We walk.
Here in the city of La Vega, Dominican Republic, we walk everywhere. According to my FitBit we’re averaging 13 miles a day.
Today was no different. Since it’s our last Monday here and we have a few hours off this afternoon, my teammates and I decide to hit up our favorite ice cream shop to celebrate the end of an amazing month one. I slip on my black Toms and head out the door.
We walk down the familiar streets through the park, past the car wash, past the blue grocery store, and past the basketball court. Traffic is chaotic, per usual. Motos whiz by and men hiss as we pass.
About halfway there, we notice traffic come to a halt as we watch a semi truck block the intersection. We can tell the driver has clearly made a poor choice as he realizes he’s basically stuck at this point. We stop to figure out our new route and watch the spectacle. The truck starts moving again, this time deciding to go straight instead of make the wide turn he’d previously failed to maneuver. We decide to take advantage of the last few seconds of traffic blockage to safely cross the street.
We walk across the street.
No sooner had my foot hit the sidewalk when the debris starting falling from the sky. I feel a jolt across my wrist and look down to see the electric wire hit my bracelet. As I fling it off, I turn to retreat from the debris showering our heads. I hear the crack of the pole splitting, teammates screaming, popping wires full of electricity, and tires screeching as we sprint back towards safety.
As I dodge traffic, the wire I’d just thrown down jumps back up to grab my arm and hit my side. I shake free of its grasp again and slide through traffic across the once again busy street.
I meet my frantic teammates back where we started and we begin assessing injuries. My arm is already bruising and swelling, Tanner has a burn mark on his back, and debris fell on Evan’s head, but we’re alive.
We are, by the grace of God, shaken but fine.
We watch as people pick up their wrecked scooters and carry on about their day, in awe of how we weren’t knocked to the ground, hit by the dozen cars and motos involved, or worse- electrified. We stand in amazement as we process what happened.
The semi truck ended up driving through a low hanging electric wire as it tried to squeeze down the street. This caused the wire to snap and fall on us, the electric pole to crack, and street light to come down with it.
Yet, we walk away from the scene with nothing but a few scrapes and bruises with Romans 16:20 inscribed on my soles. Just a few months ago I had no idea what it would mean as I impulsively grabbed a Sharpie marker and scribbled the words, “May the God of peace soon crush Satan under your feet,” on the bottoms of a brand new pair of Toms.
The next 10 months will be filled with fights and fatalities, victims and victories but we are called to go. The Lord has placed this journey deep in our souls and while it’s not always the easiest or safest, we still go. (Mark 16:15)
So we walk.
