Bastida2 (Amargo y dulce)

So I’ve been feeling rather sorry for myself of late.   Just pretty lame actually.  

I read over the blogs that I wrote 2-3 years ago and I wonder where all that wonder and awe went.  I wonder where the passion is.  I wonder where my faith is.    I wonder why I ever thought that this culture was the greatest thing around.    I laugh bitterly at my innocence, at the fumbles, the naiveté, and the language gaffs.   I think about the friendships that I haven’t kept up, the family that I miss desperately, the nephews that are growing up without me,  the house in C-Vegas with the amazing perennials,  my parents passing their years with me so far away, the job that I was so good at, the miracle of birth every time.   I wind myself up into a pool of pity and wallowing.   Ugh.  Disgusting.    I wait up for my husband to get home and become infuriated that I’m not independent anymore, that I am not the one that folks are waiting on- I’m the “waitee”, so needy.    I remember being part of a church, MY church.  Valued there.  Carried in the arms of my people who knew me (from birth on up) and would be walking with me for the rest of my life.  

It’s been a rough couple weeks.    

My husband kinda saw this coming and reminded me as I was wailing the other night that I cried like this 2 Christmases ago.   He tried to tell me that lots of people here love me too, that I’m cherished.   It just didn’t feel the same.    It felt like I’d be the only one really celebrating Jesus’ birthday, all by my lonesome.    It felt like the wonder of the manger was lost.   (I may have mentioned that I’m dramatic once or twice?)

Then today.   

I went to Bastida.  Baby Nicole’s mom wanted to see me.   She had some peanuts saved for me.   I packed up a little suitcase of socks and some cheap toys and vitamins and headed out by myself.    30 minute drive.   Amidst these stunning mountains with the palm trees cresting over my head, the valley full of fields of yucca and plantains and rice and everything spreading out before me.   I’ve seen it a million times.   The sun was crashing through the clouds.   There were a bunch of motorcycles speeding alongside me and Dominicans walking alongside the road, coming home from the fields and work.   Kids with bags of pigeon peas, cilantro for sale along every speed bump.    The drive felt really fast.   I was pulling up to the exit before I knew it and there they were.   4 little guys.  Waiting for me by the highway.   God only knows how long they were waiting for me to arrive.  They just knew that I was coming.  It was Baby Nicole’s brothers.  They ran as fast as they could to leap into the back of the pickup and tell me everything at once “We’ve been waiting, Mom’s got peanuts for you…and I saved you a mango and I hope it’s still there….Mom came home from work early to see you… Nicolita is waiting for you….we KNEW you were coming…we’ve been saving onions for you too…we HOPED it was you….everyone wants to see you…can you stop and pick up you know who….” and it went on and on.   

And I started to feel it.  A teeny tiny bit of something… maybe belonging, maybe just the feeling of being where I should be.    As we drove the mile or so inside the tiny town, other kids started piling into the truck and the little guys excitedly pointed out everyone in their houses and by the side of the road.   Then I could see ahead of me little Nicole running excitedly down the little road to see me, jumping in excitement.    The whole family was waiting when I got there and sent folks immediately to make some juice.   We all burst out of the truck and hauled the suitcase out and it disappeared inside the house and was never seen again.   

And Martina (Baby Nicole’s mom) and I sat and talked.  And then we walked to see where she is building her new house.  She’s the hardest worker that I know, working in the fields every day to support her kids alone.    She’s just missing a bit of cement and the doors and roof and windows but she’s getting there.    She had a big bag saved for me of the fruit of her labor, pigeon peas and peanuts and onions and peppers.    Her wide smile was the perfect gift and I remembered the day of Nicole’s birth, how quiet and stoic she was.   How she hugged me a few hours later, how I was shaking for most of the day, the adrenaline still coursing through my body.    Today she wanted me to visit some folks with her and so we were off.   We checked on a woman who had had a stroke first.   She still can’t walk but was so gentle and sweet “Nicole, when can you come back?   Is your mother doing well?  I’ve never met her but please send her my regards… And your husband?”.    Humbling.    

And then the chaos that is Bastida rained down…but in a GOOD way.   

The boy that we did surgery on a couple weeks ago that barely speaks-  “Let me see your hand…Wow- it looks great!”.    It really did heal about ten billion times better than I thought it would.  

The man who had surgery 6 months before reported in- “I feel pretty good on the inside…don’t know how it looks from the outside though- what do you think?” 

The pregnant 14 year old -“Can you check pregnant ladies at your clinic?  I don’t know how far along I am….”

Ricardo, the tiny little 18 month old with a huge umbilical hernia- “Hang in there buddy….grow a little bit and we’ll be happy to take care of that hernia”.  

The poor kid with a huge mouth absess- “Call me tomorrow on your way to the clinic and we will take care of this right away…”

The pregnant mama holding the one year old - “When can I see a dentist?”  “Call me tomorrow and we’ll set you up”

And then Martina says “Oh look- there’s Julio” (They call Julian “Julio” in Bastida).   And I see him, hiding behind a tree sitting with some friends, that crazy shy grin- the same one I knew 8 years ago.    And I remember crying when we couldn’t find him in San Juan and they said he had gone to the capital.  And then I remember finding him in Bastida when Baby Nicole was born and knowing God had sent me there.   I remember when his Grandma died, sitting there praying SO awkwardly with his family.    I remember bringing him to the clinic to see Caceres with his spider bite.   I remember his failures, his fighting, his anger, his hope, all that Julian is to me.    And here he is again,  the battler, the wounded, the warrior.   He’s covered in cement because he’s working.  

And I’m taking deep breaths because it’s coming back to me.   It’s Christmas.  There was a baby.   In a manger.  Just like Baby Nicole…sliding out into my hands those 4+ years ago.  And there IS wonder…just like the miracle of finding Julian.   There is excitement…just like 4 little boys waiting and waiting and waiting and chattering in the pickup.   There is joy- in seeing friends who used to be patients but now are part of my story here.   There is belonging and embraces and gifts of yucca and guandules and frankincense and myrrh.   

So I cry the whole way back to San Juan.   Not because I’m sad but because I’m happy.   Yup, I’m way overdue to see my family and friends in the States.   And I’ll get there.   I will.  But for right now, I’m going home to my husband, who is waiting for me.    Waiting.  For me.  I’m going back to my little apartment where we have Christmas lights and a teeny tiny tree to remind us of the glitter of the season, of the Bright Shining Son.   I’m going to think about a fire and hot chocolate with bread to dip into it tomorrow night…because that’s part of the Dominican culture that I love.    I will watch movies with Dan and Kari and Laura and Welly and Monch and ya know what-  they are my church here.   They value me and will carry me in their arms and walk with me in my life here.    I will listen to Handel’s Messiah and sing  “Unto us a Child is Born” remembering just how my Dad sings it.    And I will read the glorious glorious words in Isaiah that prophesy the same:

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Isa 9:6  

Merry Christmas…to us a Savior has been Born.  And He is Christ the King.  Happy birthday Jesus.  

