The Angels Rejoiced

In my last newsletter, I mentioned an art student I have been working with named Sandi. Sandi is a 33 year old mother of two (Albert, 11, and Sindi, 9). She started coming to our art school at the admonition of her therapist: she needed to get out of the house and so something creative. The beginning weeks were difficut as she tried and tried again to draw the basic glass bottles and teapots we have all beginning students start with. She couldn't do it. I have never seen anyone in my life draw almost the complete opposite of what they're looking at. She was frustrated, I was frustrated, but I talked with her, our semester students Tyler and Michelled talked to her, Fran encouraged her and over time she began pouring out her heart. She has suffered from severe depression and anxiety for the last 9 years. For part of that time she was hospitalized and put on heavy medication. She has tried to commit suicide multiple times. She sleeps everyday between 12 and 6 pm. She lives in despondancy, despair and darkness. As she began tearfully revealing these things to us, we just loved on her. After about a month of her coming to our school, I asked her one day if we could pray for her. She said she was embarrassed, but I knew that we could not let her go. We gathered around her and she just grabbed our hands and Francisco began this beautiful, yet fervent prayer in Spanish. We all wept with her. Then she asked if she could come to church with me on Sunday!

Sandi had studied with Jehovah's Witnesses for many years and even tells people that she was one. But, she shared with us that she was never able to completely believe in it and she didn't know why.

I took her to church. She cried during worship. She listened intently to the sermon. And, at the end, she asked me to stand up with her at the altar call. She confessed her sins and accepted Jesus into her heart. Our church is really good at following up with those who stand up and she was hugged by one of our ushers and taken downstairs to give her name and address and to recieve some written material about Christianity. One of our other art students, Andrea, went down with her so that she wouldn't feel alone. It was an amazing night.

The next weekend our church was having a retreat/conference and Sandi wanted to go, so I picked her up Friday night and we went. This time, she put out her hands during worship and sang at the top of her lungs as she cried and cried. She listened intently again and afterward wanted to meet the speaker who is a Puerto Rican pastor. She told him her story and he lead her through another sinner's prayer. In the car on the way home, she asked me why tears uncontrollable flowed out of her during the singing. She said that at the Jehovah's Witness Kingdom Hall, that had never happened; neither at the Catholic church she had attended as a young person. I began to tell her about the Holy Spirit. She was overwhelmed by all that had happened, so we didn't talk too much that night.

The next week she came to the art site and told me she had something to share. Here in the Dominican Republic exists 'Brujeria', or, witchcraft. Though most Dominicans never confess to believing in them, many of them will secretly consult with witches to perform spiritual things for them. Sandi had done just that. And recently. Though she has made a decision for Christ, she is still bound by so many other things. After sharing what this witch woman had her do, I prayed and prayed. Because my Spanish isn't good enough to explain a whole lot, I asked her to please share with Francisco. She did and he talked to her about the difference between Satan's power and the power of God, but she didn't really understand. In her desperation to relieve this constant pain in her life, she is grabbing at whatever she can. But she was able to acknowledge that ever since she had been meeting with this woman, she has been constantly sick with headaches and vomiting. Please pray for her. She has said that she will not see this woman again (the main reason being that she charges too much money), but Sandi is still having a hard time. Our church has an integration ministry set up and so I went with my friend Elizabeth, who is now head over that ministry, to go visit Sandi in her home. Elizabeth is a fluent Spanish speaker and Sandi really trusts her. I am praying that as the church gets more involved, Sandi will begin to realize that she has a family around her who will walk by her as she gets set free.

There are so many more like her in the DR. Depression, hopelessness, drug and alcohol abuse, prostitution and belief in superstition and witchcraft are major strongholds here. Please pray for us as we continue sharing Christ's redeeming love with her.

Dia de Accion de Gracias, a.k.a. Thanksgiving

Well, I've had a lot of quesitons asking how we celebrate Thanksgiving in the Dominican Republic. I regret to inform all Americans that America is the ONLY country that celebrates this holiday since, you know, it originated with Pilgrims and Indians. Theoretically. Giving thanks actually originated a long time before that, but that's beside the point.

Having said that, I will gladly share that Students International put on a Thanksgiving for all of our staff and their families and for our semester students the night before Thanksgiving. We worked Thanksgiving day since it is not actually a national holiday here.

A traditional, yet somewhat Dominican, meal was prepared (pineapple jam instead of cranberry sauce) and enjoyed by everyone (though the Dominicans found the food to be kind of bland). We had a live worship band playing and we spent meaningful time giving thanks to God for specific things. We danced our puritan patooties off as we worshipped the Lord with Thanksgiving for all that He has done. It was the best T-day I've ever had.

On a funny note, we at the art site decided to dress up as Pilgrims and Indians (though we didn't catch a shot of Francisco wearing his construction paper headdress). All the Dominicans thought I was a nurse and were very confused.

Meet Tyler and Michelle

Francisco and I have had the incredible privilege of hosting these two students from Bethel College, Indiana at the art site for the last two months. Tyler and Michelle came on a semester program with 19 other students to study Spanish and work in occupational ministries with Students International. Originally, each were assigned to a different work site-- Michelle at education, as she is an English major and wants to teach, Tyler at medical, as he came to find out if nursing was something he'd like to pursue. Due to overbooking, these two were placed at my site. It was the hand of God. Tyler and Michelle are both very talented artists and each have the spiritual sensitivity to go along with it. They immediately jumped right in to what we were doing at the art site: hanging out with our students and building relationships with them, making art of their own, cleaning up when it needed to be done, running errands with me, and teaching two mornings a week at a local school.

