Last Monday we started ministry sites. I will be working at a social work site now for 7 weeks, Monday through Friday from 9am to 3pm. Margie, another students international semester student, is working with me. We walk to the site every day in a community called El Callejon. When I first thought of coming to the Dominican Republic, I pictured El Callejon exactly. It is the slums of Piedra Blanca, the area I live in. El Callejon means “The Avenue”-it is a settlement that is wedged between two main roads-dirt roads stream with mudslides and garbage due to the almost constant rainfall. It is almost impossible to trudge through the streets without slipping. The houses are make-shift made with scrapwood and tin and whatever other materials are available. Houses share walls and roofs and little walkways weave through the community. It was a squatter village after a hurricane in 1998 and the people just settled and stayed. The whole community is about 4 city blocks long with about 400-500 people squeezed into that space. There is a cinderblock wall that stretches the length of the community on one side of it. It is about 8 feet tall. The story behind the wall is that the neighbors on the other side of it erected it to hide the poor community of El Callejon. It was built for segregation and represented the divide between classes. But the Students International art site came in and began to paint it- one section at a time with huge murals that all display God’s love for the community with pictures and scripture. They have taken that symbol of poverty and hopelessness and turned it around and made it into something so beautiful. I think that that image represents this community perfectly. The first day, after walking through the community, Margie and I were asked if we thought El Callejon was a poor community. The thought of a community with trash lining the streets, with people dirty and half-clothed sitting outside their houses, with stray dogs roaming, with babies crawling through mud puddles, all led my mind to answer yes, of course this is a materially poor community. They have water every other day. The electricity rarely works. Lots of times they go without food. This community, like the cinderblock wall, represents poverty. But as I have seen this week, the people in this community live together, providing for one another’s needs as they arise. They share the little food they’ve got. They care for the neighbor’s children. They spend time in relationship telling stories and laughing. El Callejon functions as a family. They take their poverty and turn it into something beautiful-just like that wall.
With that being said, I think sometimes we are too fast to decide if a community is poor by material measures. El Callejon is poor in material, but most of all is poor in spirit. Many people do not have jobs because of their low self-efficacy. Men objectify women and women think that they only have worth if they are with a man. Most children have an absent father and are born out of wedlock. Students drop out of school and do not set high goals for themselves. Alcoholism is present. Abuse occurs regularly. So many people have no hope for a better life. This is exactly the target of the social work site. We realize that we do not have the means to feed a whole community or to fix their plumbing or electricity. But we do have the ability and the passion build relationships with the women and girls in the community. We can lead bible studies and share God’s love and providence in their lives. We can mentor them to make better decisions and to set higher goals and to value themselves like God values each one of them. And so that is what we will be do. We take the passions and gifts that God has given us and make what we can of it. He will do the rest.
Margie and I will be leading 4 bible studies and teaching 2 English classes each week. In addition, we will be helping with crafts such as sewing, painting, and crocheting. We will be available for mentoring and counseling at any time during the day. We have 6 groups of women that come. Two groups are young girls, two groups are adolescents, one group is for young marrieds, and one is for women. The last three weeks here will be a little different. The women in this community so often live with a man who they call their husband but no legal measures have been taken so that they are actually married. The social work site has put a lot of weight on the significance of marriage and volunteers to help the women get their marriage legalized and have a real wedding. We have one day at the end of each year that couples can come to pre-marital counseling and then get their marriage papers from the country. We have 2 weeks of preparation and then the last week of pampering the women for the ceremony. This year we have 6 couples that will be getting married, so Margie and I get to participate in all of the festivities that go along with that. It’ll be a really great next 7 weeks and I’m excited to build relationships with the women in the community.
I think my favorite thing so far from site is being known in El Callejon. The first time we walked through we were merely spectators. Two American college students do not exactly blend into a community like that. But after being there a week, I feel like we have learned enough names and met a big percentage of the women and girls in the community that now we are viewed as a part of it. We participate in it daily and are no longer looked at as outsiders. It is so great to be able to walk down the street and be waived to and to call people by name and to be invited into their houses and into their daily lives. That is my goal here. I do not want to be a spectator, an outsider. I want to be welded into the culture and the lives of these women so that we can relate to one another and learn from each other.
This week, pray for the women in El Callejon and pray for Margie and I, that we may begin to build strong relationships and that we can effectively communicate God’s love in a tangible way.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
it's been a long while
Sorry to all of you who have been following my adventure, I know it's been FOREVER since I've last written. It's one of those things that keeps building day by day and becomes more overwhelming. I had to wait until I had a pretty big chunk of time to write. Keep in mind that the longer it took me to write all this, the longer it will take you to read it. My apologies in advance for those of you who only wanted the short version. With that being said, here are a few of my highlights and thoughts over the past two weeks:
We finished Spanish class on Friday, Oct. 8. Each person in my class had to give a presentation in Spanish about a topic of our choice. I talked about the history and culture of Jarabacoa in front of about 20 people for 10 minutes. It was a little nerve racking, but I did fine and it was a good test of our newly learned Spanish abilities. Later that night, we had a big banquet at the base celebrating our “graduation”. Each of the 4 levels of classes prepared a skit or a dance. Our class spent a whole night making a dance to the song “Waka Waka” by Shakira and performed at the banquet. It was a great night to let out any stress from the previous week and just be in community. And I’m not going to lie-it also feels great to be done with having 3 hours of homework every night!