5th Christmas in the DR

As I am sitting down to write I’m realizing that this is the 5th year that I will celebrate Christmas in the Dominican Republic. 5th year! So it’s been 5 years since I went caroling with my small group, 5 years since I opened up presents under a tree on Christmas morning with Bud and Sue Eby, Brett and Jen and my nephews, 5 years since I have been at a Christmas family reunion, 5 years since I’ve walked around Longwood Gardens to check out the lights and smell the divine pine scent. Incredible. How can that be? 5 years! My longing for a white Christmas must be a little bit stronger this year.  

Here in the DR our Christmas lights are up (and have been since early October) and we’ve had our translator Christmas party. Fabulousness. There are apples and grapes for sale on every corner and yesterday in the capital the airport had at least 10 billion people in it. Yup, December in the DR. Everyone comes home for Christmas. The roads are full and the music is cranking. Navidad. Navidad.

It has been an interesting build-up to December though. October and November were BUSY BUSY with teams. I enjoyed the craziness of ENT surgery (nearly 40 surgeries in one week!) and heading out to the barrios with Ivy Tech, Brookside, and ONU. We had a blast with Crossroads in General Surgery at the clinic and are looking forward to working with SUU in the barrios this week. I was thrilled to attend Neonatal Resuscitation classes with Sam and Terry Wellman again. Fall has been GOOD. We are also prepping for a crazy winter with teams pretty much straight from January 2 through March 20th (one week break in there!). There are some short-term changes at the Guesthouse, with Dan and Kari on a 6 month sabbatical and Jeff and Kamanda moving in to take over Guesthouse roles through July. So it feels a bit crazy…although in the back of my mind I feel a real peace about this winter. I have been really psyched to see our translators stepping up and taking on bigger and more serious roles in both providing care and providing leadership at SRI and in our barrio/surgical/construction/VBS sites. I’m excited to continue to watch where God is leading all of us in our various roles and professional lives. 

On some personal levels, it was fabulous to have my home pastor, Steve Crane, come down to spend a few days this fall with Laura, myself, and our husbands. I CRAVE pastoral care…and the love and encouragement that was shared with us was vital and life-giving and so very needed and appreciated. It was a sweet gift from home! 

Monchy and I were also able to participate in the Global Leadership Summit during a weekend in November. The speakers are always dynamic and we left inspired and filled! 

We have also enjoyed a sweet gift from Jesus, a baby brother! Yup- it’s surprising but a delight to have a 5 month old brother in law. Monch and I are both crazy about baby Michael and he just had his first sleepover at our apartment about a week ago. There was very little sleeping but lots of giggling and cuddling. We still fight over who gets to hold him so obviously the novelty has not worn off! 

The new clinic construction continues advancing faster and further! They recently had “The Big Pour” which was essentially a 36-48 hour (straight!) of pouring a concrete floor/base. I’ll leave the details to Ken Potter and Jeff but it was a huge undertaking and another big success on our way to completing the new clinic. Check out Ken’s blog for updates at www.sriclinic.blogspot.com!

Monchy and I celebrated our first anniversary last week with a few days cruising around the country, returning to our favorite hostel in Jarabacoa, checking out a baseball game, and visiting friends in the capital. It was a great trip but we find ourselves always ready to come home to our sweet apartment and funny chickens after a few days away. 

Our biggest prayer request at this time would be for paperwork. Monch and I are hoping to head home this summer for an extended visit and are waiting on Immigration paperwork to be cleared in order for him to come with me. We haven’t had great experiences with visas or embassy visits up to this point and I’m nervous and worried. It will be two years (in June) since I’ve been home in the States and I’m craving some time with my peoples! Please join us in prayer that all of our paperwork will get to the correct channels and be approved. I’m excited for my stateside family and friends to meet my husband! 

My beautiful baby brother-in-law! Michael- gift from God!

Watching Sam and Terry Wellman teach NRC!

Motos and Me and Monch (October Blog #2)

Some of you may have known that my husband recently had a motorcycle accident. Those are pretty common here…and we hear about it from lots of Americans. “Wow- so dangerous!” “Scary- those motorcycles!” “Make sure you wear your helmets!”, etc etc.

I can assure you that most Dominicans are in agreement about the motorcycles. They all think they are dangerous, They all know there are crazy people on the road, and Monch and I know that we should be wearing our helmet. The thing is…motorcycles, and accidents…have a lot to do with economics. There isn’t one San Juanero out there that wouldn’t rather have a car than a moto. But we live on an island and cars here pretty much all need to be imported, and that makes them about TWICE as expensive as in the States. Also, gas is about 5-6 bucks a gallon, which makes filling your car unattainable for many folks. Catching a moto anywhere in them city costs you less than a dollar…and most people have a moto taxi guy that they are accustomed to using. Helmets are great (we even have one of the best kinds!) but we can’t take it anywhere where we can’t carry it- it would be stolen immediately! Many people don’t have enough money to even buy a helmet. Economics. Monch and I are blessed to have some access to the Solid Rock trucks but the majority of people don’t have that option. They have to haul their kids, their groceries, their furniture, their animals…. on motorcycles. I’ve seen dryers, televisions, pigs, rebar, concrete bags, huge sacks of rice or potatoes, 4 children, large mirrors, and more loaded up on motorcycles.

I have visited the mens’ ward in the local hospital and noted that 80-90% of the male patients are there because of motorcycle accidents. I hate it. And yet, I live in part of it. We don’t have our own car and we probably won’t have our own car for years on end. We have a scooter and a motorcycle and I ask for safety prayers more than anything else on my prayer requests. This is part of the deal of living here, being married here, and being part of the community here. But please don’t think that the phone call from the hospital about Monchy ’s accident didn’t wreck my world and make me question everything about living here. I want my husband and I to live safe comfortable lives. I get tired of taking baths in a bucket and fearing the fact that there are no ventilators that work in the main hospital. I’m afraid for both of us getting dengue and I hate sweating over stupid mosquito bites. I hate riding the public buses with 5-6 people squished in a row… knowing that if we wreck…. I’ll just be in a pile of bodies by the side of the road and people will take videos before they try to save me. This is part of the reason that I am and was such a fan of the Paramedic Program. ONE life saved because someone knows what to do in an accident or a trauma could be one life that I know personally… my husband, myself, any of us here. In his time since taking the Paramedic Course, my husband has been called on several times to step in and help. Two days before his accident, he cared for a collapsed diabetic patient at the track. While many many folks gathered around the patient to watch and take videos, Monch checked his vital signs, called for help, and assisted in his transport to safety. He and I happened to have a BP cuff, stethoscope, and glucometer with us in order to assess the patient more thoroughly. This very basic equipment was apparently more than the entire “medical team” had available at the sports event.