Along with teaching art at our art school, Ty, Michelle and I spent 5 weeks at Jarabacoa Christian School teaching art and how God feels about art. Our lessons were as follows: Week 1-God as Creator: we read the first few verses in Genesis and the beginning of Psalm 19, talked about creation, shared about Vincent Van Gogh and his life, and we did drawings in crayon based on his Starry Night painting. Week 2- Bezalel and Oholiab: God's Skilled Artists: Exodus 31, talked about our gifts and callings from God and how we are to practice them, become skillful and do them excellently. We shared about artist Cezanne and how he saw everything as though it were encased in shapes. We drew glass bottles, starting with rectangles. Week 3- True Worship vs. Idolatry: the Golden Calf story (how art was used to worship false Gods), talked about how we can use the gifts God has given us in ways that don't please Him; God's perspective vs. man's perspective; featured artist M.C.Escher who was an expert in perspective drawing and then we taught them how to draw some basic perspective. Week 4: Being Made in the Image of God. We talked about what it means to reflect God's image. We showed the self-portraits of Van Gogh, Cezanne and M.C. Escher and then showed the classes Michelle and Tyler's self-portraits that they had worked on. The art project was to draw a self-portrait based not on appearance, but on who they are as image bearers of God. Week 5- God's Love for Cultural Diversity: Tower of Babel (God confuses languages, causing humanity to become different and spread out) and how the 'glory of the nations' will be brought into the New Jerusalem (art being some of that glory). We showed students different art from around the world and then we taught them how to make Origami cranes.

What an amazing time it was. We really bonded with the kids (ranging from 2nd grade to High Schoolers). Here are some photos:

Ashli showing off her self-portrait

Me showing off some African art to the 5th graders

Tyler, Michelle, the 2nd graders and I showing off their origami cranes

A fun time was had by all.

Tyler and Michelle are finishing up next week and I am really sad to see them go. They have each brought with them some amazing reflections of Christ in His splendiforous array and I will miss them terribly.

Rainy Sunday Afternoon

I feel delicious today.
Deliciously happy, that is. I was afraid that fall wouldn't feel like fall here simply because I live in the tropics. But thank God for rainy season . All these dark, cloudy, stormy days have been stirring up nostalgia in my heart and I have been filled with joy at the season. Yesterday, for example, was so cozy my heart is still overflowing! After going with my roommate to take one of our semester students to the clinic to get his blood tested (yes, he too contracted The Dengue, dunh, dunh, dunh) we took him back to where he is recuperating (which, for the time being, happens to be at the Entrekins'-- one of our SI families). Sissy and her girls Mary Emily and Isabelle were busy at work making Christmas ornaments out of these plastic things that you later melt with an iron. We were graciously invited to participate and were even offered hot chocolate. It was almost more than I could handle. I realize it's only October still, but I could not help the fact that "Just hear those sleigh bells ring-a-ling, ting-ting-ting-a-ling too!" escaped from my lips. Much to my delight, Sissy, the girls, Amy my roommate, Jim the Dengue dude, and Fernando, one of our Dominican doctors on staff all joined in without missing a beat and for once in my life I finally understood the true meaning of the word 'glee'.
And, I must confess, that after making dinner last night (pork chops, ratatoullie and garlic mashed potatoes), Amy and I put on Narnia and I made Snickerdoodles Dominican-style (with lime peel).
I am learning the beauty of retaining my culture while adopting a new one. I am learning that it's okay to speak some Spanglish. I am learning that the real reason I never thought rice was that great was because I didn't know how to make con-con (crispy rice that cooks too long at the bottom of the pot) and I could have only and ever learned that here. I don't have to start dressing Dominican-style in skin-tight clothes to be beautiful. Nor do I have to live with the constant pressure of having to be skinny, because that does not define beauty here. I can simply be myself, in the season I'm in, wearing my converse tennis shoes, gray hair growing out, baggy pants and still turn a head.
There is joy to be had in the imperfections, in the miscommunications, in the ambiguities, in the homesickness and the transitions. The joy comes not from circumstance, for this world is just shifting shadows. The joy comes in knowing, over and over again, that I am simply a pilgrim on earth, on my way to be married to the most amazing Man for all of eternity, having total security in my end, peace in His love and a daily walk with the Holy Spirit of God.
Passion. Inspiration. Life exploding onto canvas.
Love.

Adventures in Driving

Because I don't have a photo of all three of them together, here are separate pictures of Fransisco's kids. The top is Ysmayar, soon to be 8 years old; the second is of Priscila, 5 years old, the third is Rembrandt Natanael (Natan), 3 years old and the bottom is one of Prisci and Natan with a cousin.

I love these kids. Ysmayar is a typical first child-- a little mother who knows everything. She is very sweet and inquisitve and helpful. Priscila is the typical ballerina princess who is snuggly and giggly. Natan is a completely impulsive little boy who cries when he doesn't get his way and who LOVES to play. All three of them are completely themselves which I appreciate and they are all very patient with me as I try to understand them when they speak to me. Priscila, especially, draws out her words when she speaks to me so that I'll understand. She and Ysmayar also attend a bilingual school and so Prisci will speak to me in English when she can. They are a joy and I love it when they come to the art school or when I get to have lunch with them.

