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Would you ever eat a guinea pig?
To many people around us, a very simple "No" would immediately follow by this question. However, I would like to say, if it means ____ I would gladly take a bite of a guinea pig. My mission trip to Bolivia changed my views and my perceptions of the world. It upgraded me to take an accurate approach to serve others.
I was never excited to eat all throughout my stay in Bolivia. Each day was a struggle as I forced myself to eat "soups that were basically consisted of rice and oil. Every four hours, Bolivian families came to our seminary school, taking turns in serving us a meal. Despite their care and effort, every day was a trauma for me as I feared each moment when I had to head to the kitchen. I forced every spoonful into my mouth, holding down my strong desire to throw up.
Nevertheless, the Bolivian families had a greater surprise for us, a surprise that brought more than just a shock. When I entered the kitchen not expecting any surprise, I stumbled upon the tables overflowing with fried guinea pigs. The guinea pigs were lying flat on each plate, hairless and sickening. There was no way in heaven and hell that I was going to eat a guinea pig. Yes, I was mature enough to feel the sincere appreciation in my heart; the fact that the Bolivians had prepared what was considered a very precious meal in their country. However, according to my first instinct and that of my fellow church members, it was obviously their misjudgment of choosing the menu. As the image of an alive, furry and cute guinea pig went across my mind, I could not help but to leave the kitchen door not even thinking twice about the grandmother who had prepared us the meal.
Shortly, however, there was a change in my perception of guinea pigs. One evening my missionary pastor took our church members to a busy market place. Startled by the new sight, my eyes were busy scanning the place. Nonetheless, after a few hours of roaming through the streets, I came across an old crippled grandma who seemed very familiar to my eyes. She was the grandma who prepared the guinea pigs for us that day. Leaning her weak body against a pole for support, the grandma continued to pour lemonades as she was wiping sweat off her face, which was forcefully hugging the raging sunlight. As I continued to observe the grandmother, I witnessed a boy grabbing a cup of the lemonade and handing her two Bolivian coins.
Even before I came to this mission, I have researched and found out that guinea pigs are an extremely special food in Bolivia. I have heard previously from my missionary pastor that children don't even get such a treat to eat on their birthdays. The scenes of the grandmother and the guinea pigs recaptured by my eyes traveled down to my heart and left a tingle. She was out in the sun working for so many days, hoping to collect enough money to serve us all. I knew the drinks weren't much hope, but the grandma continued to sell as it was her only way to serve us. Her crippled and old body looked almost helpless; wrinkle in her hands and her forehead told the story of her hard life.
At that moment I felt the little feeling growing into a hard squeeze in my heart that brought so much pain. I was awfully embarrassed of myself as I recaptured my past. For all my life, I have been thinking that I did goods and that I was more than caring. However, from the grandma's true serving to us, I accurately learned the meaning of serving. Serving doesn't simply mean giving and helping those who are lower and more deprived than I am. True serving meant being able to sacrifice and serve also those who are in greater position than I am in as well. Serving has no restrictions.
This kind of serving is almost nowhere to be found in the United States, where the fast-paced society is praising the individual success. Now, as I can proudly state the sincere meaning of a word "serving", I desire to start sharing this love at the Rutgers University where, I feel, there is much diversity and much greater potential than any other schools. It is my hope to take a part in this diverse community where I can certainly participate with fellow students and professors in renewing our lives through learning to serve each other.
Would you ever eat a guinea pig?
To many people around us, a very simple "No" would immediately follow by this question. However, I would like to say, if it means ____ I would gladly take a bite of a guinea pig. My mission trip to Bolivia changed my views and my perceptions of the world. It upgraded me to take an accurate approach to serve others.
I was never excited to eat all throughout my stay in Bolivia. Each day was a struggle as I forced myself to eat "soups that were basically consisted of rice and oil. Every four hours, Bolivian families came to our seminary school, taking turns in serving us a meal. Despite their care and effort, every day was a trauma for me as I feared each moment when I had to head to the kitchen. I forced every spoonful into my mouth, holding down my strong desire to throw up.
Nevertheless, the Bolivian families had a greater surprise for us, a surprise that brought more than just a shock. When I entered the kitchen not expecting any surprise, I stumbled upon the tables overflowing with fried guinea pigs. The guinea pigs were lying flat on each plate, hairless and sickening. There was no way in heaven and hell that I was going to eat a guinea pig. Yes, I was mature enough to feel the sincere appreciation in my heart; the fact that the Bolivians had prepared what was considered a very precious meal in their country. However, according to my first instinct and that of my fellow church members, it was obviously their misjudgment of choosing the menu. As the image of an alive, furry and cute guinea pig went across my mind, I could not help but to leave the kitchen door not even thinking twice about the grandmother who had prepared us the meal.
Shortly, however, there was a change in my perception of guinea pigs. One evening my missionary pastor took our church members to a busy market place. Startled by the new sight, my eyes were busy scanning the place. Nonetheless, after a few hours of roaming through the streets, I came across an old crippled grandma who seemed very familiar to my eyes. She was the grandma who prepared the guinea pigs for us that day. Leaning her weak body against a pole for support, the grandma continued to pour lemonades as she was wiping sweat off her face, which was forcefully hugging the raging sunlight. As I continued to observe the grandmother, I witnessed a boy grabbing a cup of the lemonade and handing her two Bolivian coins.
Even before I came to this mission, I have researched and found out that guinea pigs are an extremely special food in Bolivia. I have heard previously from my missionary pastor that children don't even get such a treat to eat on their birthdays. The scenes of the grandmother and the guinea pigs recaptured by my eyes traveled down to my heart and left a tingle. She was out in the sun working for so many days, hoping to collect enough money to serve us all. I knew the drinks weren't much hope, but the grandma continued to sell as it was her only way to serve us. Her crippled and old body looked almost helpless; wrinkle in her hands and her forehead told the story of her hard life.
At that moment I felt the little feeling growing into a hard squeeze in my heart that brought so much pain. I was awfully embarrassed of myself as I recaptured my past. For all my life, I have been thinking that I did goods and that I was more than caring. However, from the grandma's true serving to us, I accurately learned the meaning of serving. Serving doesn't simply mean giving and helping those who are lower and more deprived than I am. True serving meant being able to sacrifice and serve also those who are in greater position than I am in as well. Serving has no restrictions.
This kind of serving is almost nowhere to be found in the United States, where the fast-paced society is praising the individual success. Now, as I can proudly state the sincere meaning of a word "serving", I desire to start sharing this love at the Rutgers University where, I feel, there is much diversity and much greater potential than any other schools. It is my hope to take a part in this diverse community where I can certainly participate with fellow students and professors in renewing our lives through learning to serve each other.