From Saturday, Oct. 9 to Friday, Oct. 15 was our week for travel. Our group drove two hours to the capital (Santo Domingo) and stayed in a hostel there for 3 nights. As in other places in the country, the traffic is crazy getting into Santo Domingo. There is no such thing as traffic control-even at intersections-and it is necessary to be aggressive and cut off and weave around traffic in order to get anywhere. I’m just glad I never will be put behind the wheel in this country. This week is dedicated to learning about the history of the DR and experiencing it firsthand. Santo Domingo was the first city colonized by the Spanish in the western world and most of the original buildings are still standing. The streets are paved and the architecture is ornate. There is a town square with the first cathedral/university and many streets around it with little shops, restaurants, and street vendors. This part of the city is pretty Americanized. I saw a KFC and many restaurants sell hamburgers or pasta in addition to Dominican food. During the course of our first 2 days in Santo Domingo we visited a lighthouse that was dedicated to Christopher Columbus, a history museum, a modern art museum, a cemetery for important people in the history of the DR, a museum about Columbus, and also had lots of time to walk around and get to know the city. One night we went to the plaza and watched a mariachi band perform while Dominicans danced merengue. Another night we attended another outdoor concert where people just hung out and danced. That’s one thing I’ve learned. Dominicans love to dance. Monday we visited a beach 30 min. away in Boca Chica. It was exactly how I imagined the Caribbean beaches to look. I could walk into the water 100 feet out and still it only came to my waist and was crystal clear. It was a beautiful day to relax, swim, and sunbathe. And it helped that I knew that as I was soaking up the sun on a tropical beach, my friends back home were sitting in class dressed in sweatshirts. The fourth day of travel week we drove another 4 or 5 hours on bumpy dirt mountain roads to a beautiful national park called Los Haitises in the east. We stayed at an amazing hotel with every building and decoration made from all natural materials. It had about 15 natural water pools cut out from rocks and flowing into each other in a series of creeks and waterfalls. There is no way to describe how beautifully architected this hotel was. It was rustic and tranquil. Tuesday we went on hikes over hills and in caves. We saw cocoa and coffee trees. I tasted the fruit that chocolate comes from-it’s actually pretty sour! We took a boat ride through rivers that led out to the Samina bay. The trees there are called manglares. They grow above the water and their roots entangle with each other into the water and it looks so cool. Mountains surrounded us and the clouds reflected on the pristine water and palm trees lines the shores of many small islands. We spent Wednesday on a private beach on an uninhabited island and had time to swim and kayak in a beautiful bay of the Caribbean. It was absolutely breathtaking-like something out of a movie. Thursday we packed up to continue our travels and on the drive back to Santo Domingo we stopped to see another cave. After the cave we stopped at a gas station to get some snacks and thus began an interesting adventure that I’m sure most of you have heard about by now. Here’s how the story goes:
Right after we left the gas station, another student offered me a bit of one of her cookies. They were just chocolate sandwich cookies and I read through the ingredients in Spanish and I assumed they were okay because I only didn’t recognize a few words (this was my downfall). I had a small bite (about 1/3 of a cookie) and proceeded to talk. Margie made the comment that I was getting pretty adventurous with my allergy and I agreed, but that’s just part of being in a different country. I assured her that it was pretty safe because I’m always careful. As I usually do after I eat something new, I sat up and focused on how my throat felt just to make sure. I felt a little funny but nothing that my mind hadn’t tricked me into thinking before. About 3-4 minutes later, I started feeling really different. The tingly feeling in my throat kept progressing and that is when I knew. I was sitting in the exact middle of the 9 students in the back of the van (in 3 rows) and I immediately turned around and started mumbling “ok, wait…oh my gosh” and as my throat started tingling more “ok, guys, guys! I’m having an allergic reaction-this is not a joke-my throat is closing.” As I listened to my own words I heard them come out in a kermit the frog-like voice because of my restrained vocal chords. It was really weird. I shouted at Josh the driver to pull the van over to that we could get my Benadryl out of my suitcase in the back and that I would need medical help ASAP. At first everyone just froze for a couple seconds and it seems like forever to me that everyone was just staring trying to figure out what was happening. But then immediately all at once everyone snapped into ER mode and I started giving orders: for Neil to become acquainted with my epipen because he was going to be using it, for Vicki to call the SI doctor, for others to get me Benadryl and water. The students in the front immediately laid hands on me and started praying. Neil and Margie read my epipen label. Josh ran to the back to get my suitcase. Corrie filled my water bottle. I rolled up my shorts and turned my head as Neil counted to 3 and with all his might (and I have the bruise to prove it was in fact with all his might) stabbed the pen into my outer thigh. With the shot in my leg, we both counted 1 one thousand, 2 one thousand, 3 one thousand, all the way up to 10 and then a few more seconds for good measure. I felt my throat open and my heart speed up and immediately felt some relief. I then downed 3 Benadryl and lots of water in hopes that the Benadryl would kick in one the epinephrine wore off and the water would dilute the allergens and flush my body. I don’t know if that even makes any medical sense-but it sounded legit at the time. Josh started driving like a maniac and told me there was a clinic close. The first clinic knew nothing about allergic reactions and so we moved on in hopes of finding another one. In the meantime I called my mom and found out I needed a steroid to prevent the reaction from coming back. From then on, we just drove toward Santo Domingo and everyone kept an eye on me to make sure I was doing okay. I was calmed down but still unsure of what my reaction would bring since it’s been so long since last time I’ve experienced it. I was also super shaky because of the shot of adrenaline I had just gotten. Sure enough, after about 40 minutes of driving, my throat started tingling again. We were near Boca Chica at a stop light so in broken Spanish, Josh asked some people where the nearest hospital or clinic was. They said left so we went left. We were in the middle of a town that no one knew, so we shouted out the window at some workers to direct us. One, still with paint covering his hands, recognized the immediate need of some medical attention and hopped in the van with us and directed us to the clinic. We would have never found it without him. It was there that we explained the situation to a doctor and she got on the phone with Fernano-the SI doctor and he talked her through what she had to do. She luckily had the steroid that I needed so I got the shot in time. I also was prescribed steroid pills to take every 6 hours for the following three days to prevent the reaction from coming back until the allergens were out of my system. I felt pretty good after the whole experience. I was definitely shaken, as was everyone else (I think even more so than me), but I had survived and everything was okay. God is good! It actually surprised me how calm I was the entire time. I went back and forth from being totally freaked out to the other extreme of laughing and poking fun at the whole experience. I realized that there was nothing more I could do so I just tried to make the most of it. At least now I know what a reaction feels like and how to handle it. That’s a plus! The rest of the day I was really tired due to all the excitement, using all my energy in the adrenaline rush, the 3 Benadryl I had taken, all the other drugs pumped through me, and just the normal exhaustion of a long day of hiking and traveling. I felt so bad because no one got to eat lunch due to my little episode, but we all went to Hard Rock Café for dinner so it made up for it (even though I couldn’t eat it because they cooked with stupid peanut oil). We stayed at the Santo Domingo hostel again that night for the last night of travel week. I slept like a baby.
The next day we went to like 4 more museums, and another cave. One of the museums was Diego Columbus’ house (Christopher’s son). It was pretty interesting to see his set up and know that it was from the 16th century. Friday, after we had finished visiting all of the historical sites that we needed to, we made the two hour drive back to Jarabacoa. Another girl in the group had been throwing up for 2 days straight, and another one had a panic attack. Travel week was a lot of fun but we’ve been having a lot of medical troubles, so just continue to pray for our group and our health. It’s been something or another for almost everyone here. I guess that’s just part of the experience of being in a foreign country.
We ate dinner that night with a group of Americans on a short term mission trip that had just flown in to work with SI for the week. We moved all of our stuff into a cabin at the base where we would be staying for the next week. Saturday we started ministry class. A professor from Bethel flew down to spend 3 days teaching us what a normal class would cover in 3 months. We covered the Bible in 7 acts, the history of missions in the church, and the evolution of methods of missions into what it is today. We also talked about “the call” to missions and had a question and answer session with local missionaries. It was such a great class! Sunday night we had culture night with the group of Americans (mostly adults from a church in Indiana). We learned Merengue and a cup game. I love dancing so much! That is a big part of Dominican culture that I will miss when we return to the states.
Tuesday we started culture class with Samuel-a local Dominican man who studied sociology and started an mission organization called NET. We learned about the history and culture of the DR. We mostly talked about the mosaic of this country. It is the most multi-ethnic accepting Latin American country. There is such a diverse mix of people here due to people groups immigrating during different time periods. I love that about the DR-it’s such a beautiful country filled with such a beautiful mosaic of people-everyone from Europeans to Africans to Spanish to Arabic to Japanese. I feel like a minority here but at the same time I feel so accepted for who I was made to be.