After Monchy’s accident (when he was conscious and could call me), Laura and I went to find him at the main hospital. He had not been seen by anyone in his time there (we don’t know how long because he doesn’t remember anything) and was sitting on a stretcher feeling lots of chest pain. His knees were both bleeding and he was short of breath. I didn’t see any of the doctors that I know in the ER and I didn’t want to waste any more time waiting. Laura and I got him into the pickup and drove him to a private clinic where we knew one of the doctors. We walked in and let the ER doctor know of his chest pain. He wrote a prescription for a chest xray and sent us to the waiting room. During Monch’s chest X-ray our doctor friend showed up and took over and then I felt like I could relax a little bit. From that point on, we were in the hands of Doctor Francis and I knew that Monchy would be taken care of. I also knew that the clinic took credit cards and that we could pay. Imagine all of the people who don’t have doctor friends, who don’t have credit cards, who can’t pay private clinics. Imagine all the folks who have to keep waiting and waiting at the full public hospital with chest pain and bleeding who don’t have irate wives that can pull them out of the public ER and have access to a truck to take them to a private clinic. Imagine folks who don’t have Vicodin, pulse oximeters, and antibiotics available.

This is another reality of living here. We have been doted on and visited by no fewer than 70-80 people in his “recovery” weeks. All of these visitors know how quickly accidents happen and how easily people die here. Many many others are familiar with how “achy” and bruised Monchy is feeling because they have experienced it as well. They love on my husband and I and some of them are teary because they know what a close call it was.

One of the other comments that I hear at least every week from group members is “how happy and content” the Dominicans are. YES. This culture is fun-loving. They are emotional. Whenever there are 2 Dominicans together..there is a party. It’s true. They love each other and family and dancing and noise and music and baseball and dominos. All true. They live life to the fullest because they KNOW more than we do how quickly life can be taken away. They are overall a “happy” culture but they also cry loudly and with each other. They just hide their depression and sadness from you. They dream of a better life just like you and I do. They sweat over mosquito bites and fear bus and motorcycle accidents. They want Iphones and video games and cool clothes and basic good healthcare. They want their kids to be educated, even if it takes 10 years at the local public University. Oh and they trust God. They trust God more than I do. They trust Him because there is so much less hope in their own ability to save themselves. They thank God for saving Monchy. And so do I. I walked around our block the night of his accident and tried to breathe deeply and sob quietly away from the craziness of our apartment full of people caring for us. I thanked God for His care and protection. I thanked Him for my husband and his bruised and battered body that was spared and is still here with me.

But now I also pray more for those who are here and those who are coming. I am here with Solid Rock, brought here by God to serve. I am not trying to make this blog an advertisement for everything that we do. But I can tell you that I see a day in which there are ventilators that work in San Juan, that there is care for the POOR that is every bit as good as the care that my husband got from Doctor Francis. I can tell you that I am sick to death of the c/s rate here and I want to do something about it and I hope that in our new clinic there is a changing of the guard and women can labor in peace and not be alone and feel empowered and safe. I can tell you that I can see Nef and Amaury and my husband and every other paramedic in our program racing through this city on an ambulance with an 9 year old that WILL LIVE after being hit by a car because they know what to do and how to treat him and get him to an emergency room where he will be SEEN and taken to emergency surgery. I can tell you that more babies are ALIVE and WILL be alive because the doctors and nurses know how to resuscitate them after delivery because they have taken the Neonatal Resus class with Sam and Terry Wellman. Everything takes a billion years here and I can’t tell you when our new clinic will be finished or when we will open the doors or even that everything will run smoothly or how I would like for the first couple years. I’m expecting chaos, disappointment ,and frustration for a great percentage of the time because that’s just how it is here and guess what- that’s what I’ve learned about ministry too. So here’s the main thing… My hope is in Jesus. He saved my husband. He brought me here. Hear me on this- there is NO PEACE WITHOUT HIM. In the chaos of accidents, in the loudness of 30 people in my house, in the blood rushing to my ears upon receiving bad phone calls, in the silence of Laura and I driving to the hospital, in the pain of stitches and potential broken ribs, Jesus is there. He is my Hope. Please please please look to Him today. And thank you for your continued prayers for us. They are so needed and appreciated.

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A Shout-Out to my crew... (October blog)

I’ve said a million times that we could never ever work without our translators and Pastor Enol.   For the July/August last 2 barrio teams, we’ve sent out “home visitors”.   Our translators or Pastor Enol head out armed with their backpacks and some Bibles and maybe toothbrushes or shoes.      One or two of them sets sail while the rest of us are working in the barrio clinic and they go house to house.   Praying for folks.  Talking about Jesus.   Teaching little kids how to brush their teeth correctly or wash their hands correctly or avoid parasites.     One on one with families.   Sharing.   Loving.   Showing Jesus.    Guys, it gets me all choked up.

This is why I’m here.  Not to be the one going house to house.   I’m a distraction, with my American self and awkward spanish.    I’m here to support these guys while THEY do it, loving on their own.   Understanding and participating in their own culture.   And guess what?   Dominicans are coming to really KNOW Jesus because Euclides and Santos and Luiyi and Enol are in their living rooms, sipping coffee with them and praying about Grandma’s blood pressure or Tio’s diabetes and “hey, we want to give you guys a BIble” and “can we talk to the kids about toothbrushing?”.

And meanwhile,  Hector is talking to the folks in the barrio clinic about leptospirosis- which is a killer…just like SIN.   And Nef is teaching about dehydration and then what LIVING WATER is.   And Glennys is talking to the women in the pharmacy about how to do breast exams.   And Simon is double checking some guy’s blood pressure and reminding the adults how to take care of their teeth.    And Amaury is teaching folks how to take ALL of their medication and not share it with the neighbors or their kids.    If my hubs were there he would probably be finding some blind guy in his house to bring to the barrio clinic and then be running around playing with all the local kids setting up organized games.  All of them- Santiago and Alexa and Quilson are doing it too… loving on their own.   And I get to watch it.   Sure- I can facilitate.   I held a pharmacy class for these guys a couple years ago.     I have an education suitcase full of stuff that they can use.  We as a staff have met recently to review charlas and teachings and we pray together and prep and I can help get the Bibles through groups sometimes and the toothbrushes and toothpaste through groups sometimes too.    But that’s my role? Maybe I’m not exactly changing the world, right?    What is it that is required of me?  Oh right-  it’s in Micah.  And I’ve posted this before- recently in fact.

Micah 6:8 And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.

BOOM.   My crew is showing me how it’s done.   Faces of Jesus.    I heart them all…  #DominicanslovingDominicans

A Day in the Life: Paperwork (September blog)

Just an idea to give you guys what paperwork in the DR looks like….

I’m working on some paperwork for both Monch and I….both to travel to the States and also for me to gain legal citizenship here.   One of the requirements is a birth certificate for both of us, translated and legalized.  That might sound easy to you guys but here my nightmare begins.

