Two chickens scrounging anxiously for something to fill their stomachs, pecking their way along the dirt road and through the garbage piles; a round little boy with a lollipop in his mouth- walking, though with no sense of urgency; distorted Bachata music drowning out, in an almost surreal way, all the sounds that one would otherwise expect to hear; two young men lounging in plastic chairs enjoying an afternoon game of checkers- using bottle caps atop a thin piece of wood, with squares sketched roughly in pencil; a beautiful young girl twirling nearby is her stunning white Sunday dress, contrasting with the unimpressive, worn, dirt-stained clothes of her friends; mopeds bouncing and creaking, converging and weaving amid a multitude of rainbow-like houses, which, despite all the bars and barbed wire and ominous tapestries of power lines overhead, are welcoming with a warmth that mirrors the surrounding climate. Maria Auxiliadora is a strange, yet wonderful place. And here I am: standing at the intersection, my feet placed awkwardly between two mud puddles- remnants of a wild storm- flossing my teeth and asking my brother Dudo if I can borrow his shirt.

This is life. My life, yes, but more importantly our life. All these events are passing and we’re sharing in them together, as a community, in what is a wondrous and redemptive and breathtakingly mysterious journey, when one stops to consider it. I often try to ponder what God may be doing through it all, but of course it is far too grand for any one of us to understand. That’s part of the beauty- it’s collective and as inextricable as the countless spliced cords overhead. If we’re the cords then I suppose Jesus is the central transformer, holding everything together and making it coherent. We find our meaning in him.

Ordinary things, simple things- things that may even be deemed insignificant- are somehow brought together in Jesus. Observing two girls swinging back and forth on a tire filled with cement, hands grasping the pole, rocking back and forth and laughing, eyes fixed on one another’s faces; sharing dinner with my friends Tracy and Darin, talking and laughing and enjoying the atmosphere for hours; dancing on a smooth floor at Hector’s angelito party, spinning and shuffling and bumping elbows and enjoying the freedom- twenty of us, squished like sardines, in the living room, singing along to the romantic music.

Rob Bell puts it like this in his book Velvet Elvis: “What I find fascinating is how many of us have had moments like these when we were overwhelmed with the presence of something or somebody so- and it is hard to find words here- so good, so right, so true, so safe.

“Warmth, comfort, terror- but the good kind of terror. Maybe we should say ‘awe’. You have your own ways of describing these moments…Ordinary moments in ordinary settings that all of a sudden become infused with something else. With meaning. Significance. Hope…

“I assume you have had moments like this when you were caught up in something so much bigger than yourself that you couldn’t even put it in words. What is it about certain things that ignite something within? And is that something actually someone?

“Whatever those things are that make you feel fully alive and like the universe is ultimately a good place and you are not alone, I need a faith that doesn’t deny these moments but embraces them. I need spiritual understanding that celebrates these kinds of transcendent moments instead of avoiding them. These moments can’t be tangents. They can’t be experiences that distract from ‘real’ faith. These moments can’t exist on the edges, because they are a part of our faith. A spirituality that is real will have to make sense of them and show us how they fit. They are expressions of what it means to live in God’s world.

So all these blessed, holy, kingdom revealing moments- combined with the unavoidable tension caused by unjust, brutal, painful moments- collide to bear testimony to a big savior who is healing a deep problem. We’re not there yet, but I give thanks to God for how the beauty of his redemption is revealed in countless ways in this place. Heaven is shining forth even now- the light piercing the darkness- epitomized in the Son. “The reality,” Paul writes, “is found in Christ.”

Before I came down my psychologist promised me that the reality of poverty would ‘hit me’. Well, I feel like it has hit me in waves, crashing upon me as I continue to become more aware of the real injustices that the people of Maria Auxiliadora face.

When one first walks into the barrio it seems like such a colorful, lively place with so much up-beat music and happiness; the satisfied and worry-free attitude is almost contagious. During the first week it is more or less surreal- the place is such a tight-knit, hospitable, beautiful community. Who would not want to move in and live there for a while? Now I’m not saying that all these positive aspects aren’t true, but if that is the only picture one has of the barrio, it is certainly an incomplete one.