Tuesday night our group had a big cross cultural experience. I say that because we spent the night in town with the group of Americans that were here for a mission trip, and American culture is the foreign one to us now. It was interesting to see from a 3rd person point of view the interactions between both these contrasting cultures that we have identified with and know so well. We only went for about 2 hours-one hour to shop for souvenirs and one to eat. Everyone was so concerned with time. I guess we’ve just gotten used to Dominican time-a.k.a. there is no such thing as time-and it was hard to process. They had to keep on the strict schedule and couldn’t handle something changing. The group would try to speak to the shop owners and when they didn’t understand their English, they would say it louder and act it out in overemphasized motions. This is a natural tendency that we all have, but really it’s silly when you see it happen. At the restaurant, one lady insisted that the ice was dirty and she made a point to collect everyone’s ice from their cups and dump it outside, even though she saw all of us drinking it. It was really a funny scene seeing the Americans interact with the new people and culture. I’m glad we got the orientation that we did so we didn’t look quite as silly at the beginning of our time here. Really it was all a learning experience and reminded us that we are going to reenter American culture and need to be able to reconcile the differences. We didn’t even realized how much we had changed until we had this experience. But we also need to realize that we are so blessed to have had this experience and had the opportunity to learn and to broaden our worldviews. We need to be stewards of this blessing and use it to live differently but still accept American culture for what it is. It will be a tedious balancing act, but they will prepare us for it when the time comes. Right now, we still have 8 more weeks to soak up this culture and to learn even more so we need to stay focused on that.
All in all, our two weeks away from our family was great for time to spend with our group. I got to know our team so much better and it was so fun to be able to spend hours every night playing games together and reflecting on our experiences. Our group has such a great team chemistry-we all get along so well. I don’t think I’ve felt so at peace with a group of people in my life. We are all so different but it just works. It was a blessing to spend 2 weeks with all of them. But, at the end of it all, I was so ready to return to my family. I had felt like a vagabond moving all the time and living out of a suitcase for 2 weeks. I wanted to go home.
When I walked in the door of my home Friday morning, such a feeling of belonging swept over me. Mami and Cheila and Ashley and Alberto all ran up and greeted us with the biggest smiles on their faces and we hugged for so long. This culture truly knows what love and family is. They had all heard about my incident and were so concerned and had a million questions. My family is so protective of me. Amy and I moved into our rooms-we switched so now my window is the one that looks into the church. It was the absolute best feeling to unpack and get settled somewhere. I felt so at peace.
I’ll have to write about my experiences from this week and starting ministry sites later and post it Saturday because I don’t have more time at the base for internet today. Thanks to all of you who have been supporting me though this journey in prayer. I love you all!
We finished Spanish class on Friday, Oct. 8. Each person in my class had to give a presentation in Spanish about a topic of our choice. I talked about the history and culture of Jarabacoa in front of about 20 people for 10 minutes. It was a little nerve racking, but I did fine and it was a good test of our newly learned Spanish abilities. Later that night, we had a big banquet at the base celebrating our “graduation”. Each of the 4 levels of classes prepared a skit or a dance. Our class spent a whole night making a dance to the song “Waka Waka” by Shakira and performed at the banquet. It was a great night to let out any stress from the previous week and just be in community. And I’m not going to lie-it also feels great to be done with having 3 hours of homework every night!
From Saturday, Oct. 9 to Friday, Oct. 15 was our week for travel. Our group drove two hours to the capital (Santo Domingo) and stayed in a hostel there for 3 nights. As in other places in the country, the traffic is crazy getting into Santo Domingo. There is no such thing as traffic control-even at intersections-and it is necessary to be aggressive and cut off and weave around traffic in order to get anywhere. I’m just glad I never will be put behind the wheel in this country. This week is dedicated to learning about the history of the DR and experiencing it firsthand. Santo Domingo was the first city colonized by the Spanish in the western world and most of the original buildings are still standing. The streets are paved and the architecture is ornate. There is a town square with the first cathedral/university and many streets around it with little shops, restaurants, and street vendors. This part of the city is pretty Americanized. I saw a KFC and many restaurants sell hamburgers or pasta in addition to Dominican food. During the course of our first 2 days in Santo Domingo we visited a lighthouse that was dedicated to Christopher Columbus, a history museum, a modern art museum, a cemetery for important people in the history of the DR, a museum about Columbus, and also had lots of time to walk around and get to know the city. One night we went to the plaza and watched a mariachi band perform while Dominicans danced merengue. Another night we attended another outdoor concert where people just hung out and danced. That’s one thing I’ve learned. Dominicans love to dance. Monday we visited a beach 30 min. away in Boca Chica. It was exactly how I imagined the Caribbean beaches to look. I could walk into the water 100 feet out and still it only came to my waist and was crystal clear. It was a beautiful day to relax, swim, and sunbathe. And it helped that I knew that as I was soaking up the sun on a tropical beach, my friends back home were sitting in class dressed in sweatshirts. The fourth day of travel week we drove another 4 or 5 hours on bumpy dirt mountain roads to a beautiful national park called Los Haitises in the east. We stayed at an amazing hotel with every building and decoration made from all natural materials. It had about 15 natural water pools cut out from rocks and flowing into each other in a series of creeks and waterfalls. There is no way to describe how beautifully architected this hotel was. It was rustic and tranquil. Tuesday we went on hikes over hills and in caves. We saw cocoa and coffee trees. I tasted the fruit that chocolate comes from-it’s actually pretty sour! We took a boat ride through rivers that led out to the Samina bay. The trees there are called manglares. They grow above the water and their roots entangle with each other into the water and it looks so cool. Mountains surrounded us and the clouds reflected on the pristine water and palm trees lines the shores of many small islands. We spent Wednesday on a private beach on an uninhabited island and had time to swim and kayak in a beautiful bay of the Caribbean. It was absolutely breathtaking-like something out of a movie. Thursday we packed up to continue our travels and on the drive back to Santo Domingo we stopped to see another cave. After the cave we stopped at a gas station to get some snacks and thus began an interesting adventure that I’m sure most of you have heard about by now. Here’s how the story goes:
Right after we left the gas station, another student offered me a bit of one of her cookies. They were just chocolate sandwich cookies and I read through the ingredients in Spanish and I assumed they were okay because I only didn’t recognize a few words (this was my downfall). I had a small bite (about 1/3 of a cookie) and proceeded to talk. Margie made the comment that I was getting pretty adventurous with my allergy and I agreed, but that’s just part of being in a different country. I assured her that it was pretty safe because I’m always careful. As I usually do after I eat something new, I sat up and focused on how my throat felt just to make sure. I felt a little funny but nothing that my mind hadn’t tricked me into thinking before. About 3-4 minutes later, I started feeling really different. The tingly feeling in my throat kept progressing and that is when I knew. I was sitting in the exact middle of the 9 students in the back of the van (in 3 rows) and I immediately turned around and started mumbling “ok, wait…oh my gosh” and as my throat started tingling more “ok, guys, guys! I’m having an allergic reaction-this is not a joke-my throat is closing.” As I listened to my own words I heard them come out in a kermit the frog-like voice because of my restrained vocal chords. It was really weird. I shouted at Josh the driver to pull the van over to that we could get my Benadryl out of my suitcase in the back and that I would need medical help ASAP. At first everyone just froze for a couple seconds and it seems like forever to me that everyone was just staring trying to figure out what was happening. But then immediately all at once everyone snapped into ER mode and I started giving orders: for Neil to become acquainted with my epipen because he was going to be using it, for Vicki to call the SI doctor, for others to get me Benadryl and water. The students in the front immediately laid hands on me and started praying. Neil and Margie read my epipen label. Josh ran to the back to get my suitcase. Corrie filled my water bottle. I rolled up my shorts and turned my head as Neil counted to 3 and with all his might (and I have the bruise to prove it was in fact with all his might) stabbed the pen into my outer thigh. With the shot in my leg, we both counted 1 one thousand, 2 one thousand, 3 one thousand, all the way up to 10 and then a few more seconds for good measure. I felt my throat open and my heart speed up and immediately felt some relief. I then downed 3 Benadryl and lots of water in hopes that the Benadryl would kick in one the epinephrine wore off and the water would dilute the allergens and flush my body. I don’t know if that even makes any medical sense-but it sounded legit at the time. Josh started driving like a maniac and told me there was a clinic close. The first clinic knew nothing about allergic reactions and so we moved on in hopes of finding another one. In the meantime I called my mom and found out I needed a steroid to prevent the reaction from coming back. From then on, we just drove toward Santo Domingo and everyone kept an eye on me to make sure I was doing okay. I was calmed down but still unsure of what my reaction would bring since it’s been so long since last time I’ve experienced it. I was also super shaky because of the shot of adrenaline I had just gotten. Sure enough, after about 40 minutes of driving, my throat started tingling again. We were near Boca Chica at a stop light so in broken Spanish, Josh asked some people where the nearest hospital or clinic was. They said left so we went left. We were in the middle of a town that no one knew, so we shouted out the window at some workers to direct us. One, still with paint covering his hands, recognized the immediate need of some medical attention and hopped in the van with us and directed us to the clinic. We would have never found it without him. It was there that we explained the situation to a doctor and she got on the phone with Fernano-the SI doctor and he talked her through what she had to do. She luckily had the steroid that I needed so I got the shot in time. I also was prescribed steroid pills to take every 6 hours for the following three days to prevent the reaction from coming back until the allergens were out of my system. I felt pretty good after the whole experience. I was definitely shaken, as was everyone else (I think even more so than me), but I had survived and everything was okay. God is good! It actually surprised me how calm I was the entire time. I went back and forth from being totally freaked out to the other extreme of laughing and poking fun at the whole experience. I realized that there was nothing more I could do so I just tried to make the most of it. At least now I know what a reaction feels like and how to handle it. That’s a plus! The rest of the day I was really tired due to all the excitement, using all my energy in the adrenaline rush, the 3 Benadryl I had taken, all the other drugs pumped through me, and just the normal exhaustion of a long day of hiking and traveling. I felt so bad because no one got to eat lunch due to my little episode, but we all went to Hard Rock Café for dinner so it made up for it (even though I couldn’t eat it because they cooked with stupid peanut oil). We stayed at the Santo Domingo hostel again that night for the last night of travel week. I slept like a baby.
The next day we went to like 4 more museums, and another cave. One of the museums was Diego Columbus’ house (Christopher’s son). It was pretty interesting to see his set up and know that it was from the 16th century. Friday, after we had finished visiting all of the historical sites that we needed to, we made the two hour drive back to Jarabacoa. Another girl in the group had been throwing up for 2 days straight, and another one had a panic attack. Travel week was a lot of fun but we’ve been having a lot of medical troubles, so just continue to pray for our group and our health. It’s been something or another for almost everyone here. I guess that’s just part of the experience of being in a foreign country.
We ate dinner that night with a group of Americans on a short term mission trip that had just flown in to work with SI for the week. We moved all of our stuff into a cabin at the base where we would be staying for the next week. Saturday we started ministry class. A professor from Bethel flew down to spend 3 days teaching us what a normal class would cover in 3 months. We covered the Bible in 7 acts, the history of missions in the church, and the evolution of methods of missions into what it is today. We also talked about “the call” to missions and had a question and answer session with local missionaries. It was such a great class! Sunday night we had culture night with the group of Americans (mostly adults from a church in Indiana). We learned Merengue and a cup game. I love dancing so much! That is a big part of Dominican culture that I will miss when we return to the states.
Tuesday we started culture class with Samuel-a local Dominican man who studied sociology and started an mission organization called NET. We learned about the history and culture of the DR. We mostly talked about the mosaic of this country. It is the most multi-ethnic accepting Latin American country. There is such a diverse mix of people here due to people groups immigrating during different time periods. I love that about the DR-it’s such a beautiful country filled with such a beautiful mosaic of people-everyone from Europeans to Africans to Spanish to Arabic to Japanese. I feel like a minority here but at the same time I feel so accepted for who I was made to be.
Tuesday night our group had a big cross cultural experience. I say that because we spent the night in town with the group of Americans that were here for a mission trip, and American culture is the foreign one to us now. It was interesting to see from a 3rd person point of view the interactions between both these contrasting cultures that we have identified with and know so well. We only went for about 2 hours-one hour to shop for souvenirs and one to eat. Everyone was so concerned with time. I guess we’ve just gotten used to Dominican time-a.k.a. there is no such thing as time-and it was hard to process. They had to keep on the strict schedule and couldn’t handle something changing. The group would try to speak to the shop owners and when they didn’t understand their English, they would say it louder and act it out in overemphasized motions. This is a natural tendency that we all have, but really it’s silly when you see it happen. At the restaurant, one lady insisted that the ice was dirty and she made a point to collect everyone’s ice from their cups and dump it outside, even though she saw all of us drinking it. It was really a funny scene seeing the Americans interact with the new people and culture. I’m glad we got the orientation that we did so we didn’t look quite as silly at the beginning of our time here. Really it was all a learning experience and reminded us that we are going to reenter American culture and need to be able to reconcile the differences. We didn’t even realized how much we had changed until we had this experience. But we also need to realize that we are so blessed to have had this experience and had the opportunity to learn and to broaden our worldviews. We need to be stewards of this blessing and use it to live differently but still accept American culture for what it is. It will be a tedious balancing act, but they will prepare us for it when the time comes. Right now, we still have 8 more weeks to soak up this culture and to learn even more so we need to stay focused on that.
All in all, our two weeks away from our family was great for time to spend with our group. I got to know our team so much better and it was so fun to be able to spend hours every night playing games together and reflecting on our experiences. Our group has such a great team chemistry-we all get along so well. I don’t think I’ve felt so at peace with a group of people in my life. We are all so different but it just works. It was a blessing to spend 2 weeks with all of them. But, at the end of it all, I was so ready to return to my family. I had felt like a vagabond moving all the time and living out of a suitcase for 2 weeks. I wanted to go home.
