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.