Pain knows no cultural bounds…

 

After leaving Haiti, I arrived in the Dominican Republic with much anticipation about the relationships that I would form. The Haitians that we lived with became like family during my time in Haiti, which left me with excitement about our month in the Dominican. Imagine my despair when, upon arrival in the Dominican, I felt distant and disconnected with the people and culture.

 

I’ve struggled with knowing my purpose in the Dominican Republic. In Haiti, the children that we lived with immediately clung to me so it was obvious that I should spend my time pouring into them.  While in college and teaching, I felt the need to do something more with my life, which is what led me to the World Race. So, imagine my panic when the all too common feeling of living life non-chalantly began to creep back into my thoughts. This minor freak-out caused me much frustration and led me to seek solitude from my teammates for a few days.

 

I was confused by the idea that God could use me in this place. My team was driving me crazy for no particular reason at all, I questioned why God had me here, and honestly had no clue what to do. One night, my frustration was so high that I sat on the roof outside of our balcony and sobbed uncontrollably. Why did you bring me to this place for me to feel the exact same feeling of merely existing Lord? I don’t understand. What am I supposed to do? On this particular night, the only thing that kept me sane was Leah, Rachel, Laura, and Kendra singing to me while I was sitting on the roof. They found humor in the fact that I could possibly be contemplating jumping and sang the song by the Goo Goo Dolls that says ” I wish you would step back from the edge my friend”. Which is exactly what my friends back home would have done, so it was impossible for me to keep crying.

 

At this point, I realized that I needed to get over myself; everyone misses their family and friends and has experienced some sort of difficulty since leaving, but I can’t dwell on it or I won’t be able to make it through this year. I’m learning that it’s ok to feel frustrated and confused, even though the stigma that goes along with being a missionary is that we have it all together; although we would like to act like we have it all together, there are times that we just don’t. There are days that I know the only thing getting me through are the prayers that are being said on my behalf, which are greatly appreciated.

 

I spent a lot of time in prayer during these few days of frustration. I asked for God to show me what I was supposed to do here. I’ve enjoyed spending time with the kids at Vacation Bible School and digging the canal has proved to be a great outlet to disperse my frustration, but still I felt that there was something more for me here.   

 

While making house visits to get to know people in the community the first few days we were here, we met a 27 year old woman named Jocelyn. Jocelyn asked if we would be able to help her clean an abandoned lot beside her house, because she feared that the accumulated trash would attract mosquitos, in turn increasing the risk of Dengue Fever. We spoke to our ministry contact about this possibility and filed it in the back of our mind after returning several days in a row to find her home locked. 

 

Until yesterday, I hadn’t seen Jocelyn since the first day that we arrived in Guatchupita. At first, she spoke about her children not having uniforms for school and gave me the impression of someone that wanted money from us because we are Americans, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a deeper meaning for our meeting. Little did I know that when meeting Jocelyn, God had organized a divine appointment for me with someone much like myself.

 

I saw Jocelyn yesterday morning, but was unable to spend time with her because we have Vacation Bible School in the mornings. After returning for house visits in the afternoon, I told my leader Jake that I really felt the need to walk by Jocelyn’s house again and see if she was home. I also told Jake that I had seen her that morning and didn’t think it was by mistake. We walked by her house and found it to be locked once again, so I thought my intention of talking with her would be a failure. I walked down the street with disappointment and literally walked right into her. Coincidence? I think not. After asking if she was busy, Jocelyn readily agreed to lead us back to her house and sit down to talk with us.

 

While asking the basic questions of “get to know you conversation”, I could sense a deep sadness within Jocelyn. One that I myself could identify with, but couldn’t quite pin point the root of the sadness. I knew there was a reason that I felt connected with Jocelyn, which became obvious when she told us with downcast eyes that two of her brothers had died within the past few years. Bingo.

 

I told Jocelyn that I had also experienced great sadness because of losing many very close family members back to back within the past few years. Although I wanted to press the issue more, I was struggling to hold back my tears. I finally had the possibility of offering someone something significant and of course, me being the non-emotional person that I am most of the time, decided to get emotional. Really God, really?

 

I excused myself from the room and walked outside to try to compose myself. God, haven’t I already dealt with this? I can tell her that my family was falling apart and You are the only reason I got out of bed sometimes. Lord, I can tell her that You are still good. I can tell her that You will see her through and restore her joy. I can tell her that Your love is the only thing that can’t be taken. Don’t you see that I can help her? Please just let me stop crying long enough to talk to her God, then I’ll cry forever if You want. Please just let me help her. I know that I couldn’t have made it through without You, she has to know You. God, please.
 
Jake found me outside as I debated on whether I should walk to meet the other group or re-join the conversation with Jocelyn. Although we are still getting to know each other, he’s already picked up on the fact that sometimes I just don’t want to talk. So, he stood with me awkwardly and finally said, “I know you really don’t want to talk right now, so I’m just going to stand here even though I really want to talk about this with you”. Classic. We walked around a little bit, prayed, and returned to Jocelyn’s house.

 

Upon my re-entry of the house, Jocelyn asked if I had been feeling ill. I told her no, but that I was overcome with sadness for her and then began to share my heart with her. I find it ironic that I don’t open up to people quickly, and the only thing I had to offer this woman was the essence of everything that I am; a story of pain filled with hope. I held Jocelyn’s hand as we prayed for peace to fill her heart, hope to get her through the day, and joy to be restored to her family. I consider it a blessing that God has shown me His ability to use all the things in my life to draw others closer to Him. Was it full of tears, slobber, and uncomfortableness? Yes, but it was beautiful.          

 

He lifted me out of the slimy pit, 
    out of the mud and mire; 
    he set my feet on a rock 
  and gave me a firm place to stand.