Let’s start with mine.   I have to order a copy of my birth certificate in PA to be sent to my parents.  That should take maybe 2-3 weeks and costs 30 bucks.  When it arrives, they will either take it to Harrisburg or mail it to Harrisburg to be apostilled.  That’s another 15 dollars.   Then they will wait to see which team they can send it with to arrive in San Juan directly handed to me (this is because we have had my paperwork LOST IN THE MAIL IN THE UNITED STATES, including my passport and birth certificate).   That may take who knows how long?   Next step,  I have to have it translated into Spanish.  By a legal translator.   Fine.  I know a guy in the capital.    Gas to get to the capital and back is about 80 bucks.   I also probably need to eat at least one meal somewhere there.   I have to plan on maybe 7-8 hours roundtrip just for this step because I will wait for the document to be translated.   It will cost between 30-80 bucks to have it translated by a LEGAL translator.   Next up, I need to have the SIGNATURE of the translator legalized at the Procuraria to be sure he or she is legit.  Close to 20 dollars.   I also waited 5 hours in line the last time that I had to do this.  FIVE HOURS.   Next up, I have to have the TRANSLATION itself legalized or apostilled.   This is done in the Canceleria in the capital also.   Also another 20 dollars.   I have to pay for both the signature AND the document legalization in Banca Reservas, the national bank here.   It’s usually a good one hour wait although Laura and I have waited up to 90 minutes in the line too.    I pay the fees and then hand in my receipt at the Procuraria and also at the Canceleria.   Once my translation is legalized/apostilled I’m hopefully good to go.  Oh and the Procuraria and the Cancelia aren’t anywhere CLOSE to the same place so there is lots of driving and trying to park in the capital.  Oh and did I mention the Dominicans like everything to be recent, like in the last 6 months?  So they usually don’t accept copies that are older than 6 months.   We have to be MOVING with this paperwork.

This is just for MY birth certificate.   Monch’s is along the same lines and process but starting from Spanish to English.     I goto the JCE/courthouse and ask for his birth certificate.   I need the extended version with the maximum amount of info.   It costs about 10 dollars, including the certification stamp.   Last week I had to pay TWICE because the receptionist printed THE WRONG ONE and I had to pay for both pages.  Ridiculous- the poor people in the JCE/courthouse are used to my tears now and it doesn’t sway them even a little.     I have to send it away to be legalized (15 dollars) OR drive myself to Azua (one hour) to wait in line to have it arrive hopefully the same day.   I then have to have it translated in English (anywhere from 30-80 dollars depending on who does it) and then undergo exactly the same procedure at the Procuraria (20 dollars- legalize the signature of the translator) and Cancelleria (20 dollars- legalize the translation itself).   There is no way to avoid a trip to the capital and if I’m trying to do more than one step it’s probably best to plan on spending the night.

The latest nightmare in our paperwork is that there is ONE word spelled incorrectly on our Marriage Certificate.  An extra “e” in someone’s name (not mine or Monchy’s name).   I never ever in a million years dreamed that this would turn into the disaster that it is.    The National Police refuse to accept my paperwork for legal citizenship with this word spelled incorrectly.   I have been to the courthouse here in San Juan 3 times and although there MAY be some attempt to help me, they have assured me that this is an 8 month process to correct it without trips to the capital.  Therefore, Monch and I went to the capital to attempt to speed up the process, since our other paperwork is dated and we want to try to turn everything in within the 6 month process.   We drove from courthouse to courthouse, 5 different times.   We were told 6 months, 3 months, 10 days, one month.   Finally one woman told me that I MYSELF needed to go to the Feria (where all the paperwork/courthouse books are stored), get a scanned copy of the written mistake from our courthouse wedding book, and bring it to them.  ONLY then will they begin to make the changes and that will take over 10 days.   Me.   Driving to the Feria and bringing the scan myself, even though they all have computers and it COULD BE done online.  Do you see the futility of paperwork here?   Can we BEGIN to discuss the amount of money that we spend ATTEMPTING to be legal and trying to get a Visa?  The amount of tears that I shed in the JCE/courthouses is obscene.   The lines that we wait in are an abuse to humankind.    The cost of a lawyer?  Um, no.

I take deep breathes and take a book with me.   I very gently approach these topics with my husband knowing full well the pain of these “paperwork” days for him (and me!).    I am sure this is God’s way of teaching us patience…since that doesn’t come very naturally to either one of us.

This is an example of how paperwork works in the DR.    Another day we can talk about trying to use my address, explain the mail postal service (just…NO), have electric turned on, get WIFI to the house, figure out why we never have water coming through the pipes.   We can discuss why we purchase oxygen tanks from the rice factory in town, or change our money at the Agricultural Center (better rate than the banks!), or buy cell phone minutes from the lady who sits by the side of the road at the military checkpoint.   I can tell you another day some of the beauty and pain in these daily life decisions…how I make a phone call (if I have minutes!) and in less than an hour a 15 year old kid will bring me 10 eggs IN A PLASTIC baggie (none are broken!) and some salami if that is what I ordered.  They will ask me on the phone how I’m going to pay and in what denomination so that he can bring me correct change.  Of course they won’t be able to tell me the total on the phone so I have to guess at about how much money I may need.

But back to our paperwork.  I’m estimating that each PAGE that we need to have…costs us an average of 140-200 dollars.    Pray with me that we can get them all finished and turned in within the 6 month window.    And that, my dear friends, is an idea of what it means to need “just a birth certificate, translated and legalized”.   RRRRIIIIIIGGGGGGHHHHHHHTTTTTTTT.    This is so fun.   So easy.

Tis the Season...for politics? (August blog)

Dominican election year is 2016, which means the winding up of the ridiculous frenzy has begun.    I’m sure it’s nonsense in the US right now as well…but political campaigns in the US don’t involve hiring huge trucks with speakers and blasting music and propaganda at 5 am in the morning (or whatever hour!) as 25,000 vehicles and screaming people begin to clog the road and drive around the city.   That’s how we do campaigns here.   In the States, you all get automated telephone calls but remember it’s optional to answer your phone!  Here, if you are a politician you get as many vehicles as you can full of people waving your flag and playing your song…and you drive around the city and annoy everyone.    Just when I’m in a hurry to get somewhere the road will be full of campaign vehicles or bajillions of people and I won’t be able to get through and I’m forced to sit there grimacing as bumper stickers are shoved in my face and flags are flown over my windshield and speakers are blasting at a volume that is clearly unsafe at a 100 mile radius.  Grumpity.

Here’s a tricky underside though.  Politics pretty much run everything here.   It’s all who you are and who is on your team.   Want to hire someone in the public sector?   Sure hope they are in the correct party!   Because whoever is in power pretty much holds the power to hire…and they are going to hire IN PARTY for the most part.    I’m so grateful that I’m here through Solid Rock.   Jesus is apolitical as far as I can tell (although I guess you wouldn’t know that from Facebook, eh?) and it’s reassuring to be able to serve people and announce in the barrios “We are not coming through ANY political party- this is completely free!”.   Beautiful.   I hope it’s eye-opening for those that we serve.