When I walked in the door of my home Friday morning, such a feeling of belonging swept over me. Mami and Cheila and Ashley and Alberto all ran up and greeted us with the biggest smiles on their faces and we hugged for so long. This culture truly knows what love and family is. They had all heard about my incident and were so concerned and had a million questions. My family is so protective of me. Amy and I moved into our rooms-we switched so now my window is the one that looks into the church. It was the absolute best feeling to unpack and get settled somewhere. I felt so at peace.
I’ll have to write about my experiences from this week and starting ministry sites later and post it Saturday because I don’t have more time at the base for internet today. Thanks to all of you who have been supporting me though this journey in prayer. I love you all!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
crunch time
It's finals week and life is crazy. I pulled an almost-all nighter last night completing papers for Spanish classes and for ministry class at Bethel. This is the last week of our 5 week intensive study of the language and it's crunch time. I had 2 big finals, 1 five page paper and presentation, 2 more two page papers, a song in Spanish to memorize, a dance to make up and memorize, and 2 other six page papers for ministry. On top of that, we will be leaving our families for two weeks as of Friday for travel week and ministry class week at the base, so I'm trying to squeeze in quality time with the fam. Needless to say, the stress level has been a little higher this week.
It's easy to switch back to an American mindset of checklist mentality, even in such a relaxed culture like this one. It's easy to get caught up in the fast-paced life of spitting out papers and trying to fit relationships in between the study time. It's easy to wish time away during weeks like this one.
Reality check. I just took an hour away from the finals week grind to lay on a hammock outside at the base and it just hit me. I am in the Dominican Republic. I am living in a Caribbean country that so many people from the states dream of visiting. This is my life for the next three months. Mountains and palm trees tower over me. Tropical flowers and exotic creatures are at my feet. God's beautiful creation surrounds me and all I see is papers to write and time to wish away.
What are you so preoccupied with in your life that you can't pause and fully breathe in God's glorious creation just outside of that window, or wholly acknowledge all of his blessings he's bestowed upon you? Don't wish time away. Time is a precious gift and each breath we breathe is a symbol of God's grace.
Look around and give God glory for today.
It's easy to switch back to an American mindset of checklist mentality, even in such a relaxed culture like this one. It's easy to get caught up in the fast-paced life of spitting out papers and trying to fit relationships in between the study time. It's easy to wish time away during weeks like this one.
Reality check. I just took an hour away from the finals week grind to lay on a hammock outside at the base and it just hit me. I am in the Dominican Republic. I am living in a Caribbean country that so many people from the states dream of visiting. This is my life for the next three months. Mountains and palm trees tower over me. Tropical flowers and exotic creatures are at my feet. God's beautiful creation surrounds me and all I see is papers to write and time to wish away.
What are you so preoccupied with in your life that you can't pause and fully breathe in God's glorious creation just outside of that window, or wholly acknowledge all of his blessings he's bestowed upon you? Don't wish time away. Time is a precious gift and each breath we breathe is a symbol of God's grace.
Look around and give God glory for today.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Psalm 8
My new favorite Psalm.
O LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!
You have set your glory
above the heavens.
From the lips of children and infants
you have ordained praise
because of your enemies,
to silence the foe and the avenger.
When I consider your heavens,
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
the son of man that you care for him?
You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings
and crowned him with glory and honor.
You made him ruler over the works of your hands;
you put everything under his feet:
all flocks and herds,
and the beasts of the field,
the birds of the air,
and the fish of the sea,
all that swim the paths of the seas.
O LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!
This Psalm is about the splendor of God's creation. I've seen that so much on this trip. It is a BEAUTIFUL country and I thank him all the time for the glorious views I see every day. But more than that, God's creation and his name are majestic in ALL the earth, across countries, customs, and cultures. I love that I can come to a completely new place in a completely new language and people are worshiping the same God that I serve. That is beautiful to me.
O LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!
You have set your glory
above the heavens.
From the lips of children and infants
you have ordained praise
because of your enemies,
to silence the foe and the avenger.
When I consider your heavens,
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
the son of man that you care for him?
You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings
and crowned him with glory and honor.
You made him ruler over the works of your hands;
you put everything under his feet:
all flocks and herds,
and the beasts of the field,
the birds of the air,
and the fish of the sea,
all that swim the paths of the seas.
O LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!
This Psalm is about the splendor of God's creation. I've seen that so much on this trip. It is a BEAUTIFUL country and I thank him all the time for the glorious views I see every day. But more than that, God's creation and his name are majestic in ALL the earth, across countries, customs, and cultures. I love that I can come to a completely new place in a completely new language and people are worshiping the same God that I serve. That is beautiful to me.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
chicken for lunch
This past Monday was a day to remember. When Amy and I had told my brother that I wanted to learn to cook like a Dominican, we didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into. Lunch alone here takes 2 ½ hours to complete, but I never really understood why. I understand now. After completing my homework for the morning, I heard my brother, Alberto’s voice calling to me to come outside. We were going to begin our cooking lessons from the very first step. I got out my recipe book, eager to write down every detail, so that I could return to the states and recreate the incredible Dominican cuisine. But as soon as I saw those cute little dove-like birds huddled up in the corner of our porch, I knew that I would probably not want to record this part for re-creation. This would not be like cooking in the states. When I want chicken, I reach into my freezer and choose from breaded nuggets, or BBQ strips. When a Dominican wants chicken, which is daily for lunch, he grabs one of the many birds in the yard and starts from the very beginning. Alberto chose two, of course the two cutest ones that I was crossing my fingers would escape his grasp. He tied one up, feet in the air, with its neck conveniently dangling about waist high. Amy had decided she couldn’t watch, and I ran and grabbed my camera to catch all the action. Alberto knew that the Americans would react to the dramatics of it all, so he put on a show. With a mischievous grin on his face, and a sharpened knife in his hand, he slowly sawed off the head of the first chicken. I stood there for 2 minutes, wincing and groaning as the chicken’s nervous system took over, it’s head on the ground. It continued to flail its wings frantically while a fountain of blood squirted out from the stub of a neck and splatter-painted the wall a shade of crimson. After the dead bird had stopped twitching, Yoeni , our family friend, took over. She is the strongest and kindest girl I’ve ever met. I’ll tell more about her in my next blog. Anyway, she detached the bird from the rope, and carried the bloody, limp body over to a pot of hot water to wash it. After that she started plucking out all the feathers. Amy and I got in on this part, yet I admit, most of the time I was just moving my hands over the chicken to make it look like I was doing something. I only plucked 2 feathers in all I think. Alberto soon came over with the second dead chicken and we repeated the process. Then Alberto cut open the bottom of the chicken for the removal of the organs. One must have had some air trapped in him because he let out a fairly loud fart. I never knew chickens did that! Maybe they only do when their dead. Next thing I knew Alberto’s hand was all the way up the chicken scraping out all of its insides. Amy wanted to give it a try and made a valiant effort to do the same with the other. I was content just watching. After being washed again and cut into the parts of the chicken that we all know so well, it finally started looking like the familiar pieces of meat covered in clear plastic that you so often see in the refrigerated section at supermarkets in the states. An hour had already passed just to get to this point. It took us 2 more hours to cut up vegetables (which is something I can stomach) and cook the chicken along with rice and beans that accompany every main course in this country. When the meal was served, all I could picture were those cute little feathery friends staring at me from my dinner plate. I picked at the chicken and dove right into the rice and beans, although I did try the chicken foot for good measure. It was mostly just rubbery like fat. Alberto commented that we had finished our plates, while normally we leave a lot more rice and beans for the dogs. I explained that for some strange reason I just started liking rice and beans a lot more today. I think he got the hint. It might take me a few days to get over the knowledge of this entire process. There’s just something about in a scheme of 2 hours, seeing a cute white bird turn into the chicken leg on my plate that stifles my appetite a bit. But it’s part of life in this country. It’s part of my life now. It’s just one of the new experiences here to embrace and accept. And I’m sure that during this adventure, there will be many, many more. So bring ‘em on!