Yesterday, I got to spend a lot of time with all three of them. Let me share about this cultural adventure:

So, Jarabacoa is a lot like my sweet home town of Cambria in the sense that we only have two little markets and no movie theater, etc. The nearest city is Santiago and is about an hour drive north of here. Santiago has just about everything and part of my job is going there once a month or so to buy supplies for the art school. It is also an opportunity to buy bulk foods, cat litter, etc (yes, although we have two pet stores in town and two markets, why would they carry cat litter?? We've been using dirt for over a week, and, well, it's disgusting). So, anywho, I've been avoiding the Santiago trip simply because Dominican driving is insane and nothing is easy to get to in that city. But, alas, the time to go buy art supplies was upon me. As well, the art site has a kitchen that someone else was renting, but hasn't used for a few months, so we decided to start renting it to make lunch everyday and we needed to go buy food to stock it. Yesterday was the day.

The plan was that Fran's wife, Yeimi, and I would 'do' Santiago sometime this next week. However, after lunch yesterday, she decided it would be a good time to go. I was fine with that since we didn't have any students coming that afternoon. Well, then it was decided that we would take all three kids. Then Fransisco decided, hey, I want to go too! But, before we left town, we had to stop by Yeimi's folk's house to pick up some stuff and while there, Yeimi's mom, Martina, decided she needed to go too. Trust me, had anyone else known and wanted to go, they would have crammed into my car-- it's the Dominican way. Now, there are no seatbelt laws here, so you can imagine my anxiety about driving all day in a country where everyone ignores road rules with three little kids in the back. We began our drive. Did I mention it was raining, too? Yes, it had been raining for over a week and no knowing when it would stop. Anyway, the drive to Santiago wasn't too bad, but once in the city, you have to be incredibly offensive and defensive. Two lane roads turn into 4 and 5 lanes. Most cars don't have working blinkers and many of them are missing headlights and/or tail lights. My windows were fogging up and the three adults all had different ideas about where we were going and all three of them were trying to tell me all at the same time in Spanish and then arguing with eachother about it. I made a lot of wrong turns or I missed turns and had to back track, which is not easy. Honking is a language in and of itself and I had to learn it very quickly. Well, we got to the first place in one piece, spent almost two hours and then we got to the second place in one piece and spent about the same amount of time. Instead of three, it was like being with 6 kids in a candy store. Lots of fun, really, and I did get to buy cat litter, the things I needed for the art site and a cute hat for two bucks. We somehow managed to get it all packed into the way back of my car ( blocking all rear visibility) and I was like, oh, good, we can go home now. I didn't know that a trip to Santiago included a stop along the highway (on the opposite side of the highway) to have stewed goat for dinner. It was pouring down rain and nighttime at this point. Since I couldn't see anything, I kept having to ask Fran, who was in the passenger seat, to look out the window for me to see if I could get over into the other lane (because often you have to pass cars that are pretty much on the verge of death, but still driving). Every time, I'd ask him, 'Can I go?' and he'd say, 'yes, if you want' and I'd be like, 'yes! I want to, but are there cars coming!!?' It was frustrating, but God got us home alive and I didn't even get a migraine. I knew at the beginning I'd just need to 'go with the flow' and for the most part I did, but toward the end I was really ready to never take 6 people to Santiago with me again.

Ironically, I'm going back to Santiago today to tour the Mirabal sisters museum (3 sisters who stood up to the Trujillo regime and were murdered).

Someone else is driving.

Happy Things

Many of you have been requesting more photos on my blog. It's understandable. It just took me a while to remember to buy batteries for my camera, but I finally did and so here are a few brief glimpses of life here in DR: (1) -at the bottom-meet Shiloh. Two nights ago, Amy and I were eating spaghetti when we heard some incredibly loud and very pathetic yowling. I tried very hard to ignore it because I know that this country is full of homeless animals. In fact, a month ago we had a stray puppy crying in front of our house that I rescued. She was SO cute and I named her Ella and she lived at the art school. But, one day she found her way off the property and never returned. My heart has been broken over it. Anyway, so there we were, eating spaghetti, when I couldn't stand it any more. We walked down the street and lo and behold, there was this tiny, tiny kitten crying in front of a neighbor's house. We both instantly agreed that it needed to be ours, so I went back with a plate of tuna and lured him home with me. He's a little lover. (2) above Shiloh is a plate of tostones, garlic rice and fresh avocado. This is a typical Dominican dish. Tostones are fried and pressed slices of green plantain. To make them, you have to peel the plantains which skins are very tough, slice them in rounds and then toss the rounds into a pan with about a half inch of very hot oil. You cook 'em for a few minutes, then scoop them out and put them into a wooden press thing (also pictured above-#3), one at a time, to smush them. Then you put them back into the hot oil for a few more minutes, take them out, salt and eat. I took this photo because, well, it was the first time I have ever made garlic rice and tostones and was very proud of myself. (4) last night, Amy and I had a group of 9 girls over for pizza, brownies and a movie. 7 of the ladies are part of the group of semester students who are here from Bethel College in Indiana. They will be here in Jarabacoa until December 11. Their first 5 weeks are spent in Spanish class, then they have a week of traveling around the island, then they work at our ministry sites (I'll have two of them at art!) for 8 weeks. They are all delightful. The other two girls are Mary Emily (8 yrs. old) and Isabelle (6) who are the daughters of two on our staff, Sissy and Brian. Sissy and my roommate work together. It was a very fun evening. (5) second to last, a photo of my bed replete with mosquito net. In the beginning, I did not sleep with the net because, really, we don't get too many moquitos in the house and when you sleep with a fan on (every single night), they can't land too easily. However, we have another pest problem: lizards, geckos and anoles. These guys are absolutley colorful, beautiful, quaint. They also leave their droppings EVERYWHERE. One night, I was sitting on my bed, reading, when a fresh lizard dropping fell on me. That was the last straw. Up went the moquito net. The way many of the houses are designed here, our house included, is with tin rooves that are not secured against the top of the walls. Between the roof and the wall is like a 4 inch gap that things like lizards, bugs and mice can crawl through and leave a trail behind them. I don't like to sleep underneath the net, but it gives me a semblance of peace and therefore is included in the 'happy things'. Last, but not least, the happiness of paint. One of the many joys of being here is the time I get to spend making art. I don't do it everyday, but I have the freedom to do so whenever the mood strikes. Yesterday, Francisco and I were discussing the Great Comission: "Go into all the world and preach the gospel, make disciples and baptize them in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, teaching them all I have commanded you." That is an Amy paraphrase. Anyway, I asked Fran: "There are like an abundance of missionaries here. And, there are enough Dominican believers to share the gospel with their neighbors. So, why am I here and not in some jungle where they've NEVER heard?" He just smiled and said (in Spanish), "Yes, we have many believers here and many missionaries. But we don't have art missionaries." Then he threw back his head and laughed with pure joy. That is the happiest thing of all.

