This morning I wake up early to hand wash my laundry and as I am hanging my clothes on the clothes line, I feel the sunshine peek over the mountain and hit my face. I climb into my hammock in our little backyard in St. Mary, Jamaica and pull out my journal to tell all the stories of our ministry in evangelism- I do not want to forget these moments in this beautiful country. Again, every morning I am enveloped in the fabric of my hammock and pretend they are my Heavenly Father’s arms. He whispers truths and sings sweet love songs to me as we prepare to go spread the gospel in nearby villages.
Every morning we enter into our own version of a Disneyland ride: a combination of Jungle Cruise and Indiana Jones; except ours is real life! The lush greenery on every side, the windy roads, and the crazy driving makes me believe I’m actually in a movie alongside Harrison Ford. Once we get to our destination, we split into groups and start walking. A lot of the time there are a group of us experiencing spiritual warfare through fear, anxiety, sickness, or a dark presence around us trying to keep us from continuing this work. We have become prayer WARRIORS and are casting out things of the enemy every morning.
Oh what a joy it is to celebrate a new sister in Christ! Even if it is on the side of the road beneath the rain. I don’t see the rain as a nuisance but God’s blessings pouring down on us. Gosh, I’ve had some of the best moments this past week: listening to a new friend’s story while hearing the beat of raindrops upon her tin roof, meeting as a team every day for lunch at the local church and praying together, eating mangos, chopping coconuts, discovering new fruits, making friends on the road with baby goats and praying with everyone we come into contact with! There are moments I have here where I can’t help but just stand in amazement. Like going to a grave digging ceremony, or almost stepping on a toad as I’m taking out the trash, or watching an 83 year old woman take a machete out of my hands and say “You can’t manage, let me do it.” This is Jamaica. And I love it.
We find ourselves living in tight community again. There are two of our squad’s teams here who trade off cooking and cleaning- we sit together every evening at dinner with our REI pop up dishes, rice and beans, and stories from evangelizing. We have game nights and worship nights and Bible studies and endless laughter about the most simple things.
If we are not talking and bonding with each other, it is with the beautiful people of this community. There is a gate that surrounds our little house and almost every hour there is a new friend stopping by to chat and say hi and meet the Americans in town. I love watching my friends talk with everyone from little children coming to and from school to church elders that we call “grandma and grandpa.” There is a blind man that goes by the name Brother Bird who stops by the gate and calls out “Where is Sister Joy? I must pray with her!” And that’s when I come running to grab his hand in prayer.
This country, this culture, these people are beautiful and I can’t help by find myself waking up every morning thankful that the Lord brought me here. My bed is a sleeping mat and sleeping bag on the floor in our small house across from the church we are partnering with. The Lord wakes me up at 6am every morning, so I’m normally conking out around 8 or 9pm, and let me tell you friends… I have never been more thankful for earplugs.
The sounds of Jamaica are things I will never forget. Our backyard backs up to a river of rushing water, our front yard stands adjacent to the highway of St. Mary, and everyone and their mother blasts reggae music at all hours of the day.
The river reminds me every morning and every evening that the Lord is my living water. It is so incredibly beautiful and sitting in my hammock I have a perfect view of all that goes on- the wandering goats that find refreshment, the ladies that come down to wash their clothes, or the men that boldly bathe themselves completely naked where I need to hop out of my hammock and do quiet time on the porch (lol).
The road has taught me to be patient and alert. At least a dozen times a day I jump in a moment of fright because of the loud truck horns that pass us all day. We live right on the curve of the road and Jamaicans communicate with their horn as they drive to warn other drivers that bigger trucks are coming around the bend. Loud engines, long blasts of the horn, and never ending traffic buzz fill our ears constantly (mom, it would drive you nuts!). We find ourselves laughing in conversation when we have to either pause and wait for the loud truck to pass or just shout the discussion.
The reggae. Everywhere, all the time, it fills the Jamaican culture! I have grown to love it and appreciate it! It’s in our radio on the way to ministry, it’s blasting from our neighbors house, it’s across the street at the store, and it’s heard from many homes as we walk by. I go to bed listening to it and I wake up to it.
These are the sounds of Jamaica. And I’m thankful for every single one of them. Alright, you caught me, not all the time, cause I love me some sleep, but the Lord blesses me with earplugs so I’m good to go. I’m about a week and a half into this month in Jamaica. I’ve been challenged, encouraged, and humbled like none other and I can’t wait to tell you more!
All my love,
JJ