Politics was one of those things that I had zero idea about when I arrived here.   It’s taken me nearly 5 years to peel back some of the layers of life in the DR and I still feel like I’m barely scratching the surface.   Oh I know some things.   I know better than to wear my flipflops OUT on the town.   Geez, everybody knows that flipflops are for the HOUSE only (I fail at this, by the way).      You put on your fancier sandals to head out, unless clearly you are still in your pajamas at the grocery store, which then excuses whatever outfit you have on.   I know better than to wear shorts out unless I’m exercising at the track.   Dominicans wear super tight jeans for the most part.    Americans are seen as sloppy…and compared to the beautiful primped and perfumed locals here, we sure are.   Sweatpants and a sweatshirt?  You may as well give up and move home.      I know that rice and beans are for LUNCH, not supper.   I know that you are supposed to shower AT LEAST 2-3 times a day.    Otherwise you might be a dirty American who doesn’t know how often to bathe.     You should especially shower BEFORE you go to the gym or track because you need to cool your body down before you heat it up.   Huh?  I know that you drink beverages (out in public) in small plastic cups so that you can share your glass bottle with others.    I know that you spring to your feet when someone arrives at your house and at the very least offer them juice or coffee.     Or you send your husband scrambling to the store to bring home some crackers/sodas to offer guests.    I know that “come at 7” means we will eat at 9 or 10 and that dinner probably hasn’t been started at 7.    I know that you can squeeze an orange or a lime on your car battery and then the engine will probably start.    I know that if someone says “Dios te Bendiga” or God bless you, I had better respond with “Amen” immediately.    I know how to play dominos and how to follow my frente.   I know that I better pretend that I mop my house everyday to rid it on this incessant dust that covers everything immediately afterward.   True words between my husband and I:

Nik : “Hey, we really need to clean.  I don’t think I’ve mopped in two weeks…..”

Monch:  “Don’t ever let anyone hear that!”

Oops.

I know you shouldn’t drink milk and juice at the same meal unless they are MIXED together.  In that case, it’s a delicious combo of Dominican batida milkshake which really can’t be beat.    I know that you SHOULD hang curtains on all on your inner house doorways because thats just how we decorate here.   I know I’m supposed to put brown sugar in the hot oil before I fry my chicken so that the cooked chicken will have a darker color.   White chicken?   Thats just clearly not cooked correctly!   And speaking of cooking, all rice needs to be “cleaned” (pick out all the rocks, dirt etc) and then washed (submerged in water) before it is cooked.   That is the only way.    Raw meat should be washed with orange or lime juice before cooking.    Again, thats the only way.

I know that when I arrive somewhere it is my responsibility to greet and acknowledge everyone else there, including hand shakes or at the very least a “saludos” to all.    I know that if I’m going to a reso (wake, viewing,funeral) I have to pass through an inner room of the folks most close to the one who died.   I will at the very least shake their hands if not give hugs and kiss the women on the cheek.    I will hear the wailing and I will say “I accompany you in your feelings”.    I will also wear black pants and a white shirt or the closest combo of the two that I can find.    Then I will sit somewhere and be served a small cup of dark sweet coffee in the morning and later on get in a huge long line for a community lunch that has been cooked in humongous vats outside over 3 big rocks by the neighbor women who are caring for the family.

So many things.    And I still fumble regularly with cultural faux-pas.    The truth is- I’m not Dominican.   I married one.  I’ve got the inside scoop.    But there are things that I will never understand or comprehend without Monch prepping me beforehand or explaining in great detail as we lay in bed and I fixate on why people think I’m so weird.    Why can’t we just eat black bean soup?   Why does it have to go with rice?   Why do the washers not have a rinse cycle?   Why can’t we leave the laundry hanging outside and leave for 15 minutes?    Why is straight hair the most acceptable?   Why do people always have to find something to blame for tragedies?    Why don’t they eat more vegetables here?     Why is every Sunday night evangelism night at church?     Why do sandwiches need ketchup and mayo?  Why do guys run outside in the rain and drive around on their motos looking for all their friends to “bathe in the rain” with them?     Why does someone have to stay at our house if we go away?   Why is it unacceptable to be barefoot even in the house?   Why can Dominican babies be lifted and carried by one arm and they never get nurse-maid’s elbow?   Why do they use injections for everything instead of pills?   Why can’t pregnant ladies eat potatoes?

I could write down at least one billion more questions or examples of what it’s like living outside my birth culture.     Then I start to think….imagine how it will be for my husband when we visit the States!   Why do Americans flush toilet paper?   Why do they eat so much meat?   Why don’t they greet people on the street?     Why do they waste so much money on pet food?   Why do they dress that way?   Why do they have to have dessert with lunch AND dinner?    What’s dessert anyway?

All the questions.   All the differences.   All the learning.   All the failing.

I arrived here just about 5 years ago ready to serve Jesus and change the world.   I don’t think I’ve changed very much at all, except maybe my heart and attitude.    (Wait- there’s one thing.  Our defibrillator in the OR stays plugged in 100% of the time.   That might be the only thing I’ve instituted that has stuck……)  Have I served Jesus?  I hope so.   I’ve seen lives changed by HIM.   I’ve seen Americans come down here and return to the States changed people.   I’ve seen Dominicans come to Jesus…but I’ve also seen a whole lot of Dominicans demonstrating Jesus to US, to ME, to other DOMINICANS.

It’s a great reminder to me that YES I have been called here.    I love what I do and I love serving how I get to serve.      It’s a joy and honor, mostly.     But man, despite me God has been working and changing hearts and transforming lives for ever and ever in the DR.   And THAT is the beauty of His Kingdom.    He doesn’t need me- He ALLOWS me to serve here.   I get to watch it all….unfolding and birthing and shining and rescuing.    Even when I’m tired and burnt out- that privilege isn’t lost on me.    The Kingdom…..in spanish.    I still love it.

Paramedic Program

Over the past 7 weeks, I have watched with great excitement as the First Paramedic Education class has been underway here in San Juan.  It has been an honor to be a part of it.   It's been even MORE awesome to see my husband enjoy and thrive in this environment of learning.   Graduation is this upcoming Friday and I can't wait to watch Monchy and the other students "take flight" with newly learned skills and abilities.   As some of you may know, my husband is a very energetic (!!!) animated learner.  He has already found patients (off duty....at a 5k race) in San Juan, leaped into an ambulance with them, and gone to the hospital seeking further care for the patients.  My favorite part of this story was hearing him describe about how GOOD it felt to KNOW what to do with a sick or hurt patient.   So very rewarding!  

Here in San Juan we don't have the 911 system as of yet but according to Public Health, it is coming.  We don't have set jobs yet for the students or a "national" certification but we feel good about capacitating these students for roles in EMS, whether it is in the hospital, in our current clinic, in the NEW clinic that we are building, or for private contracts with ambulance transport teams.   I have also been so impressed with our developing relationship with the Public Health administration in San Juan.    I have met people who are passionate for change and improvement and who have a love for the poor.  These folks want to see our program succeed, for the good of all in San Juan.   It will take time and we will need to be patient as the government develops their EMS system and a national definition of paramedic...but I can see it coming in the future.    Dr. Canario wants to employ a number of the paramedics in our new clinic in the future, which is also encouraging to know.