About a week ago now, I was feeling broken and nearly depressed after uncovering the physically abusive home situation of one of my close friends. I felt frustrated and furious- who was going to take a stand for justice? I did not want to tolerate it. I spoke with Joy about what initiatives are being taken to reverse the cycle of oppression and violence. Our conversation ended with a sense of hopelessness and the dissatisfying conclusion that we are only a few foreigners in a seemingly unalterable culture of intrinsic destruction. I then got thinking about how the situation here in the Dominican Republic is only the tip of the iceberg when one looks at things on a world scale.

I spent the afternoon in prayer, encountering some key truths found in scripture. The first passage I came upon was in Isaiah chapter 62:

“You who call on the LORD, give yourselves no rest,

and give him no rest till he establishes Jerusalem
and makes her the praise of the earth.”

It felt liberated, having come across a command that we should be very concerned about all the pain in this world, constantly coming before our Almighty Father in our distress and even in our anger, that we might find comfort in his wisdom. The Bible calls us to be passionate about the redemption of creation, joining with God and his loving purposes to wipe away every last tear from every human face in existence.

The other passages I found right at the heart of the gospel. John 19 says: “Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged. The soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head. They clothed him in a purple robe and went up to him again and again, saying, ‘Hail, king of the Jews!’ And they struck him in the face.” Jesus witnessed such brutal suffering in order to eventually end all suffering forever. If there has ever been a cause for outrage, this is it: the most innocent man who has ever lived being struck mercilessly- enduring agony, though he did nothing to deserve it. He did it for us, so that we could one day be freed completely from all pain. That is moving…moving beyond words.

The second verse reinforces the picture: “When they came to the place called the Skull, there they crucified him, along with the criminals—one on his right, the other on his left. Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing. And they divided up his clothes by casting lots.” To those who killed him, Jesus showed the most incredible love, willing that their sins be forgotten and that they be reunited with their Creator.

Now, these verses provide a powerful basis for realizing and feeling the evil of this world without being destroyed by it. Jesus’ crucifixion is a real and radical declaration that God loves us and means to deal with our problem, no matter what the cost. ‘Hell is worth it,’ sounds the cry of the cross, ‘if you and I can be together!’ It gives me radical determination, radical rest and radical hope. It’s all about the glory, the significance- the weightiness of Jesus. He deserves more praise than the universe can give.

Where to start? It feels to me as though this has been a week of unprecedented activity: relationally, physically, mentally and spiritually. It has been almost too much to bear- in fact at the moment I feel really burned out, like I’ve been trying to do too much. Nevertheless, God’s grace has been flowing in unexpected ways, even in the midst of the ruckus. It has been utterly undeserved (I suppose, in the end, that is what grace is).

I feel like many of my closest friends are catching a sort of gospel fever; a real desire to be disciples. It has been awesome to share in this growth and at the same time praise the Lord of the harvest, who is making it all happen. On Saturday, my buddy Marcos was sharing on how he believes in God simply because his reason tells him it must be true. He spoke of the fragile equilibrium of our bodies, the atmosphere, the position of the moon, etc.- insisting that these point to something so purposeful that it quite likely transcends the universe altogether. Our current state does not explain itself; one must look furiously above and beyond mere physical realties to encounter their Source.

He added that believing in the unseen is not such a ridiculous notion after all, referring to the forces of wind and gravity, whose effects can be seen, though they remain quite invisible. The same goes for God: the evidence of his existence can be seen everywhere- all the harmonious orbiting and rotating of massive bodies in space, sustaining one another, in the coming and passing of seasons, the rising and setting of the sun, the stars coming into view and disappearing anew. I was reminded of the place here G.K. Chesterton states, in his book Orthodoxy: “There was something personal in the world, as in a work of art; whatever it meant it meant violently.”

When God is part of the discussion, it can be felt. That afternoon I walked home feeling quite enlightened and overjoyed. To see such faith and desire to chase after the truth is beautiful thing. My prayer is that these friends of mine, as well as my family, will continue to walk in the paths of God, letting him lead them out into open spaces of freedom. I love the way this is expressed in Proverbs:

“The path of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn
Shining ever brighter till the full light of day.”