The Dengue Diaires

Many of you heard, many haven't, that, yes, within just two months of being here, I contracted Dengue fever. Dengue (pronounced Dayn-Gay) is a tropical fever that is passed around by those pesky little buggers Australians like to call Mozzies (a.k.a. Mosquitos). There is nothing you can take to prevent yourself from getting Dengue-- no injection or handy little pill. You just cover yourself with bug spray and hope for the best (but for those of you who know tropical mosquitos, they'll eat through even the strongest bug repellant, so it's not a surefire way to avoid getting bit). Just over two weeks ago, while I was mindng my own business, a dengue-carrying mosquito decided to dine on my feet and get me sick. It takes about 3-5 days after getting bit for the symptoms to show up, but when they hit, boy do they hit.
Tuesday, September 11 (wow, 9-11, hadn't realized that til now) I awoke with the slightest tinge of a headache. Nothing major, it's common for me to get headaches, so I didn't think much of it. I had breakfast, went to the art site, greeted one of our students and went into my office to pray and look at some art books. Within an hour I started feeling really weepy and homesick-- more than normal-- and I remember thinking it was weird. In about another hour, all of my joints felt like they were on fire. At about this time, Francisco (who had been sick for a few days) showed up with his family and I proceeded to play with his kids for about another hour, all the while feeling incredibly weak and with a headache on full-blast. Thankfully, it was time for lunch and I told Fran that I wasn't feeling well and was going home and reminded him that I had Spanish class in the afternoons now, so I wouldn't be back that day. He said he wouldn't either, so we locked up and left.
I did make it to Spanish class, but I only lasted about a half hour and then had to go home. A few people speculated that I might have some kind of virus, but in my spirit I knew I had Dengue. I tried not to panic, but just went home, slept, tried to keep hydrated. My roommate was away kidsitting for the week, so I was all alone *sniff*. By Wednesday afternoon, everything hurt. Not only did I feel like my joints were on fire, but it felt like I was being pulled limb from limb and I had a terrible pain behind my eyes. Luckily, at this point, Cheryl, our field director's wife, called and said she was coming to get me and take me to her house. Thank God, too, because when we got to her house, she took my temperature and it was 103 ( I do not know what that is in celcius for all of my foreign friends)!! She also called Alba, one of our doctors on staff, who had me come right away down to the local clinic where she works to get a blood test done (this would determine whether or not I had Dengue). Alba said she could tell by all my other symptoms (fiery joints, achy muscles, headache with extreme pain behind the eyes, crazy high fever) that I had it, but the blood test confirmed it. Though my blood platelette count was normal, there was something else that was low (can't remember) and so I was ordered to bed (duh) and Cheryl was in charge of trying to get my fever down by pumping me full of fluids and giving me Tylenol every 4 hours, plus some other powdered medicine every 12 hours. For the first 24 hours I drank Gatorade and water, but apparently the dye in gatorade isn't good when you are sick, so then it was water and (yuck) Pedialyte. Now for anyone who has been subject to Pedialyte... my sympathies. For three days I layed in bed in constant pain, fever spiking up and down and delirium dreams to boot. I had one dream where a group of Haitian women ghosts were telling me I hadn't paid my rent on the right side of the bed and they needed the space to braid hair. It was hours of arguing and I finally got out of bed and went and sat in the chair in the room, I was so out of it. Finally, on day 5, the achiness started to lessen and my fever was staying at 99. I thought I was over the worst. I was wrong. Apparently, I had contracted a string of Dengue that causes you to break out in a rash on your hands, arms, feet and legs and cause an itch so bad you want to die. I had to go down to the clinic again to get another blood test, a shot of hydro-cortisone and get a prescription for hydro-cortisone pills. None of this worked. I didn't sleep all that night. The next day I had to go down to the clinic to have another blood test (they monitor your blood every day to make sure your platelettes don't crash) and, sure enough, the rash had caused my platelettes to dive bomb. This is when I was admitted to the clinic to be hooked up to an IV. I was in the clinic for two days. I had people staying with me round the clock (which was a huge blessing). Right when I was admitted, Alba authorized for me to get a shot of Benadryl which would (theoretically) knock me out and help stop the itching. No such luck. I am one of those weird ones who can resist the powers of Benadryl apparently. I just laid there in bed feeling like I had cement poured over me. I couldn't really talk and I couldn't really move, but I was wide awake and every tiny sound seemed EXTREMELY loud. And the itching... the benadryl seemed to exacerbate the problem... which, without being able to move my hands to scratch was absolute torture!! The Benadryl wore off after a few hours and I was able then to talk with Alicia, 16-yr. old daughter of our field director. She kept me company until her mom arrived with dinner and to stay with me the night. Did I mention I had people with me around the clock? We have an incredibly faithful staff here with Students International. Not only did I always have someone staying with me, many of the staff came in to visit and pray for me. Thank you, Jesus. Well, I was in the clinic for two days getting my blood platelettes back up and getting routine injections of hydro-cortisone which slowly but surely reduced the itching and enabled me to sleep. Dominican clinics are very loud places. They are also, for Dominican standards, kept fairly clean. But, the best thing about being in a Dominican clinic is the tea they serve you in the mornings-- it's sort of Chammomile/cinnamon/anise-y. I do miss that.