It's been a pleasure for me to get to know some of the students in the program.   Wascar has been an inspiring student from the very beginning.  I am including his blog post below.  I don't think I can "boost" the program in any way more than to show you his words.   Beautiful testimony.   Please continue to pray for the students as the program wraps up this week!   It has been a wonderful experience!

Wascar Valdez is an enthusiastic student of PEP, having never received any prior medical training. He openly shares about the strength that his Christian faith plays as a paramedic student in such a revolutionary and demanding program. His blog explains some of his most vulnerable moments on the first day of class as well as some of his proudest moments throughout his training

When I heard that there were trainers coming to teach a paramedic class, I investigated to find out who was in charge. Later on I found out that the doctor in charge was Dr. Canario. I talked to him, and he told me exactly what I had to do in order to be considered to be a student of the Paramedic Education Program.

The first day, the paramedic instructors gave me the items I would need for the class: text book, workbook, uniform, trauma scissors and stethoscope during the inauguration ceremony at Hotel Maguana. I took them and I went home because the course was starting on Monday after and they gave me the items on Friday. The hard part was on Sunday night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept wondering if I should go or not, because at the inauguration ceremony I saw that I was the oldest of the students and also that I didn´t know anything about medicine. I went to the classroom early on the first day of class, I was seated and the classmates that were going to follow the course started to arrive. The instructors were Mike and Nick and then we introduced ourselves. The instructors told us that we had to take a pretest. Right there I looked at the door way to go home, but I told myself I am going to stay, and I stayed. The exam of 75 questions began, and I saw that there were letter options for each question (A,B,C, or D). At the end of the exam I only had 13 correct answers.

Then the instructors began to teach the classes from the book and I started to pay attention to it, they always did a review quiz the day after. For the first review I got 6 correct out of 10 questions; then 4 out of 10, then 8 out of 10, then 9 out of 10, then 5 out of 10, then 9 out of 10 and that is how the study began. On Tuesday, June 16^th I earned 10 out of 10 for the first time! I was very happy, I have never had a grade like that before! The thing I liked the most is that the instructor Nick said, “I will give you a red star” because the review quiz were having a star if they passed with 7 or more correct and all my friends had but I have never had such a high grade to earn a red star.

Then the instructors Mike and Nick began to teach a lot about anatomy, lifting patients, intubation, how to start an IV, how to put gloves on and how to take them off, and so many other things. Jon came and taught us about EKG’s. The instructors Bill, Erik and Krista came and along with Mike and Nick taught us many ways of treating trauma injuries to the head and neck, chest and abdomen. I feel very well, that with God’s help, and also with the help of Mike, Nick, Jon, Erik, Krista and Bill, I will be able to be one of the very first paramedics to graduate in this country.

I have learned to intubate a patient and to perform CPR, to start an IV, to deliver oxygen, to splint, to administrate medicine like: epinephrine, and some others, to take the blood pressure, pulse, and respiration, to do the SAMPLE and OPQRST assessments.

On Friday’s of each week we go to the hospital emergency department to practice what we have learned, this is difficult. If I saw a person wounded or with a trauma, I was afraid, but thanks to God and to my instructors I have learned how to help wounded people! On Friday we had to take care of a 34 year old man that was taken to the hospital with a broken leg and my partner and I had to splint it, I did it like a pro, and that is the way we are going to perform our duties from now and on. On Saturday, Nick, Deivi and I had to enter the birth room at the hospital, we were present in two deliveries. One was made by the doctor and the other by Nick, and I was expected to do the next delivery that never arrived while at the hospital. I hope to deliver a baby next week.

Thank you a thousand times for what you have taught me and for your dedication. God and we, the people of San Juan de la Maguana appreciate it. I thank you forever Mike, Nick, Jon, Bill, Erik, Krista and Nicole among others.

- See more at: http://guesthouse.solidrockinternational.org/posts/uncategorized/week-5-of-the-paramedic-education-program/#sthash.WX7QsXk5.dpuf

May showers

It has FINALLY started raining in San Juan, about a month too late.  The topic on everyone's lips has been the severe drought, leading to hysteria over the dam going dry and San Juan losing all access to water in less than 2 months.  It really has been no joke.  The dam that supplies water to our town has been at an all time low.   Monch and I frequently have had no water inside of our apartment and have resorted to carrying in buckets from a spigot outside.  Of course this makes showering, toilet flushing, laundry and washing dishes So Much More Fun (that is sarcasm).  However,  the drops are beginning to fall and the hysteria is hopefully dying down.  And NOW I can start to plant more veggies in our yard which makes me very very happy.

In other very important personal news, Lazzy (our chick) is a girl.   Therefore Lararus isn't exactly a suitable name.  But it fits her and we are sticking to it.   Lazzy still isn't aware of her "chicken-ness" and believes she is a very small person, leading to strange behaviors such as attempting to sleep in our bed and attempting to eat off of our plates, etc.    It's the small things that lead to the richness in life, isn't it?  Laughing at our chicken is certainly one of them.

May has been a busy month for both Monchy and I.   We have barrio teams nearly every week, with groups arriving from several colleges such as Ohio Northern, Cleveland State, St. Francis, Southern Utah, etc.   I often wonder what lasting effects a mission trip can have on a college student.  I remember my first trip to Haiti when I was 18 years old.  It blew my mind wide open and I believe that it planted a seed that led to the life that I currently lead.   I sometimes wonder if some of the college students will be/could be teachers or social workers or nurses, doctors or surgeons that will come to the DR in 10 or so years to offer their services to our patients.   :)

And the Paramedic Program is underway!  It's been so very very exciting to watch this happen.   Monchy is a student in this very very intense program and  I was able to have a very small role in the planning.  I must say it is the most exciting program that I have had the honor of helping with in a long time.   Michael Trompak is the Paramedic Instructor working with EMT trainer Nick Maxwell and they are doing an awesome job with their 25 students.   It's a very intense program, with approximately a year of classes being combined in a 9 hour-a day 7 week time frame.    The paramedics also have clinicals in the public hospital here in San Juan and it's a great joy for me to see our organization and Dr. Canario working together with those in Public Health who affect decisions over the entire region.   So far Monchy is really enjoying the program along with 24 other students and they are learning an incredible amount of information.    We post pictures on our web site (www.solidrockinternational.org) as well as our Solid Rock Facebook page and Instagram account.    Check out these incredible innovations to healthcare here in San Juan.

In our free time we are often visiting family and friends.   Of special note recently were two visits to our friend Felix.  Felix has Huntington's Disease and is rapidly declining.   I visited him about 2 weeks ago and was really concerned about him.   However, I was able to connect him to a local pastor and I left feeling as though he had a bit more support around him.   We spent some time praying for him and the Pastor promised to check in on him.   Monchy went to see Felix last weekend.    He took him some groceries and reported that his spirits were much improved and that Felix felt that his medications were "working better".    Huntington's is a tough disease in the DR with very little support.  Please pray for Feliz and that he will be surrounded by love in these difficult times.