After loading some music creation, editing and recording software onto my computer- as well as buying a microphone- I have become a sort of amateur DJ down here. My friends and I have been making beats and putting together some loops, samples, even some full rap songs. I really enjoy it; it’s been a time of learning and explosive musical creativity. That’s the only way I can explain it. My friends have been bringing some Christ-centered messages into the mix. They keep encouraging me lay down some rhymes in Spanish, so I’ll have to try to translate and memorize some of what I’ve written, making it coherent and understandable to those around me.

Hip hop is an incredibly popular form of music down here. Every young guy dreams of being a ‘Rapero’ or rapper, so it has been fun to walk alongside so many youth and support them in their dreams. Everyone in the community also looks up to guys like Fe and Bertico, who are recording professional albums, doing concerts in Maria Auxiliadora and other barrios, and bringing some intelligent, edifying lyrics into the world of rap. I can often hear my aspiring neighbors playing instrumentals next door and practicing coordinating their verses and choruses and all that.

But yeah, it’s been all about God and I praise him for that. One thing I aim to do is set aside more time and devote myself to him, because spiritually it is so essential and- really- the only reason I was created was to grow into the eternal kind of life that God offers, enjoying him and glorifying him forever. As I move forward in being a disciple I want to do whatever is necessary to actually put into practice what Jesus, the Master, said was best.

It’s easy to get caught up trying to do too many things, especially when those around you regard you as a sort of pseudo-savior, asking you constantly for favors or to borrow things or to help them with this or that. Maybe they want to learn English, or want some photos printed, or want to borrow my MP3, or don’t have enough food, or need some money to repair their house, or want you to paint them something- any range of things that they constantly look to Americans to help them with. I want to move past all that, though, and lead those around me to Jesus. He is the one they really need.

As I look out my window right now, I can see something that the people here call ‘Agua Sanjuanera.’ I wonder if you can guess what it is... It’s when the rain and the sunshine combine; cloudy in one spot and clear blue nearby. We walked outside to enjoy it for a while- arms outstretched and mouths open- relishing the wondrous moment. It was so wonderfully warm and refreshing; like drops of heaven hitting my face. I will never forget it. It is just one small way in which the Lord has truly blessed my time here.

The extent to which I have ‘found my element’ here has been nothing short of incredible. I guess I have had trouble getting over the conceptions that a foreigner could be so much a part of this community. Certainly it has been a long process, and definitely God-guided, for which I am thankful.

I offer several reasons: One is the warm, social culture and environment that makes one feel comfortable and welcome. I have a great family in which I feel free to be myself; I could even say that I’ve encountered a neighborhood in which I feel this way. At home, it may be possible to go years without even knowing or speaking with one’s neighbor. But here that is literally impossible. For one thing, you’re in such close vicinity and there’s such little noise-blockage that you inevitably hear much of what’s going on in the house next to you. This often encourages house-to-house singing and joking, mingling with the afternoon heat and multitude of music. Secondly, neighbors rely on one another to such a deep extent that you can enter any given house at any given time and are likely to find two or three visitors. It is a colorful, thought-provoking atmosphere that encourages and fosters growth in discipleship.

Now, before I go any further, do not suppose I am bashing Canada. I’m not. Believe me, there are times when I wish I could warp back home for a while and have all the comforts and familiar food, language and tranquility that I have always enjoyed. But despite that I do honestly feel I have found a second home. It would be a lie to say that my personality here is not different; I doubt it could have remained the same in a culture such as this.

The vicinity is definitely a big factor. Having so many people so close means I can walk down the street and check if ‘so-and-so’ is in their house. If not, I can continue walking and encounter ‘fulano’ lounging on their patio. We may sit and drink coffee for a while, catching up on life and perhaps going deeper, after which there is still time to visit one or two other friends in the same afternoon.

Vendors swerve by in vans, announcing ‘milk, milk, milk!’ to the whole world. If people pass our house at lunch time, Antonio (the father) will shout: ‘you get in here and eat some stew!’, or whatever we happen to be eating that afternoon. ‘Food is good and important and you simply have to enjoy it; now come and sit down and munch with me!’ That is how central sharing the experience of eating together is to Dominicans. If you’re lucky you may even catch me singing along to ranchero music and evoking laughter, while Antonio contentedly patters away at a broken pair of sandals, joining in the joyous harmony.