So, I've been back home for the last few days mostly sleeping. I have had a normal temp, no achiness and no itching, but have been incredibly weak and tired. I have been told it can take up to a month to get my normal energy back. And I've also been told that once you get Dengue, you are immune to it for up to a year. Let's pray this is true. I wouldn't wish Dengue on anybody.
As for other stuff... transistion to life here continues to be hard for me. Please pray for me in this area. I have never done well with any kind of transition in my life-- I like to be rooted, comfortable, and be surrounded by the familiar and predictable, where I have control over the spontenaity in my life. While I can appreciate many of the new things here, it gets waring having so many little things be different. Mostly I miss my family and friends and the ocean. At the art site, Fran and I are in the very beginning stages of planning a new art program. He has been dreaming of this for over a year now, so I am just jumping in and trying to figure out my role (which mainly is being his assistant-- getting the curriculum together, signing up new students, etc). Dominicans don't take art very seriously, so it is hard to get and keep students on a regular basis. We do have a couple of students who have progressed to the point where they can make paintings to sell. Fran's wife, Yeimi, has a store in town where these paintings are on display. However, when it is not tourist season (i.e. summer) things just don't sell. It can be discouraging for the students who are really looking forward to selling some of their work. As well, they need to sell some work in order to buy paints to paint more stuff, so a couple of them are just 'waiting' and come in on occasion to draw and improve their skills. Anyway, you can pray for Fran and I as we prepare this new program to draw new students.
Because I have missed the first 2 weeks of Spanish class, I am not going to continue (since it's only a 5 week program). My roommate is taking it and so I will study with her in the evenings to hone my skills, but basically, it is just going to take time to pick it up. Spanish is one area where I am still struggling. There are many different accents here and it is very challenging for me trying to understand. For example, Fran, who is very expressive in his speech, I can understand well. His wife I can't understand at all. It makes getting close to her very difficult because communication is nearly impossible. I thought I'd be picking it up fast, but I'm not. This is perhaps the most frustrating part of being here. I love language. I love to communicate and when I can't express myself, I get very frustrated and I feel very isolated. Our staff pastor, Nate, just keeps saying to me: "This too shall pass." And so I keep holding onto that, knowing that no dark night of the soul lasts forever and that, one day, I will be on those mountaintops with the Lord again looking back at everthing He has done during this period I'm going through. My prayer as of late has been, "Lord, put a new song in my heart."
So, to all you singers out there, join me in singing praise to our King who is Worthy. Jesus is coming back and we will stand before Him on that day, pure, spotless, with a beautiful history, with a grand love story to sing about for all eternity. He never said it was going to be easy, but He did promise to be with us. And I know He's here.

Alegrense! Rejoice!

Well, I survived the hurricane.

It actually wasn't hard to do because it never came near us. We had some heavy showers offset by forboding cloaks of charcoal cloud, but everything stayed in tact. Thank God, too, because it would have affected our yearly staff retreat. Staff retreat at the beach. Staff retreat at a beach resort. I know.

Before coming to the Dominican Republic, I had heard a little bit here and there about these resorts. Apparently celebrities like to come to them for R&R. What I didn't know was that DR beach resorts are a culture unto themselves. Some people come to them and never leave the compound to see what the country looks like outside the walls. For $35 a night, you get a luxury room, all-you-can eat buffet almost 24 hours, all-you-can-drink mini-bar (alcohol included) and access to all the pools, snorkling gear, kayaks... and well, there's the beach.

I shared a room with my roommate, Amy, and Elizabeth who I mentioned in my previous blog. We didn't spend much time in the room, you can understand why. We had perfect weather. The resort is in Puerto Plata, a beach town about a 2 and a half hour drive north of here, where the weather is significantly hotter than in Jarabacoa. Which is perfect because it makes getting in the water that much more wonderful.