Saturday, September 25, 2010
restoration, relationships, and rapids
It seems like FOREVER since I've written. And I have SO much to say. But I'll try to just sum it up.
I had been doing great here. No problems. No culture shock. Life was good. It was too easy of an adjustment. It didn't last.
A week ago today, I was on my computer checking emails and all of a sudden the screen went black. And it wouldn't turn back on. All I could think of was that I'm in a foreign country, no hope of getting it fixed, just lost all of my pictures including the recent 1000 from Israel, and all my documents including half completed homework assignments for this semester. What's worse is that I didn't have any means to get a new one.
Back up 1 month. A week before I came here, I was at a Chicago Beach and got over 1000 dollars worth of stuff stolen from me, including my camera I bought for the DR. The good news is that God worked that all out. I was still out the money, but I had luckily forgotten to put my memory card in my camera the night before so I didn't lose all of my pictures. My mom had a free upgrade so I got a new phone. I didn't need a license because I was going out of the country and would need a new one after I turned 21 anyway. And I was so blessed with some help from a friend in paying for a new camera. The timing was bad, but God had layed out the groundwork for me to work through it. I've learned this lesson so many times. In times of despair, I freak out and think my world is crashing in. But in these times, God always softens the blow and calms the storm with so many blessings. I just need to trust him.
Back to my computer crashing. I could not deal with another 1000 dollar cost. And being in a foreign country left me completely helpless. This was a big burden, and little things started happening that same weekend. I finally hit culture shock. I finally broke down from missing people back home. It's in those times that I need someone to lean on that I realize no one is here. So I had a one day pity party. How easy it is to forget God's faithfulness when we're at our lowest points. When we need to trust Him most. I found out two days later that my Josh's roommate, Hartsell, had bought another computer two weeks ago, and in return Josh bought his old one off of him for super cheap only a few days before mine crashed(because, as a lot of you already know, my computer was already pretty jank before coming here). It was supposed to be a Christmas gift but guess I get that one a little early :-) It also worked out that our leader had to go back to the states for work last Sunday, so he was able to take my crashed computer home and return with a new one. Hartsell was able to transfer all of my files and pictures. God is good. Even when I forget it. And that happens all too often. He paves the way for us to get through rough situations.
Since then, this week has been truly wonderful! We've really deepened the relationships with our two brothers. On Monday, Amy and I made the infamous Dominican dessert avichuelas con dulce (sweet beans) with Alberto (our 30yr old brother). It was kind of a relief to hang out with someone more our age because our best friends are a 12 year old and a 5 year old. The dessert wasn't great. Anything that involves mixing blended beans, water, milk, brown sugar, raisins, and euka (a Dominican vegetable) is not too appetizing. But the company was great. We found out that the family had recently lost the youngest son in a drunk driving accident just 3 years ago. Alberto told us that our youngest brother Marcos hasn't talked a whole lot since then. Family means so much to the people here. Our sister lives in the house behind us, Alberto just built a house a few minutes away, and Marcos lives in a sweet treehouse above our family shop. I've found that the best way to get to know people is through cooking and eating. So we've been doing a lot of that recently. Last night, we had 2 friends from our group over to spend the night and we spent the whole day with Marcos (28yrs old). And he was so talkative! We learned that his favorite movie is Titanic and anything else romantic. So THAT's the movies we hear late at night all the way from his treehouse. It's so great to see people warming up to us and treating us like family. I feel like I've truly gained a mother, father, sister, brothers, grandma, and such close friends. They're going to have to drag me onto that plane come December.
Every Saturday, we go on excursions. Some are more hardcore than others. Today was beyond words...
"I thought I was going to die multiple times!" -Eric Miller last year in chapel reflecting on this excursion.
He was lying, I thought.
"I know some realy tough outdoors-ey guys that go white water rafting and kayaking all the time on super dangerous rivers. When I told them we did this excursion, they couldn't believe it and proceded to swear that we were competely crazy" -Our leader, Ryan
They must be thinking of another river, I thought. They wouldn't really risk our lives. We had a choice to go or not. Why not? I stepped up and wrote my name under the 'yes' column.
"Okay, you guys that signed up are going to have to sign a couple waivers here. I made another one, and made sure I added the phrase 'in case of death' after last year's experience. No promises" -Our leader, Josh
Those things are always overrated, I thought.
I was wrong. We arrived at the tour place today, and once we were all suited up in our wet suits, life vests, and helmets, I knew that they were serious.
We went tubing today down a river. And by tubing I mean a small rubber tire with no handles. And by river I mean mighty rushing rapids with jagged boulders poking up and hidden beneath the brown-green water. We had the choice of starting in 2 different places, and of course, feeling invincible and ready for the challenge, we leaped at the opportunity to take on the route with bigger and stronger rapids further upstream. Each cascade around a rock or down a fall sent you hurling from your tube and tossling around in the rapids gasping for air and trying with all your might to survive the next hit. The first rapids I went down on my back, head first, not able to see the boulders charging towards me. The second round, I flipped from my tube and ended up going head first on my stomach. I'm not sure seeing the boulders come was much better. Only more frantic. In an effort to protect my face and while flailing my arms to stay above water, my stomach took the hits of the harsh rocks, piercing into my vital organs. The third rapids wasn't rocky, but lucky me got hurled into a water cyclone that sucked me under and spit me out 15 feet down the river. The intermittent breaks were used for catching a breath and remounting my tube which was usually 20 feet away, without being swept away by the inevitable current. My roommte thought she broke her leg, but turns out it was just badly bruised. One girl can't use her ankle. I'm pretty sure I have internal bleeding. And another girl got stuck on a log in the middle of the worst rapid with pounds and pounds of water pressure cascading over her every second. I think got run over by other people in our group at least 3 times. She was stuck there for a good 20 minutes with guides throwing her ropes and when she made it through literally had no energy to lift a hand. I actually stayed on my tube for this rapid, which was the worst of it. But after this, half of us were too injured to go on, so we exited the river and took a 40 minute walk back to the tour place, each with a limp favoring a different part of our body.
Overall, it was a terrifying experience, but I'm almost glad I did it, just for the story and battle wounds. I thought I was going to die multiple times, but I'm proud of us for braving the storm and facing it head on. To me, we came out like champions. What a day.
From computer crashes to bean desserts to surviving a near death experience, this week has been packed with exciting things. And through it all, I know that God is so good for every experience we have been given in this beautiful country.