As I sat out on my patio the other day, relaxing, observing all the people passing by and children playing in the streets, I was forced to really reflect on what it is like to live in the slum. Here I am: the barrio man, living in the ghetto- and, believe it or not, I enjoy it! Somehow the tremendous sacrifices I’ve made do not even seem worth comparing to the wondrous mysteries of God I have encountered. His kingdom shines among the poor and thrives in centers of destitution.

It feels liberating to have an understanding of the language and culture- to be able to interact and be accepted into this new world where snow is unheard-of and people see life in a very unique way; a filter of perception that drives their actions. In their poverty the people have formed close and crucial bonds; now I am a part of that. I know and am known by countless people, all of them very special to me. I say I love it here, but I am certain there are few who feel that way. A tension exists: many want to escape.

I have often wondered what it would feel like to grow up here. Doubtless one would be mistreated- perhaps by parents- but definitely by those around them. It is common to hear mocking and insults, or to see young ones running out of their house screaming and crying. Gossip is a common weapon as well, destroying the trust and confidence of many.

The influences of pop culture, especially from the United States, are incredible. Girls feel they ought to be sexy and slim. They regard their bodies as mere objects- though this is no surprise: every man in their life has been asserting, from very early on, that this is so. Due to injustice and lack of opportunity, girls feel that their body is their greatest asset; they dance and flaunt themselves in hopes of attracting men, in order to get married and secure a future- ideally to move up the social ladder. Yet time after time they attract the wrong ones- abusive ones. This almost inevitably leads to bitterness and cynicism towards men in general.

Boys are taught to be tough and assertive; to show little emotion at the realities of life and to command respect, violently if necessary. This, in combination with the image embodied in rappers like 50 Cent, Daddy Yankee and El Lapiz has led to hardness and near disdain of the opposite sex. They want to be thugs- to be feared, cool and adored by the ladies. They get into drugs as a way to forget about the pains of the world, or to gain money. Of course, I am here depicting the negative extreme, but nonetheless it is all too common.

In the entire barrio there is a sense, I feel, of helplessness. America, or the American lifestyle, is looked at as heavenly, and everyone feels dumbfounded as to how to achieve it. I try to explain, where possible, that these desires are almost entirely contradictory to true fulfillment, but it’s hard to convince. Dominicans have it in their minds that the U.S. is some sort of utopia, worth hoping for, even if they hope in vain. Opportunities to advance socially are financially are almost non-existent; being born in the barrio simply means that you are hundreds of times less likely to ‘make it’.

Thus, people hang out on street corners or in Colmados with little to do. They play all sorts of games for hours and hours: checkers, chess, soccer, basketball, dominoes, baseball and marbles are among the most popular. Kids guide tires down the street all afternoon, or play with any object they can get their hands on. People look also to dancing and music; an opportunity to forget and simply enjoy the moment, many call it. Though this often involves alcohol and the movements are, well, sexual. During their afternoons, many sit down and become entranced by idealistic soap operas on TV that idolize romance. Girls dream that some wonderful man will sweep them off their feet and take them away to perfection.

There is only one such man to be found: his name is Jesus Christ. But here, perhaps, is the greatest barrier that exists. Catholicism has turned him into an abstract and far-off concept. He is certainly seen as the Alpha and the Omega- the one who will judge between the goats and the sheep- but not as a personal friend who invites you to follow him in your daily life. People live under fear that they must live a morally faultless life to please him, and everyone is certain they will face many years in purgatory before they are ‘worthy’ to enter paradise. The cross has lost almost all relevance to reality; many remain slaves to religion. God is introduced as the one who likes you if you do this and doesn’t like you if you do that. If you’re good, he’ll let you into heaven; if you’re bad, he’ll send you to hell. Who would want to know or even believe in such a deity?

It comes as no surprise, then, that in a country where 96% are professing Catholics, evil and injustice run rampant. The system is perfectly designed to provide such results. People are being turned away from God.