My other favorite patient is Baby Nicole and she is growing like a weed!  She's 4 years old and still can't wrap her head around the fact that we have the same name.  She continues to call me "Americana!".   Tragically both her 18 year old brother and her brother-in-law were killed in a motorcycle accident on Mother's Day weekend.   Laura and I spent Mother's Day morning sitting by Baby Nicole's mother as she grieved for her oldest son and her oldest daughter's husband.   It is beyond humbling for me to know that she stood up in the midst of the funeral to be sure that we were given tomatoes, sweet potatoes and mangos that they had picked for us during the week.     Gifts for ME in the middle of such profound sadness and weeping?   I just had no words.

And that is often my response here.  I have no words for many things that I see or experience or hear here.   I wish that I could share them with you- how my heart sings to see a mother breast-feeding her new baby, how triumphant I feel playing dominos with my elderly neighbors,  how Jesus speaks to me when the translators sing together,  how helpless I am when Feliz can't control his arms or legs and has to lie down to talk to me,   how terrified I am when we need blood at the clinic, how my tears slid down while I rubbed Baby Nicole's mother's shoulders as she cried at her son's funeral,  how loved I feel when my husband does the laundry,   how frustrated I get when another 15 year old has a c-section for no reason.....     Ahhhh life in the DR.   Many many times I have no words.

Recently I've realized that I'm approaching my 5 year mark here.  I have nearly 4 1/2 years living in the DR.   And I'm humbled by knowing how many of you have contributed to my ability to be here.   For 4 1/2 years you guys have walked this road with me, encouraging me, praying for me, sending cash and hair dye and M&Ms and birthday cards.    THANK YOU.   Again, words just don't do it.  In either language.  But THANK YOU.     I could never do this without you.   Or without Jesus.  He continues to sustain me in the tough moments and the tears...and in the celebrations.    May you feel His arms around you in all of your tears and celebrations too!

Lazzy

Bueno.   Far be it from me to brag...but I must announce that Monch and I are parents to a very small chicken.   We'd like to introduce Lazarus (Lazaro to those of you who speak Spanish and "Lazzy" when we are feeling sentimental) to the world.    Lazzy is the sole survivor of our attempt at animal husbandry.    He was born with 3 siblings and he's the only one left and just barely.  His mom decided she was done with him and attacked him and he's been with us ever since.  He actually doesn't KNOW that he's a chicken but that's okay.  

Photos below:

In other notes- April has been a "quieter" month overall.  We've had several weeks without teams and had a MAJOR spring cleaning at the GuestHouse/Pharmacy.   We "renovated" the entire Pharmacy and also Room 14, which is where my "work office" and extra meds are located.   Next up is of course the Scary Room.   That overhaul will take place this summer.   After the Scary Room, I'll finish up at the Clinic, where I hope to work on an overall inventory of supplies and equipment in preparation for the New Clinic.   Construction is moving FAST on the new land (see Jeff's blog, as well as Ken Potter's blog for updated info on the new clinic!) and they will begin to pour cement hopefully this week.   May is a month full of our college teams, which is really fun.  They are super  passionate and eager to serve and we have several team weeks that are so full that we will set sail to TWO barrio sites every day.   Next week we will begin to visit the sites in preparation for the mobile clinics.

Good stuff going on with SRI- we have started a Creole class! Pastor Enol is teaching the translators (and me sometimes too!) Creole in order to better serve our Haitian neighbors in the mobile clinics.  My mind is already full of a jumble of Spanish and English but I'm going to try to throw some extra Creole words in there as well.  Photo below of our FUN class!  :)

Blood.  I can't tell you how stressful I sometimes feel at our clinic with no blood bank.   GYN surgery is often the most difficult because of the anemia that we see in our patients.  Most patients are asked to find blood via a family member before surgery but not everyone has success in their search.   Below is a shot of our very GIVING Nef  (more than a translator!)....giving up his blood for a surgical patient.  Laura also donated (in the nick of time, actually!) but I don't have a picture of her in the lab.   Sometimes teams laugh for a minute when I ask them what blood type they are upon arrival.  Oh the things that we have to think of here!  I miss the days of making a quick phone call to the blood bank to ask for a unit of blood.   Please note that Nef is still wearing his scrubs because he went right back to the OR to translate for the surgeon after he donated blood.

Personally I'm enjoying my quiet times at our little apartment.   I love our patio and my plants outside and have recently tried to plant vegetables, zinnias, herbs, and sunflowers!  My neighbors think that I'm nuts as I wander around with my watering can in the mornings while Lazzy flies around my feet.  We also have a tiny mango tree, some papaya trees/plants (with fruit on them!), a lemon or lime tree, some guanabana trees,  lots of chinola vines (some with fruit!),  and some type of peas that grow up our bedroom windows.  Although our patio is small, it's brimming with life!    On our back patio are our 4 hens and one rooster...it's LOUD here in the mornings!

Marriage is an adventure with my favorite adventurer!  Our best times together remain the very simplest of things...visiting friends and family together and sometimes walking together on Tuesday nights at the track across the street.   We are looking forward to a Solid Rock staff retreat next weekend in Jarabacoa at a hostel that we stayed at on our honeymoon.    Monchy will be starting in the Paramedic Program in several weeks as he finishes up his semester at the university.

This ministry thing continues to amaze me.  It's HARD and beautiful at the same time.  We struggle at the difficulty of working with real live broken folks who fumble and soar at the same time, just like we do.    Recently I participated in a woman's spiritual retreat with Kari, Laura, and Kamanda here.   There were about 50 million things that I soaked in and want to remember and share but 3 big points remain on my heart this morning.   One is to RECEIVE.  One is to FOLLOW (Jesus!).  And the last is to REST.   We were supposed to release things in our lives that prevent those 3 points.   Needless to say, I am still releasing!  And will continue to do so.  The retreat also spoke about expectations, our expectations of ourselves, of others, of God and then God's expectations of US.  That just blew me away.  It turns out I have tons of expectations...for me, for others (HELLO husband! hahaha!),  and for God.   Lots of stuff to release...and I'm still working on that.   For those ladies who may be interested in a retreat...check out velvet ashes.com.   Fabulous fabulous experience.  

Thanks for all the prayers, dear friends.   They are FELT and celebrated.   Over the next several months I will begin (again!) the process of paperwork to be a legal resident of the DR.  As you may know, this has been a very difficult and costly journey and still hasn't been resolved.   I am not attempting to become a citizen but only a legal resident.   I would greatly appreciate your prayers in this matter.    Other prayer requests include strength for the journey (May will be very busy!),  continued growth in our marriage,  the ability to find quality time together for Monch and I,  the continued search for Christian support and community here in San Juan, and continued safety (we never take travel and/or commuting here for granted) and health.   I feel like I state this a million times...but I would never be here except for the love, prayers, and financial support of you guys.   THANK YOU for believing in God's work here!  