I had been doing great here. No problems. No culture shock. Life was good. It was too easy of an adjustment. It didn't last.
A week ago today, I was on my computer checking emails and all of a sudden the screen went black. And it wouldn't turn back on. All I could think of was that I'm in a foreign country, no hope of getting it fixed, just lost all of my pictures including the recent 1000 from Israel, and all my documents including half completed homework assignments for this semester. What's worse is that I didn't have any means to get a new one.
Back up 1 month. A week before I came here, I was at a Chicago Beach and got over 1000 dollars worth of stuff stolen from me, including my camera I bought for the DR. The good news is that God worked that all out. I was still out the money, but I had luckily forgotten to put my memory card in my camera the night before so I didn't lose all of my pictures. My mom had a free upgrade so I got a new phone. I didn't need a license because I was going out of the country and would need a new one after I turned 21 anyway. And I was so blessed with some help from a friend in paying for a new camera. The timing was bad, but God had layed out the groundwork for me to work through it. I've learned this lesson so many times. In times of despair, I freak out and think my world is crashing in. But in these times, God always softens the blow and calms the storm with so many blessings. I just need to trust him.
Back to my computer crashing. I could not deal with another 1000 dollar cost. And being in a foreign country left me completely helpless. This was a big burden, and little things started happening that same weekend. I finally hit culture shock. I finally broke down from missing people back home. It's in those times that I need someone to lean on that I realize no one is here. So I had a one day pity party. How easy it is to forget God's faithfulness when we're at our lowest points. When we need to trust Him most. I found out two days later that my Josh's roommate, Hartsell, had bought another computer two weeks ago, and in return Josh bought his old one off of him for super cheap only a few days before mine crashed(because, as a lot of you already know, my computer was already pretty jank before coming here). It was supposed to be a Christmas gift but guess I get that one a little early :-) It also worked out that our leader had to go back to the states for work last Sunday, so he was able to take my crashed computer home and return with a new one. Hartsell was able to transfer all of my files and pictures. God is good. Even when I forget it. And that happens all too often. He paves the way for us to get through rough situations.
Since then, this week has been truly wonderful! We've really deepened the relationships with our two brothers. On Monday, Amy and I made the infamous Dominican dessert avichuelas con dulce (sweet beans) with Alberto (our 30yr old brother). It was kind of a relief to hang out with someone more our age because our best friends are a 12 year old and a 5 year old. The dessert wasn't great. Anything that involves mixing blended beans, water, milk, brown sugar, raisins, and euka (a Dominican vegetable) is not too appetizing. But the company was great. We found out that the family had recently lost the youngest son in a drunk driving accident just 3 years ago. Alberto told us that our youngest brother Marcos hasn't talked a whole lot since then. Family means so much to the people here. Our sister lives in the house behind us, Alberto just built a house a few minutes away, and Marcos lives in a sweet treehouse above our family shop. I've found that the best way to get to know people is through cooking and eating. So we've been doing a lot of that recently. Last night, we had 2 friends from our group over to spend the night and we spent the whole day with Marcos (28yrs old). And he was so talkative! We learned that his favorite movie is Titanic and anything else romantic. So THAT's the movies we hear late at night all the way from his treehouse. It's so great to see people warming up to us and treating us like family. I feel like I've truly gained a mother, father, sister, brothers, grandma, and such close friends. They're going to have to drag me onto that plane come December.
Every Saturday, we go on excursions. Some are more hardcore than others. Today was beyond words...
"I thought I was going to die multiple times!" -Eric Miller last year in chapel reflecting on this excursion.
He was lying, I thought.
"I know some realy tough outdoors-ey guys that go white water rafting and kayaking all the time on super dangerous rivers. When I told them we did this excursion, they couldn't believe it and proceded to swear that we were competely crazy" -Our leader, Ryan
They must be thinking of another river, I thought. They wouldn't really risk our lives. We had a choice to go or not. Why not? I stepped up and wrote my name under the 'yes' column.
"Okay, you guys that signed up are going to have to sign a couple waivers here. I made another one, and made sure I added the phrase 'in case of death' after last year's experience. No promises" -Our leader, Josh
Those things are always overrated, I thought.
I was wrong. We arrived at the tour place today, and once we were all suited up in our wet suits, life vests, and helmets, I knew that they were serious.
We went tubing today down a river. And by tubing I mean a small rubber tire with no handles. And by river I mean mighty rushing rapids with jagged boulders poking up and hidden beneath the brown-green water. We had the choice of starting in 2 different places, and of course, feeling invincible and ready for the challenge, we leaped at the opportunity to take on the route with bigger and stronger rapids further upstream. Each cascade around a rock or down a fall sent you hurling from your tube and tossling around in the rapids gasping for air and trying with all your might to survive the next hit. The first rapids I went down on my back, head first, not able to see the boulders charging towards me. The second round, I flipped from my tube and ended up going head first on my stomach. I'm not sure seeing the boulders come was much better. Only more frantic. In an effort to protect my face and while flailing my arms to stay above water, my stomach took the hits of the harsh rocks, piercing into my vital organs. The third rapids wasn't rocky, but lucky me got hurled into a water cyclone that sucked me under and spit me out 15 feet down the river. The intermittent breaks were used for catching a breath and remounting my tube which was usually 20 feet away, without being swept away by the inevitable current. My roommte thought she broke her leg, but turns out it was just badly bruised. One girl can't use her ankle. I'm pretty sure I have internal bleeding. And another girl got stuck on a log in the middle of the worst rapid with pounds and pounds of water pressure cascading over her every second. I think got run over by other people in our group at least 3 times. She was stuck there for a good 20 minutes with guides throwing her ropes and when she made it through literally had no energy to lift a hand. I actually stayed on my tube for this rapid, which was the worst of it. But after this, half of us were too injured to go on, so we exited the river and took a 40 minute walk back to the tour place, each with a limp favoring a different part of our body.
Overall, it was a terrifying experience, but I'm almost glad I did it, just for the story and battle wounds. I thought I was going to die multiple times, but I'm proud of us for braving the storm and facing it head on. To me, we came out like champions. What a day.
From computer crashes to bean desserts to surviving a near death experience, this week has been packed with exciting things. And through it all, I know that God is so good for every experience we have been given in this beautiful country.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
pobre gatito
It seems like this is becoming my normal life now. Before, I had to reconvince myself every day that I was still in fact here in this different world. I’ve started waking up and actually expecting everything to be in Spanish. It’s gotten a little easier, but progress is hard to see when you experience it every step of the way. But others assure me that my Spanish has gotten better which is encouraging. Classes are going well. I have about 3 hours of homework every night, but it’s not hard to get done because this is my only obligation. The struggle for me is to balance my time between homework and spending time in relationship with my family.