The minute we arrived, I headed straight for the ocean. It was a sight for Pacific-starved eyes. Being accustomed to seeing the ocean everyday back home you can understand why standing before the Carribean felt like I could breathe again. Anyway, I ran straight into the water. Now, unlike most ideas we have about the Carribean (translucent shallow water that goes out for miles), Puerto Plata looks more like San Simeon Cove: Dark blue in the distance with that undertow brown along the shore. Mixed into that undertow brown is all kinds of what my roommate likes to call 'Jazzety-Jazz' (seaweed chunks, gravel, and, well, who knows what else). Regrdless of the yuck, I floated along happily in the waves like a little sea otter, soaking in the salty-mineral nourishment. After about 10 minutes, though, you want to jump out and run quickly to the nearest pool to de-yuckify yourself (after rinsing under an outdoor shower, of course). There were several pools to pick from, but I nearly always ended up where the kids were. It was a great weekend to bond with the kids on our staff (all Dominican-- the two American kids are in the states on holiday). I learned a lot of Spanish as they continually yelled things at me. 'Orilla' means bank or landing, 'Onda' means wave(created by waterfalls,'cascadas'). I was a water horse for two days straight. Anyway, all was good times.

So sad to leave it behind.

Today, it was back to work. My day started off, much to my joy, with Elizabeth picking me up on her motorcycle. I confess, I've been converted. For those of you who know me well, you know that I have a terror of things I feel I can't control. Motorcycles have been one of those things. Dominicans live on 'motos'. I knew this coming in here. I knew that, at some point, I'd have to ride on the back of one. What I didn't know was how exhilerating it would be and how much I would want to own one. I dream almost daily of riding my own bike around town, wind in my hair, dodging traffic. It is liberating. Selah.

Anyway, we drove on over to the art site, greeted Fran and set about to more 'training'. Elizabeth has been showing me the ropes. How to sign up students for class, how to pay bills, where to buy art supplies, etc. And, she's been teaching me Dominican-style cooking during our daily 2-hour siestas. Chicken, rice, beans, pasta. Yes, we actually bought a whole chicken, feet included, hacked it up and cooked every part of it. One day we cooked it with garlic, cilantro and a whole bunch of other Dominican spices that I can't remember the names for. The next day, Elizabeth fried up the remaining pieces. I must stop talking about it cuz I'm getting hungry and our gas is leaking, so we can't use the stove. We are waiting for someone to come look at what the problem might be. Anyway, overall training has been basic, but good. I won't be doing much for the first few months here as I get adjusted and figure out the routine at the art site. Beginning September 10 I will start 5 weeks of Spanish class. We have a group of college students coming down for a semester here and their first 5 weeks will be studying Spanish in the afternoons. My roommate and I are both going to jump in with them to hone our Spanish skills. My ear is starting to adjust a bit better to the Dominican accent, but I am far from being able to make myself understood. Major frustration for me. Starting next MondayI will be on my own at the art site... on my own meaning Elizabeth won't be there to translate for me. Scary. But, this is how we learn. Trial and error. One day I will be past the shrugging and shy giggling and will be pouring out a fluent stream of this beautiful language. Keep the prayers up.

As I ride the waves of insecurity, as I am tempted to look down at these waves and panic, I am constantly reminded that to walk on water, to live by faith is to look into His eyes. He is our substance. He is my worth, my strength, my song. I have been reading Hosea. It's all about God's redeeming love. It's about His mercy toward us. Even though my sins are as scarlet, yet He will make them white as snow. It is easy to see my sin as I am constantly being broken living outside of my comfort zone. But as I cry out to Him to deliver me from my own wretchedness, he comes in with His cleansing love and restores and renews me. I love and serve such a God and my desire is to know Him more and more so that others around me might come to know Him. Time is short. And so I pray, I read the Word, I cry, I ride on the backs of motorcycles and give thanks and I wait for Him.

Love and peace to you.

The Lord is Near

In all reality, I love being here. After a fairly good night's sleep, I awoke a little after 7 (which is sleeping in for me), poured myself a glass of pina guayaba juice, crawled back into bed and now here I sit to update my blog.
It has been a roller coaster first 2 weeks. I arrived just days before the last outreach of the summer here. Students International hosts teams for 14 straight weeks in the summer time (usually about 50 people per outreach) and so I was able to jump in on the last one as part of a team. Seven incredible people from my home church in Cambria were here as well and that made my transition both wonderful and heartwrenching. I spent my days at the art site, where I will be working, observing, participating, praying. We helped Elizabeth (the woman of God who has been at the art site for the last 3 years) finish up an art class for kids that used Bible stories to teach them about God. All of their projects were based out of these stories and all of the children LOVED their time. On the last day of outreach, we held a litte art show for them-- invited their family members, had snacks... it was really a great time. We also took this art class 'mobile' into 3 of the schools SI operates here in Jarabacoa. Outside of spending time at the site, I was able to join the Cambria team on some excursions-- my favorite being a trip to two waterfalls. I unfortunately forgot my camera on most of the outings and so don't have glorious photos to post, but I promise you, the waterfalls here are gorgeous. It was soul-enriching to climb to the top of Salto Baiguate, lay on the rocks next to my close friend and listen to the powerful water plummeting down. I felt like an eagle soaring the high places with God.
It was an incredible two weeks.
These are all things I've done.
But how am I doing?
Yesterday, as I accompanied the Cambria team back to the airport to say goodbye to them and send them on their way, I felt like my heart was being ripped apart. I felt sick, vulnerable, scared and abandoned. I also felt comforted by God, peace, and an inner joy knowing that I was in the center of His Will. I cried many buckets of tears. I kissed them many times. And I left the airport feeling hollow inside. I am in a new country, surrounded by people I don't have long-term trusted relationships with, no church family and a very limited ability to speak or understand Spanish. I knew that as I hopped into the SI van to head back to Jarabacoa without my friends, that I needed to dive right into what God was doing here or else I wouldn't make it. Lowell, our field director, was the one driving and on the way to PriceSmart (a huge Costco type place that is in Santiago-- a city about an hour from here), I asked him point-blank: what is God saying? What is God doing? How is SI praying? Basically, God has called me here for this specific time and season and I want to know what season the leadership here believes we're in. He recounted to me a vision some visiting saints had shared with him about revival fires starting all over the place here. I do not have the patience to go into detail, but what it did was confirm to me that I am in the right place. My heart's cry for the last 5 years has been to be in the midst of revival. I do not know what this will look like, but what I do know is that all of the churches here are on the same page and that revival is already starting here in Jarabacoa. As I learn and discover more of what this is, I will share. For now, I am taking this week (we have a week off) to seek the Lord and pray. I want my heart, not just my body, to be positioned before Him so that when He moves, I am right there with Him. He is already moving and I am here with Him, but I want to be wholehearted. It isn't easy.
Gloria a Dios!
Last night I made pizzas with Arlene who is another single staff woman here. We had a great time of fellowship and it was neat to be able to cook for 13 guests. Everyone really enjoyed themselves (and the pizza) and it was nice for me to be able to spend some time with more of the leaders of SI and their families. Everyone here has been so encouraging and supportive and I am so thankful for that.
I am tired again, so I think I'll turn my fan back on and go back to sleep.
Love to you all.