So I’ve painted a pretty dark picture so far. Let me proceed to introduce the light that drowns it all out in unstoppable glory. As C.S. Lewis puts it: “Our Great Captain has opened a gap in the pitiless walls of this world and bids us come through.” No shadow can keep out God’s Trinitarian dance of love and glory forever. The party’s on its way. We are receiving an unshakable kingdom; one where disease, poverty, injustice, sin and death will be completely done away with. Jesus is making all things new; we shall soon shine in such a brilliant community that all our sufferings will be to our glory. Shalom- the way things ought to be: the webbing together of God, humans and all creation in equity, fulfillment and delight; universal flourishing, wholeness, a rich state of affairs in which natural needs are satisfied and natural gifts are fruitfully employed all under the arch of God’s love. That’s what’s going on.

As for me, I live to demonstrate this hope through my words and actions, guiding people into harmony with their Savior and with one another, through the power of gospel and God’s grace. It has been an adventure of reconciliation so far, and I rejoice in the Lord.

It has been raining almost constantly for the last four days, so I have spent a lot of time in the house. No one went to work today- the streets were flowing with water, children splashing and having races down the gutters with GI Joe toys in makeshift boats- styrofoam trays or the bottoms of used milk jugs. It is finally cool here in the barrio, and sleep comes easily.

We just finished saying goodbye to a medical team from Puerto Rico. They ran a clinic in the El Camino Church/ TEARS School for three days, serving countless people and bringing hope to families. It was really a blessing; I was encouraged to see their Christ-like love and compassion for those they attended to. I always find it difficult to part with short term teams- just as you begin building relationships, it’s time to go.

I seem to have fallen into a very troublesome and sad story here in Dudo’s house. There is a lot of sorrow and silent desperation that is not at first apparent when you walk in the front door. Dominicans value being social, hospitable and happy so much that they have learned to hide their true emotions quite well. Amparo, one of Dudo’s sisters, has been deeply hurt and disappointed in her life. At age thirty she has been married to six men- one of whom has now passed away- and has six children, none of whom she is currently caring for, due partly to financial difficulties and partly to a profound lack of pity- doubtless the result of an abusive upbringing. Perhaps she constantly heard things like: “you’re a mistake” or “you have no potential” or “you’re too ignorant to learn”, because this is what she now says to her own children, four of whom live with me.

Amparo paid us a visit for a few days, and it was difficult to witness the tension it caused everyone in the family. She is uneducated, and for this reason has next to no job opportunities. For a while was trying to sell balls of yucca, but she was cheated several times by various managers. She now works in the street, selling her body, and gets taken advantage of in a much more terrible ways. Her main concern is money- you may say she has made it her god. She is constantly talking about who didn’t pay her and how much certain things cost and how she won’t be able to pay for this and how essential and central money is to joy and fulfillment. Yet it is heart-breaking to see where this has taken her. I felt tears well up in my eyes as I saw her carefully putting on makeup one night, preparing to go out into the streets. I wish I could just give her enough financial support to go back to college, but that is a very Canadian reaction. The real situation is much more complex than that; only Jesus knows the degree to which this must be true.

Such hurt has brought Amparo to a place of bitterness and contempt. She often says: “there is no such thing as real love” and “all men are liars.” I suppose such phrases are common enough, but she says them with a cynicism and assurance that would be hard to match. I feel great compassion for her children, who have been negatively impacted by all this- almost irretrievably so, I am afraid. Yet with God, all things are possible. It is my prayer that he will bring restoration to this family. I ask that you make this your prayer as well.

God is good.
He has brought me here with great purpose and redeeming love. I have reached near-fluency in Spanish and can easily understand and share with everyone around me. The language has such different sounds and expressions, and I am sure, having learned in this community of Maria Auxiliadora, that I have developed a distinct personality and cultural identity in this new atmosphere.

I myself have come into a new harmony with God and, accordingly, with the people in the neighborhood. For all this I consider myself blessed among the blessed. Growth in faith, sustenance by grace, intimacy with my savior, embracing fresh and beautiful realities: these have marked my trip and will remain written on my heart in the years to come.

On Friday I was enjoying supper with Tracy and Travis. I mentioned that I can now relate to how she has trouble with the Myers Briggs test. The thing is: trans-cultural missionaries enter into a new church, a new family and a new circle of friends, who define them and understand them in different ways. For this reason, they acquire a new concept of self, significance and belonging that causes them to act and react in different ways, as relevant to God’s Kingdom but also as it relates to the dominant worldview of the country. For example, I would consider myself strongly introverted, but here I have discovered an extroverted side.