The culture here is incredible. If ever anyone needs something, a helping hand is outstretched. Since we are part of the Pentecostal church that my mom pastors, every member considers us part of their family. Also, the community here is a small town feel. Everyone knows everyone. Already, almost everywhere I go I am greeted by a familiar face. While walking alongside the road, we get multiple offers for rides. It is not uncommon to see a family of four on one “moto” (a dirt bike equivalent that is very prevalent here), while America is teeming with SUVs each carrying only one person. Here people make to-do lists for the day, but as soon as another person, unannounced, interrupts the planned course of events and stops by to say hi, Dominicans are quick to drop whatever they are doing and just spend time in the present in community with others. In America, we are driven to cross off every last line of that list and will neglect relationships in order to do so. While my parents and Amy and I are the only people that actually live at our house, there are always at least 8 people here at any given time. Work takes on a whole different meaning here. At least with the people from church that I have encountered, work is for God. There are currently at least 4 different men who gave up their vocations for weeks in order to build an addition onto our church. Even if it means taking a cut in wages for a long period of time, they will do God’s work first with no pay. It is this selfless attitude that keeps the community strong. Another student in our group told me that a few days ago she and a friend were walking down the street when they saw a woman sitting on her porch eating dinner. As soon as the woman saw them, she immediately called out to them to come up and have some food. She proceeded to hand over her fork to literally share her dinner off her very own plate. This is the Dominican Republic. This is loving your neighbor, even the neighbor of a different skin color whom you have never met. I don’t even know who my neighbors are back home. We live in different worlds. Here, your neighbor is as good as your own blood. Truly the people here understand God’s sacred idea of living in community with one another. Experiencing this culture is making me think a lot about how I want to live within American society but not as American society lives.
I know stories are always fun to hear. If you do not have a strong stomach, stop reading now. Maybe someone can explain to me how this is possible upon my return, but it’s really gotten me thinking about biology. We have lots of animals here, our favorite of which is a tiny gatito (kitten) of only 6 months. Amy and I named her Stella, and every night while we sat and did our Spanish homework we would end up captivated by little Stella four hours on end. Sad story. Saturday morning, our brother was backing his jeep out of the driveway, and failed to look both ways. Our poor Stella got completely run over by the tire. Anyone who heard this would automatically think that she had died on the spot, but on the contrary, she lived through the tragedy! Amy and I had not known that all of this had happened and didn’t see her until Sunday morning. She slowly crept out from behind the refrigerator while we were eating breakfast and we soon learned what had happened. This is the best physical description of our cat that I can give: Her body is one inch thick now from the tire passing over her entirely, with the exception of her potbelly that drags the ground where all of her organs were squished down into a giant tangled up mass. Her knees on her back legs are inverted. And the worst of it is that most of her intestines were squished out in the whole process and are still either laying on the ground in the driveway or are still hanging behind giving her the illusion of having two tails. Amy and I were sure she would die within a few days at the longest, but somehow she’s a fighter and can still walk and eat as normal. We told our family to finish her off because she was suffering and every single one of them merely assured us that she will live, for didn’t you know cats have 7 lives?! At first I argued with them and thought they were all out of their minds, but this is day 4 ½ now and it is the first time I find myself actually believing that somehow cats do have an uncanny ability to live through hopeless circumstances. Across cultures, cats are said to have more than one life, though the number differs. The question is how was this rumor started and how did it travel from country to country even across seas? If anyone knows, please enlighten me.
In other news, we found a spider the size of my fist in our shower yesterday and a chicken in it today. That was a new experience. I’ll keep you posted with other forms of wildlife that happen to wander in there in the future.
That’s all for now. Keep praying for our group. We’ve had a few people sick from parasites already so pray for health. And pray for us to continue to deepen relationships with the people in this beautiful country.
Hasta pronto!
The culture here is incredible. If ever anyone needs something, a helping hand is outstretched. Since we are part of the Pentecostal church that my mom pastors, every member considers us part of their family. Also, the community here is a small town feel. Everyone knows everyone. Already, almost everywhere I go I am greeted by a familiar face. While walking alongside the road, we get multiple offers for rides. It is not uncommon to see a family of four on one “moto” (a dirt bike equivalent that is very prevalent here), while America is teeming with SUVs each carrying only one person. Here people make to-do lists for the day, but as soon as another person, unannounced, interrupts the planned course of events and stops by to say hi, Dominicans are quick to drop whatever they are doing and just spend time in the present in community with others. In America, we are driven to cross off every last line of that list and will neglect relationships in order to do so. While my parents and Amy and I are the only people that actually live at our house, there are always at least 8 people here at any given time. Work takes on a whole different meaning here. At least with the people from church that I have encountered, work is for God. There are currently at least 4 different men who gave up their vocations for weeks in order to build an addition onto our church. Even if it means taking a cut in wages for a long period of time, they will do God’s work first with no pay. It is this selfless attitude that keeps the community strong. Another student in our group told me that a few days ago she and a friend were walking down the street when they saw a woman sitting on her porch eating dinner. As soon as the woman saw them, she immediately called out to them to come up and have some food. She proceeded to hand over her fork to literally share her dinner off her very own plate. This is the Dominican Republic. This is loving your neighbor, even the neighbor of a different skin color whom you have never met. I don’t even know who my neighbors are back home. We live in different worlds. Here, your neighbor is as good as your own blood. Truly the people here understand God’s sacred idea of living in community with one another. Experiencing this culture is making me think a lot about how I want to live within American society but not as American society lives.
I know stories are always fun to hear. If you do not have a strong stomach, stop reading now. Maybe someone can explain to me how this is possible upon my return, but it’s really gotten me thinking about biology. We have lots of animals here, our favorite of which is a tiny gatito (kitten) of only 6 months. Amy and I named her Stella, and every night while we sat and did our Spanish homework we would end up captivated by little Stella four hours on end. Sad story. Saturday morning, our brother was backing his jeep out of the driveway, and failed to look both ways. Our poor Stella got completely run over by the tire. Anyone who heard this would automatically think that she had died on the spot, but on the contrary, she lived through the tragedy! Amy and I had not known that all of this had happened and didn’t see her until Sunday morning. She slowly crept out from behind the refrigerator while we were eating breakfast and we soon learned what had happened. This is the best physical description of our cat that I can give: Her body is one inch thick now from the tire passing over her entirely, with the exception of her potbelly that drags the ground where all of her organs were squished down into a giant tangled up mass. Her knees on her back legs are inverted. And the worst of it is that most of her intestines were squished out in the whole process and are still either laying on the ground in the driveway or are still hanging behind giving her the illusion of having two tails. Amy and I were sure she would die within a few days at the longest, but somehow she’s a fighter and can still walk and eat as normal. We told our family to finish her off because she was suffering and every single one of them merely assured us that she will live, for didn’t you know cats have 7 lives?! At first I argued with them and thought they were all out of their minds, but this is day 4 ½ now and it is the first time I find myself actually believing that somehow cats do have an uncanny ability to live through hopeless circumstances. Across cultures, cats are said to have more than one life, though the number differs. The question is how was this rumor started and how did it travel from country to country even across seas? If anyone knows, please enlighten me.
In other news, we found a spider the size of my fist in our shower yesterday and a chicken in it today. That was a new experience. I’ll keep you posted with other forms of wildlife that happen to wander in there in the future.
That’s all for now. Keep praying for our group. We’ve had a few people sick from parasites already so pray for health. And pray for us to continue to deepen relationships with the people in this beautiful country.
Hasta pronto!
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