Home again, home again, jiggety-jig

Okay, I'm back in California, unwinding and getting prepared to make the big move to Jarabacoa, Dominican Republic. My brother is watching Star Trek, my nephew is taking a nap and I just finished an ice-blended mocha (the likes of which I will not see for many months on end). All is relatively well. Here I have included some last pics of my experience in Guatemala. From the top down: me with my Spanish teacher Noemi, an older beggar woman (it cost me 20 quetzales to take this photo!), one of the 'personajes' of Antigua-- the blind guy who begs enough money to be a lender!, me and Alejandra-- the 12-yr old girl who works in the house where I stayed (her father abandoned the family and she and her older sister had to quit school to work), me in front of Cerro de la Cruz-- a beautiful spot that overlooks the city, a wall of chairs, another personaje-- Dona Tonita, frying up dobladas, me trying my hand at mixing clay in the 200- year old tradition of a family of artisans, one of the family-- a man in his 80's mixing lead-based glaze by hand (a job he's been doing 8 hours a day for his entire life), and a cool shot of some of the family's pottery. I have so many more photos, but these are some of my favorites. At the end of my stay there, I had the opportunity to spend more time with the SI staff as the president of SI, Dave Hansen, vistied on a vision tour with about 17 other people. It was an awesome time of getting to know staff from California, Guatemala and soon to be Costa Rica staff. I also was able to make an awesome connection with Ginny, the manager of the YWAM coffee shop. We are hoping that she might be able to come spend time in DR in the future. Overall, Guatemala was a great experience and my Spanish greatly improved. Please continue praying for me as I make the transition to living more permanently in another culture. I will have to learn a whole new way of hearing and speaking Spanish, all the local slang terms and customs and learn how to live away from my family for an even longer time.

It Rained on Our Parade

Yesterday the Catholic church around the corner from me celebrated the last day of Corpus Cristi (the Body of Christ). As I mentioned before, each church celebrates this event at different times throughout the year. No one we asked could tell us the purpose of this celebration, seeing as how Good Friday, Easter and Pentecost are already over, but it has been a long-standing Catholic tradition in Latin countries. I should do some research on it. Anyway, the house where I live was one of the houses chosen this year to recieve the Body of Christ and the blessing of the priest. It is a great honor here and doesn't happen often. All day Friday, my Papa and some neighbors strung the yellow and white streamers over the top of our street and all day Saturday was spent turning the garage into a sanctuary with an altar. Early Sunday morning, all the neighbors lined the street with fresh pine needles, adorning this path with rose petals, daisy petals and eucalyptus branches. Several houses had this strong smelling insence burning all day, filling the neighborhood and our lungs with billowy smoke. I did not attend mass yesterday, opting to attend an evangelical charismatic church instead, but I did return home at noon to await the Corpus Cristi procession coming down our street. This procession is quite long and includes little children dressed up as angels, all of the altar boys, old faithful widows and people who have paid money to participate. The priest walks amid the procession under a canopy carrying the 'custodia' which holds the 'santisimo', or large-sized communion wafer which represents the literal Body of Christ. The priest's hands can't even touch this sancitfied object, so he wraps the bottom in a blessed white cloth. The priest holds the custodia before his face so that you can't see him, only the host. Anyway, the procession ended up coming down our street at around 1:30 pm. They walked in the middle of the pine needle path (intended to stir up the wonderful fragrances) and turned into our garage where the host was placed in a pocket in a sheet that hung and the priest prayed a blessing over the house. The entire street was packed with people singing and kneeling before the host. White and yellow tissue paper squares fell from my bedroom window as the second oldest daughter poured them over the priest's canopy. It rained on us as we worshipped the Lord together.