Tracy was excited, adding that this is a good empirical result of the Bonding Method, which TEARS encouraged me to use. The idea is that you dive in and live with the people the way they do, learn the language and get involved in the culture, growing to depend on a core family and develop a sense of acceptance. I added that I could be the new TEARS poster boy, like Subway’s Jared, but with a bowl full of rice and beans.

I received a new camera recently, and I have been tearing it up photo-wise. Travis and I, along with about a dozen youth from the barrio, visited an awesome spot in the river valley near Guai-Gui, enjoying the water and heaving rocks to try and impede the current (this seems to be a popular guy activity). Everyone was jumping off rocks and pulling all kinds of stunts- it was a good time.

This journey has been a walk of faith: every day I find myself at a new place on the path, impacting the hearts of new friends, or stumbling upon the unlikeliest of stories, with God’s guiding hand of grace beneath it all.

Rocktober: this month has been about making God my Rock. He is the firmest foundation that one will ever encounter; he's worth building one's life around. He's like a great stone in the middle of the desert; like a spring in the center of a spiritual wilderness. The LORD has been testing me, wrestling with me and bombarding me with revelations, which in turn- day by day- are helping me to live like this is true; to make him my God above all Gods.

I am currently enjoying some time away on the coast, recharging and preparing for the journey ahead. During these days I have experienced sublime peace, and a satisfaction that I didn't know was possible. Certainly the beach has something to do with it- it's a beautiful place- but more centrally is that I have spent days with my mind in God's wonders, grace and glory; being still and knowing that he is my LORD, firm and supreme. The more God becomes the fundamental center of my heart- of who I am- the more wonderfully different my existence will be. The fact that I have the deepest desire of my soul- right now- is a radical dynamic for discipleship. I in turn become unshakable, reflecting my Father.

Yesterday, as I sat on the beach chair, contemplating, I sensed God speaking to me. It's kind of like this: when the sun hits you, you don't need proof that it's bright and hot- you know. Same applies here: these thoughts were not my own. "I call out to you over the waters: come to me. I've made a way across for you, now you must walk forward." What a call to discipleship this was! Running the race and fixing my eyes on Jesus! I proceeded to sing a song I've learned in Spanish, that says:

There is a song in my heart
That demonstrates my passion
For my king and my Lord
For the one who loved me
You are beautiful, my Lord
You are beautiful, my Love
You are the source of my life
And the one my heart yearns for.

I have come to a conclusion: One must not live life in fear of being hurt. One must find an unshakable truth that transcends the pains of this world- and proceed to dive in. There will be no avoiding the troubles and trials of reality, but it is possible to prevail over them. The security that Christ gives us is greater than our circumstances. Not only is he the courageous God who overcame fear and sorrow- he is the way to overcome fear and sorrow, for each and every one of us.

This feeling was brought on by a number of things, I imagine. I had sunk into a strange mixture of complacency and frustration. One the one hand, I saw little use in persistently spreading the news of God’s Kingdom, having faced a lot of obstinacy during my time here. One the other hand, I had an irrepressible desire to burst forth from this ‘quiet desperation’ and be a hero.

I scanned back through my reflections on the book of Hebrews, which I have been studying, and found in them a radical invitation to engage in all the difficulties of life, with Jesus at the center of it. There was at once the striking reality of suffering and the amazing truth that Jesus will guide us through it. This has encouraged me to take up the journey with fresh vigor. It promises to be an adventure indeed.

Allow me to once again insist on the uniqueness of this place. There are brightly painted barber shops with names like “The Lord is my Shepherd”, walls of the brightest hue that shout “Jesus is the Lord and King of La Vega and of the world.” There are old men riding bikes with Arizona Cardinals ball caps, people selling fuel in pop bottles right on the edge of the street, from under a canopy of shade. There is a myriad of music, songs fading endlessly in and out of hearing as one walks along. And here I am: smack dab in the middle of it, with a calling from God and a bright orange water bottle.

I do feel I have found my element here, though, at least to an extent. I am deep in the Word, full of things to write about or draw or paint or sing about or simply rejoice over. My challenge has always been to step out of this wonderful introspective world and make things real: to commune, to share, and to experience. Pray that God would equip me with the courage to follow him faithfully, wherever it leads; to become a dynamic part of his kingdom, forgetting fears and embracing freedom.

