying even as I write, but why hold it in, what a wonderful moment. Finally, Mexico is where some of my closest friends live and work daily. This closeness led my wife and I to name our son, Thomas Zavala Hinderhofer, after our good friend Eduardo. Thomas is nine months old now. I thought we would probably wait until he was at least a year old before we practice putting away his toys in a bucket-line like formation between himself, Mary and I. I hope one day that he will be able to find something in his life that he is crazy passionate about to pursue.
I don't like returning from Mexico. I always cry on the last day during the reflection circle. Sometimes to the point where I can't speak. Two years ago we just hugged, and sobbed, and it was more than words could ever describe. Leaving there is always tough, and I feel as though part of me has been taken away, has gone missing, is lost. We have been home for about two weeks now, and I still awake slowly in the morning, hoping to wake up on a squeaky bunk-bed, body soar, hands calloused, hungry for more...I miss you so much...
I encourage you to continue your fight for what you love and what you hold dear about Esperanza. We all have so many stories and memories about why we continue to travel to the wonderful community. Whether it be the Esperanza Clinic or the girls orphanage, perhaps the families or the workers who give their lives each day. Continue to move, to press on, to make a difference where you most feel led. May God Bless you all and the seeds that you sew. May He make your paths straight, showering your lives with peace. May He give you the courage to step out and step forward towards His people with a love that is unstoppable.
My best to you, safe travels.
Steve Hinderhofer
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