Ahhhh, Antigua

This morning I awoke at a quarter to 6 to the sound of fireworks going off in front of the nearby cathedral, La Merced. We are in the time of Corpus Christi and fireworks have been going off at random times ever since I arrived here in Antigua just over a week ago. Every village and subsequent Catholic church celebrates Corpus Christi at a different time of year, but this is Antigua's time. Really, it went off without a bang(save the incredibly loud fireworks)-- though I was fortunate enough to glimpse a few sand paintings in a village on our way to one of the local volcanos. Antigua is surrounded by several volcanos: Fuego, Pacaya, Acatenango and Agua, to name a few. Only Fuego and Pacaya are active, Fuego (Fire) being the most active. I was invited to join a group of other students to hike up Pacaya-- no easy feat, I tell you. We arrived at the base of the volcano at about 9 am. Young kids were there offering to sell us walking sticks (roughly sanded sticks about an inch and a half thick) for 5 quetzales (about 70 cents). Too, there were several men standing by with horses in tow ready to take us lazy ones up the mountain. Two girls from our group opted to take horses for the fun of it. We were told as we began our trek up that the first 200 meters were the hardest. Now, I don't know meters from miles or feet, but what I do know is that after 5 minutes of walking, I wanted to die. Talk about an intense incline! I never do well, anyhow when increasing altitude, but really, being as out of shape as I am... I ended up on a horse after about 10 more minutes of intense pain. This was no easy decision, let me tell you. There are only two times I have ever tried to ride a horse and both times the horses spooked and tried to buck me off. So, I was between a rock and a hard place: either attempt to get up on the horse or keep trying to drag my body up this mountain (that appeared as though it would never even out). I was right. It was a two-hour hike UP. I loved my horse. I chatted up a storm with the guy leading the horse and was able to enjoy the view. After about forty-five minutes or so, we on horses were dropped off and left to trek the rest of the way up (another half hour). Up until this point, the trail had been dirt and leaves. From there on, it was all lava rock. I've never walked on lava before. It is sort of like walking on charcoal briquettes that are really sharp and rough. We slipped and slid a lot and one girl cut herself pretty bad and had to get stitches later that day. Anyhow, all this to say that I got within a hundred feet or so of hot, flowing magma. Others from our group opted to go up the rest of the way and get within a foot of it, but the walk there was almost like scaling a wall of slippery sharp rock and it was really hot. The bottoms of their shoes melted a bit. I was content to stay behind and and just watch it from afar. After a picnic lunch of granola and sandwiches, we walked back down the volcano (this time I went without horse). I am so incredibly glad I went, but here, two days later, I'm walking around Antigua grimacing every time I have to step up or down because my legs hurt so bad.

Yesterday, Sunday, I went with several others to a mega church in Guatemala City (about a 45 minute drive from here) to see what that would be like. It was exactly like an American mega church and I didn't care for it at all. I like the intimacy smaller churches have. Anyway, it's good to have different experiences...

Today, I began my second week of Spanish class. I received a new teacher today (my other teacher had a previous obligation) and I LOVE her. She is a wonderfully passionate Catholic woman who was practically preaching the gospel to me. We got along famously and she is incredibly encouraging. Every time I pronounce something correctly she practically does backflips. Plus, she told me I'll have no problem picking up all of the grammar, etc.

My family here is really great. I am living in a huge house with 10 other students of various ages and all of us have pretty big rooms. Our food portions are small, but Antigua has every kind of food you could possibly want to eat, so my other roomies and I have been gnoshing around. Last night a few of us went to this legendary place called Dona Tonita's to have Dobladas de Queso (sort of like a fresh cheese Hot Pocket), Taquitos de Papas and Atol (sort of like a hot horchata). We were in absolute heaven. Basically this woman sets a little awning out in front of her house in the evenings and just fries up a storm. All of us students laugh about how the constant topic of discussion here is food and we share our favorite finds. However, I did go to an art exhibit yesterday that was amazing and thought- provoking (photo and sculpture). Last week, our school went on an excursion to a local village where there is a cooperative of women who do weaving for a living. I am really blessed to be here.

On Thursday, I will be picked up by the field director of Students International, Antigua, whose name is Fernando. He came to the school today to meet me and asked if I'd like to attend a staff meeting on thursday. As well, SI just began an art site here in Antigua this week, so I will get to meet the woman who is running that and they have asked for suggestions from me. We'll see if God gives me any becuase I really don't know what I'm doing...

Thank you for all of your prayers. The grace of God has been keeping me well and through your continues prayers, I will stay healthy, learn Spanish and return safely home mid-July.

Peace and Grace to you in Christ Jesus.

La Casa de Amy

Hola Amigos!
I may have recently shared with you that I have a roommate and house waiting for me in the DR. Well, tonight I went onto her blog in hopes of seeing if she'd posted photos, yet, and sure enough... so, I took them off of her site and put them on mine for all of you to see. The first pic is the front of our house, the dog came with the house and her name is Rosy, next to her is a photo of my room, then you will see the living room, dining room, bathroom, front yard and backyard. We get all of this for about $300 a month including utilities. Of course, there are always some unexpected expenses that come up (like the inverter was recently stolen and had to be replaced). Anyway, I am really excited that I have such a beautiful home to go to and apparently we live very near several other of the Dominican staff. Plus, another missionary family lives across the street. Amy (my new roommate) said it is a very quiet street.
Enjoy looking and getting excited with me. The car in the carport is hers. I will also have to buy one, so be praying for that last amount of support to come in!