Going

Like a typical college student, I went out of state for Spring Break this year to beautiful San Diego. Unlike a typical college student, I went with my church for a mission trip. For three days, we were on the SDSU campus, surveying students about their beliefs of God and Heaven and listening to talks by our pastor and his wife – all of which I’ll talk about in another blog entry soon. For the other two days, we hung out on Mission Beach, which was literally a five minute walk away, eating, surfing and having fun. While there, we stayed at the beautiful Bahia Resort Hotel and let me tell you, compared to my dorm room’s bed, the mattress I slept on felt like a cloud. Our private patio looked out onto an inlet of the ocean and we sometimes had two visiting ducks come right up to our sliding glass door. There was a small kitchen, a dining table, and – other than the fact that one of my roommates had to sleep on couch cushions on the floor (points to her for being awesome and a good sport about it) - there was room for all five of us roomies. Most days, since we were out by nine am and often not back until late at night, we didn’t see the maids come in to make our beds and clean. It was almost like little fairies were doing it.

Then, one of the days, the maid must have been in a rush because the dish towel was on the floor and the trash can was out, missing a new bag. I sighed with a minute feeling of irritation and put the garbage can away. Mostly, that irritation was rooted in the fact that I don’t like putting garbage into cans when they don’t have bags in them because it makes the can gross. But it was also partially in the fact that here was this woman (or man) who was supposed to be doing her job and she hadn’t done it all the way. Then, either the next day or the one after that, one of my roommates and I happened to come back to the hotel room while the maid was still there and as I sat down on my laptop, camera and iPod in hand, she cleaned up around me. And I felt very, very weird.

‘Why is it that I, at 19, get to sit here and pin cute things on Pinterest while this woman I don’t even know who is probably twice my age cleans up the mess I made?’ I thought to myself. Then I thought back to a conversation I’d had with a friend earlier this semester.

“I wonder how it feels for the people who work here (meaning ASU) to serve food to, clean the dishes of, and pick up after students who they know are going on to be things like doctors, lawyers, teachers, and engineers. Things they could never be because they never could afford college.”

I wondered then, and I wonder now, how it feels for people who are in less fortunate situations to look at people who have more than they do. I know sometimes I’ve felt like I don’t have as much as some of the girls on my floor do and even though I may not, when I was sitting in that hotel room with all of my electronics and blissful happiness at how my spring break was going, I had more than the woman who was washing my glass did. It really brought into perspective how far I’ve come from my past of being poor and although it’s not like I’m rich or anything, I’m going somewhere, making something of myself.

But that maid. Where is she going?