Palm Sunday and Easter....and stuff that i miss

I would hope that you all know that I love living in the DR.  I love the culture, ALMOST all of it.  But there are days and times that I miss my life in the States terribly.    It goes without stating that family and friends are missed greatly.   But man,  Lent/Palm Sunday/Easter and Christmas are times during the year that I miss home ALOT.    Our traditions.  The sacredness of the Church services.  The music and songs and smells.   Today on Palm Sunday, I'm sitting in my lil apartment, listening to the motorcycles outside, preparing to pick some of my peas to cook for lunch with rice,  hoping our chickens will shut up soon,   finishing up an oatmeal breakfast, and I'm a little sad.   I'm sad because   I'm not sitting at Maple Grove watching all of the kids walk in with palm branches waving in the air.   We aren't singing the same songs, the same hymns together.    Those are the songs and the hymns that I grew up on.   I probably won't hear a sermon about the PREPARATION, the triumphant entry into Jerusalem, the excitement of the disciples thinking THIS IS IT- Here comes the King and we are At.His.Side for the Big Show to begin.    All the dreams, all the hopes of the people...pinned on Jesus the Conquerer, not Jesus the Lamb.    Jesus- riding in on a donkey, fulfilling prophecies and dreams,  hearing the shouts of the people HOSANNA.    Sigh.  I miss it.

Below a list of Palm Sunday quotes that I found to celebrate on my own- the triumphant entrance.

• Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout, daughter of Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you; righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey." - Zechariah 9:9

Matt 21: 8-11 Most of the crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. And the crowds that went before him and that followed him were shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!” And when he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred up, saying, “Who is this?” And the crowds said, “This is the prophet Jesus, from Nazareth of Galilee.”

• "And you shall take to you on the first day the fruits of the fairest tree, and branches of palm trees, and boughs of thick trees, and willows of the brook: And you shall rejoice before the Lord your God." – Leviticus 23:40
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• "Jesus found a donkey and sat upon it, as Scripture says: Do not fear, city of Zion! See, your king is coming, sitting on the colt of a donkey!" - John 12:14
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• The next day the large crowd that had come to the feast heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem. So they took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, crying out, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel!” And Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it, just as it is written, “Fear not, daughter of Zion; behold, your king is coming, sitting on a donkey's colt!”- John 12
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• "When Christ entered into Jerusalem the people spread garments in the way: when He enters into our hearts, we pull off our own righteousness, and not only lay it under Christ's feet but even trample upon it ourselves." - Augustus Toplady
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• "No pain, no palm; no thorns, no throne; no gall, no glory; no cross, no crown." - William Penn
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• "But Palm Sunday tells us that ... it is the cross that is the true tree of life." - Pope Benedict XVI
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• "Palm Sunday is like a glimpse of Easter. It's a little bit joyful after being sombre during Lent." - Laura Gale
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• "Lord, we lift up your name. With hearts full of praise; Be exalted, O Lord my God! Hosanna in the highest!" - Carl Tuttle
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• "Alleluia, how the people cheer and palm leaves rustle as the king draws near." - John Beavis

Oh and the music....the hymns...  Here it comes.. Are you guys singing these songs in the States today?  

All Hail King Jesus, All Hail the Power of Jesus Name, All Glory Laud and Honor, Blessed Be The Name of the Lord, Blessed is He, You Reign, Hosanna (Hillsong's Hosanna In The Highest- our wedding song!),  Majesty, The Revelation Song, Worthy You are Worthy, You are Crowned with Many Crowns..and many many more, plus a personal fave that I remembered this morning,  The Love of God.   I read the words to this song and could HEAR Dorothy and Anna and my Dad singing it in the pew in front of me at Maple Grove Mennonite on a cool Palm Sunday morning while the kids waved their branches and we stood and sang in 4 part harmony.   

The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen can ever tell;
It goes beyond the highest star,
And reaches to the lowest hell;
The guilty pair, bowed down with care,
God gave His Son to win;
His erring child He reconciled,
And pardoned from his sin

Oh, love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure—
The saints’ and angels’ song.

When years of time shall pass away,
And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall,
When men who here refuse to pray,
On rocks and hills and mountains call,
God’s love so sure, shall still endure,
All measureless and strong;
Redeeming grace to Adam’s race—
The saints’ and angels’ song.

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.

Uff- I can't even sing it without tears filling my eyes.  The Love of God.  For me.  The triumphant entrance.  For me.  And throughout this week...the preparation.  The triumph and the pain.  The blood and the cross.  The empty tomb and a Risen Savior.   I won't celebrate it here like I do in Pennsylvania.  There won't be lilies everywhere, filling my nose with the most fabulous aroma.  There won't be peanut butter eggs here, or ham and macaroni.   There won't be Easter baskets or egg hunts or new dresses or hats.   On Easter Sunday next week, there won't be folks saying "He Is Risen" and me responding (in english at least!) "He Is Risen Indeed".  There won't be a somber Good Friday service ending in darkness as we prepare to Wait.  Wait.  Wait.  Because Sunday IS COMING.   There won't be sunrise services with sacred quiet on Sunday morning waiting until we can leap for joy that the Tomb. Is. Empty.   HE'S ALIVE.  

Nope.  I won't have that here.  It's different.  I'll look for it in other ways.   I'll  maybe have a Seder meal with Dan and Kari and Laura and our hubbies and crew.   We'll celebrate Passover and Easter differently.   I'll think of Ken Umble singing He's Alive on Easter Sunday back home and I'll WISH MYSELF there to hear it.   But here's the thing.  I don't know if it matters how we celebrate it because IT ALL HAPPENED ANYWAY.   It doesn't take away from the fact that Easter Sunday means all of my faith has culminated in the Resurrection of the Living Savior.   I get emotional about the traditions, my culture, and how much I miss it.  But my emotions don't make it more important to the world.   LIVING my faith out, living and knowing EVERY DAY is Resurrection Day is where it's at.  And in that way, this Dominican culture is awesome with Easter.   That is what they believe about Christmas AND Easter.  EVERY DAY is a reason to celebrate Christ's Birth.  Christmas on December 25 isn't such a big deal then.  And EVERY DAY is a reason to celebrate His Death and Resurrection.    So maybe Easter Sunday doesn't seem to be such a big deal here either.  It's not my culture- but it's maybe more important every day here.  It's true.  

So I'm taking a deep breath and listening to The Love of God and reading Matthew and John and cutting a few palm fronds to put on my kitchen table.   And I'll think of eating habichuelas dulce this week and getting together with my Dominican family and laughing at adults sitting in their kiddie pools in the street.   And it'll be okay.   It'll actually be great.  But guys, somebody eat a peanut butter egg for me.  If you are celebrating or have celebrated Passover, let your soul resonate in the sacredness of the Holy Supper.  And when when you enter your churches in the States...full of the intoxicating scents of the lilies...celebrate BIG.  Wave your palm fronds BIG.  Sing LOUDLY.  Not because it makes Palm Sunday and Easter more important for ONE DAY.  But because Jesus and His Resurrection is important EVERY DAY.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k6B_jYtjvME

* everyone hold onto your hats- I just posted a GAITHER video.  This means I am old.  It's from possibly the 80's, based on hairdos.  However-  the harmony reminds me of the MG (Maple Grove) and I love my peoples there.   Carry on- it's a beautiful song.