Goodbye Hope Mountian.
Stoooooooory tiiiiiiiime
Background info:
The day after Hurricane Maria hit I, along with about a dozen others from the squad, home baked four batches of sweet corn bread to hand out to the people here. There was no construction to be done post storm, but we were desprate to show our neighbors love and care, so we baked and walked the streets! The group I was with handed out lots of bread, but one of the women we encountered welcomed us into her home. As we got to know her story, the Holy Spirit in me was craving to uplift the Holy Spirit in her. Once we left, I had a feeling that our conversation wasn’t finished. I thought about her in the in betweens of ministry and adventure- while brushing my teeth or eating meals or walking down the path to shower in the waterfall…nearly always on my mind.
We had a free afternoon about a week ago, so my team of girls decided to get a table and some chairs and make the women walking alongside the mix of rocky dirt road and aged cement of Puerta Plata feel seen and beautiful. The mission was to make the women feel worthy of love, so we collected flowers and greenery and old glass bottles to decorate our table- we wanted every little thing to add to the aura of beauty we wanted to emit.
(look at my last blog, “Good Things are Happening Here” for more details on cornbread house visit and roadside nail painting)
This past Tuesday two teams got chosen to spend the day uplifting the women of Puerta Plata. We spent the morning listening to Ruben (the man who began Hope Mountain ministry with his wife, Vicki and their family) tell us about how women here are treated, how it’s the norm for men to brag about how many women they have in addition to their wife, how women are confined to being wives and mothers with little other options for employment. Mixing this information with the reality of sextourism going on here in the Dominican was horrifying. But, we were horrified in a holy way- aware that God’s heart
breaks for the way that we abuse and defile the bodies that He knitted into each and every persons’ mother’s womb. We sat in prayer and worshiped before we covered and coated the streets with prayers for God’s women here on the mountain.
As we walked, this was our mindset: Thank you, God, for the unique beauty within women. Thank you, God, for the unique power within women. God, I pray in faith that You will soften the hearts within these women and rid them of hopelessness. Free Your daughters!! Remind me of the ways that You have rescued, redeemed, mended, and breathed empowerment into Lillabea- all that she is, so that stories of Your glorious strength can be spoken as hope for Your daughters here!
We then got the insanely cool opportunity to run the women’s weekly gathering that Vicki started for the mother’s of the town. I got the opportunity to read John 6: 1-8 in a first person narrative, introducing myself and then explaining that this is a story written by one of Jesus’s friends named John and while I am not the woman that John is talking about, I’m going to read it like I am. I am this woman in a lot of ways- I’ve felt what she’s feeling and I think maybe you have too. Two other girls (the blondie beauty, Catherine and the strikingly strong.stunning Kendall) shared personal testimonies connecting the emotions of the woman in John to their actual lives. We ended with applicable questions, opening conversation for their view of self and how if we hear anything long enough, we have a way of believing it’s true. How can we as women tell ourselves the truth that God has spoken over us before the beginning of time so that we can be the women we were created to be?
You are worthy.
You are a daughter of GOD- made beautifully and wonderfully.
You have power within you- you are spirit and image and testimony of a God that wants us to live well and deep and in love- a hard, wild, revival
type of love.
You CAN be filled with joy, a joy that allows you to laugh at the days to come, without any fear of the future…FEARLESS!
He loves you.
You are worthy of living, just like the woman in the story and Catherine and Kendall.
OKAY ACTUAL STORY:
Last day on Puerta Plata: The Holy Spirit in me longed to encourage the Holy Spirit in Catalina. I was sitting in a hammock talking about wildness in the wildness of the greeny jungles with Taylor, and all of the sudden my stomach was sick. Shot with butterflies at the thought of not walking back to Catalina’s pale pink and cream house- the one that holds the family she loves and serves and lives for. SO I GOT OFF MY BUTT AND DID SOMETHING! I found Grace, a beauty, a Hawaiian princess on the squad who is a little less than fluent in Spanish, and. We went. Came to her house as she was closing her front door. What timing. Hurridly said- through translation- “hey! Don’t know if you remember me, my name is Lillabea- a couple days ago I got to hear you talk about your life. You haven’t left my heart, mind, or prayers. Gosh, if I love you like this, God must love you with a power unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
Her smile.
“Wow.”
Light “gracias gracias gracias” under her breath.
Beauty is connection and appreciation. Love. Love on her front porch.
She let us into the same living room we had sat in where my heart met her and never wanted to leave her. Strange- holy spirit strange. Explained the key
and gave “Rest” to her on a rusting chain. Rust won’t taint the “rest” within her now. Prayed over her and with her.
Prayed Proverb 31. “Out of all of the clothes one can wear, may she be dressed in STRENGTH and in DIGNITY every single day of her life. May she experience rest, knowing
the worth of her work. With that rest may joy rain over her- a joy that can laugh at the days to come without fear of the future. Thank you for aligning our paths so that the spirit in me could long for the spirit in her so that we could share this sofa right now. God, be with her. God, thank you for Catalina.
Amen.”
“Divine appointment”: Left Catalina’s with smiles and “Dios te bendiga.” “Let’s walk a while before the dinner bell rings.” So we walked. and we talked. Walked far. Lost in conversation- one of my favorite ways to get lost. A sweet, elderly “hola” in front of us. Grace and Gracia meeting up as we walked the streets. The two of them had met as Grace and her group handed out their bread. Gracia invited Grace back into her home. Grace returned twice, but no one was ever home. On the right sided of that dirt road, over looking the glorious greens of the vallies and foothills of mountains, Gracia explained that she had been in the hospital for the past four days. A nasty machete incident. Grace prayed over Gracia. happen chance turned glorious. heavenly and lovely. splendid truly. her eyes- Gracia’s- when she cried as she prayed. Beauty beyond words.
Papayas off the yellow bridge: Four women in front of the yellow bridge, seemed like they lost something- a woman was holding a papaya in hand, so we thought that the four of them were looking at the river flowing beneath the bridge wondering how to get their lost fruits. we were happily mistaken! the women were talking about a moped that had crashed into the fence of Maria’s house (a true freaking miracle). Maria- gosh, her inviting, beautiful nature…she swung open her front door and grabbed three little blue chairs, hurridly welcoming us into her home- absolutely no questions asked. We sat, we asked her to tell us her story, she shared, we connected in sadness and grief and praises, we prayed over her, she hugged us- no- she EMBRACED and HELD us each for what felt like a lifetime, saying beautiful and kind things and asking us to never take her out of our prayers. Bystanders turned eternal family. Last words: always keep me in your prayers- for the rest of your days! Praying for the rest of our days for Maria. Feel free to join us.
I’m undeserving of the beauty within all of these encounters. God. He is something I will never be able to express.
Long story short- Women of puerta plata. On my heart. On my mind. In my vision, in my thoughts.
The End.
But I suppose it’s not at all. I just may not know how these stories ever actually end. No clue how to calculate or record the influence these encounters will have on me, Grace, Catalina, Gracia, or Maria.
Dare I say, The Beginning??