This week I want to do something sort of unique, but I think it will give you a picture of what life is like for me in Maria Auxiliadora. A day in the barrio:

I awake to the blast of the radio- Spanish voices announcing hurriedly what must be something very important- hard to say. Here, people will go overboard when expressing something or
telling a story. The annoucements and news and music and commercials all begin to blend in with my dreams. I am finally roused by the noise of the telephone and the smell of eggs cooking.
I roll lazily off my matress, slipping into my flip-flops and splashing some water from my face using a cup and a bucket. A refreshing way to wake oneself, I have found.

'Deri,' calls Maria (for this is how she pronounces my name), 'Ven a desayunar.' Come eat breakfast. I sit down in an upright wooden chair, resting my elbows wearily on the table, and begin to enjoy the bread and cheese set out for me in a bowl. Nearby is a glass full orange juice- well, it's more like Tang really. This is my typical meal.

Next: off to school, passing the bright pink corner store, lugging my black backpack with my laptop and work materials, greeting my neighbors. The sun beats down even at this time of day, so I try to stick to the shade- if only for a minute. The street is rocky and it is important to watch one's step; I'm amazed more women don't roll their ankles here- especially since
many wear platforms or heels.

Entering the main hallway is like passing into a different environment. It is cool, somewhat dark, and echoing with the voices of children in their classes. My office is at the very end, so I normally get a chance to say good morning to all the teachers, giving a customary kiss on the cheek- a display of friendship. The rest of my day is spent at the computer, working on writing up stories, web updates, managing photos, troubleshooting internet problems or whatever
needs to be done. Every so often I will get up and help with various tasks around the school: carrying water or gas tanks, moving furniture, decorating classrooms, cleaning, organizing, etc. In this way, my current position is really journalist/ support staff.

Mornings tend to fly by and before long it is time for lunch. Now the second meal of the day is much more of a communal experience. Often the tv will be tuned to comedy or soap operas, nine or ten of us spread between the dining table, patio chairs, and the floor. Antonio, animated as he is, will excitedly invite me to sit down and share, tossing some more avocado into my rice bowl with a boyish grin. He's nearly sixty but his spirit is as vital as any youth.

He enjoys entertaining people, I think, for he will often call everyone to attention so they can watch him shovel an enormous spoonful of food into his mouth, closing his eyes in satisfaction, beans dribbling down his chin. Attention! Check this out! Observe! Look! See! he will happily shout, in any particular order, placing a cap on his head and causing it to nod with the movement of his eyebrows. This will evoke laughter from nearly everbody in the room. Timeless.Helen tends to juggle eating and talking on her cell phone, while the children tend to make a game of it, trading plantanes for lettuce leafs and scoops of rice for spaghetti. Maria will sit in the rocking chair, tranquil and satisfied. It will not be long before she takes up the task of washing the dishes and preparing another meal. She would not have anybody else doing it, choosing to take on far more burdens than are healthy, I would say.

In my afternoons I do any range of things. Sometimes I will read scripture or a good book, listen to an audio sermon or sit down and do some painting and sketching. For the most part, though, I visit people. Arrangements are made at the last minute here- or not at all. I may walk over to a friend's house and say: 'Who do you want to visit? Lets share the good news with them.' Or I may be invited in by someone sitting out front in their salon as I walk by and end up passing the better part of the afternoon in conversation. Other days I will deliberately visit people from the church, spending time in the scriptures, learning and growing in faith. Thank God for community!

Around five or six, as the heat subsides, I will go for a jog or head to the field and play some football. It doesn't take long to work up a sweat here. Taking a bucket-shower afterwards
is refreshing beyond description. Ah... A humble supper of salami and plantanes or yuca, by candlelight, and it's time to enjoy the evening. There are often church meetings/ services, but
if not it's fun to hang out with my friends who go to school during the day. Street corners pump out the bachata, and many people dance to wind down and end the day off right.

My nights end off in reflection, contemplation and prayer. Sometimes I will read a book until my eyes are too heavy to go on, letting the fan lull me to sleep and letting the world of dreams wash over me.