Reflecting on the Dominican: Arrival

I would like to take my next few entries to reflect on my recent trip to the Dominican Republic. It was my first time out of the country, other than the Canadian side of Niagra Falls, and my first real mission trip. What made the trip all the more enjoyable is that I got to go with some of my favorite people: my mother, my brother, and Marie.

Arrival

February 23, 4:30AM I'm awoken by my phone alarm. I've been up late catching up on NBC's Thursday night line up, so the alarm received even more scorn than it already was for going off at this horrific hour. I roll out of bed, take a quick pee, load up the car, and then I'm off to the airport.

Check in is quick, which makes sense. Who would choose to fly at the butt crack of dawn if a later flight is available? Nonetheless the whole crew arrives shortly and we head to the plane.

Efforts to sleep were not successful. We had a layover in Newark anyways, so the first flight was barely an hour long. Too tire to read, I pulled out my ipod and let Mumford and Sons keep me occupied until we reached the garden state.

Getting off the plane in Newark we found ourselves in a mini food court, and only about a hundred yards from our connecting flight. Time for breakfast. Everyone in our group grabbed either a bagel or some stromboli. I had both. If we are only going to have rice and beans for a week I might as well splurge a little before we get there, right?

While we eat my brother arrives at the airport. Since he lives in NYC he was able to catch a train to the airport and got to sleep a little more than the rest of us. He grabs a quick bite and soon the start seating people for our flight into the Dominican. That's when our first snag hit.

Marie didn't have a seat. The flight was overbooked and everyone was able to get on the plane, except Marie. They told her they would ask if anyone would volunteer to let her have their seat, which my brother was prepared to do, however no one ever asked. So, about 30 minutes later seven out of the eight were headed for the Dominican.

Marie handled the situation well. Continental put her up in a hotel, paid for her meals, and gave her $500 towards plane tickets. It was the least they could do. When Marie arrived the next day she did not seem to put off by the experience, although she did have considerably less to read for the remainder of the trip.

The flight down was not so bad. Its a four hour trip, but the plane comes equipped with direct TV, and with a swipe of your credit card you can stay tuned for the entire trip. Thanks to my brother I was able to lose myself in cartoons. It was so comforting I even managed to doze off a few times. Then my brother rapped me on the head and told me he didn't pay for the TV so I could sleep.

After about an hour in flight breakfast was served. And like a true glutton I ate all of the glorious nastiness of what they called an egg sandwich. My brother tried to trade me his sandwich for my fruit, but I realized I needed something healthy and declined. If the food in the Dominican was bad, I had stored up enough fat that morning to last me a week.

Before long the plane was landing, and everyone cheered. People were shedding winter coats and sweatshirts to reveal tank tops and t-shirts. Boots were traded for flip flops, and pant legs were rolled up to the knee. As you get off the plan you are greeted by a Dominican mariachi band with a tip jar. My brother throw in some US dollars. Apparently he approved of this welcoming committee.

After winding through several hallways, going outside and back in, we arrive to a booth where we pay $10 to get into the country, but right next to the booth is a lady dishing out free samples of rum and coke. This is more the kind of welcoming committee I was looking for.

A man named Kojo picked us up form the airport in a big, white bus van and took us to a store down the road to change our dollars to pesos. Then we were back on the road, and in about five minutes we were pulling into Saman. It was a bit overwhelming. Suddenly we find ourselves immersed in this barrio, with not a single familiar face, and complete strangers are leading us to our home for the week.

The house was not quite what I was expecting. We were told we were staying in a community center, which this place may have been, but it was simply two rooms with a bathroom in between, and other than a couple bunk beds, mattresses on the floor and a small table, there was no furniture.

The rest of that day was just a chill day. We relaxed, unpacked, and started talking to the locals. Although there was not many who spoke English, and the few who did did not speak it well. Nonetheless, connections were being made.

Before dinner we explored the nearby town a bit. Some fresh pineapple and El Presidentes were acquired. I've never had such good pineapple in my entire life, and I'm doubtful I ever will. And the El Presidente wasn't too bad either.

Dinner was served around seven and was fantastic. If memory serves me right we had a stew with chicken and beans and other vegetables with rice, and fried plantains. An excellent first meal. After that we all went in for an early night. We were all exhausted, and we needed as much time as we could get to adjust to sleeping in Saman.

Taste and See

When I don't know what I want to read I tend to go to a random psalm. It works sometimes, but is hardly something that should be done instead of a regular reading plan. However this method recently brought me to Psalm 34, which is popular among the Church of the Brethren for verse 14, "Seek peace, and pursue it." But it also has this little nugget in verse 8,

"Oh, taste and see that the LORD is good!"

What does that mean? I'm sitting here trying to wrap my brain around this verse. What is the metaphor that David was going for?

Carrots. Taste gross, but I know they are good for me.

Doughnuts. Taste awesome, but are slowly killing me.

So I am not sure that this has to do with health.

Perhaps its more about enjoyment. Perhaps David is saying "Try God. Just try a little taste. You'll like it." How else do we know if we like a food but to taste it. Yes, it seems more clear now. Try God. Get a little bit on your tongue. Isn't that nice? Don't you want some more? Yes, please.

Cooking with Beer

Earlier this week I made beer bread. It turned out alright, but I think it could have used a little more time in the oven as it turned out a bit doughy in the middle. The recipe was pretty simple. Here it is if you want to try it.

3 cups flour
1/2 cup sugar
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 cup grated cheddar cheese
12 oz. bock or lager

Combine all ingredients and bake for 1/2 hour at 350 in a greased loaf pan.

I used Boston Lager for my beer. Next time I might go with a lighter beer, and try baking it for a bit longer. If you try this let me know.

Later today I'm making pancakes that call for beer. I'll be sure to post how that goes.

As far as the East from the West

Pslam 103:12 reads, "As far as the east from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us" (ESV).

Struggling with habitual sin is something so many deal with, myself included. It is easy to feel unclean and unworthy of God when this sin starts to take control and we feel helpless to break free of it. We grow weary of coming before God time and time again as we plea for forgiveness and for help to be rid of this heavy burden. "Lord, I've failed again." My friend Steve pointed out last night, that if that verse above is true then God's response might be, "Again?"

God has already separated us from our sin before, and he can do it again. Even in our lowest moments, when we feel that we have wandered too far, a fresh start is available; God is ready to separate us from our sin again. Thank God for that.

Recently I've seen friends on both sides of this. I have friends who are self-loathing, feeling worthless and undeserving of God's love and grace. It sucks. At the same time I am excited to see my friends who are crying out to God for a revival of their heart. The excitement they have for God is contagious and you can't help but want to glorify Him when you are around them.

In myself, as I struggle with the same sins over and over again I have to keep reminding myself the God can and does separate me from my sins. My favorite verse of any song goes "My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought, my sin, not in part but the whole, is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more! Praise the LORD! Praise the LORD, oh my soul!" What comfort it brings to know that there is nothing I can do to separate myself from the love of God.

Friends, what has been bringing you comfort lately?

Christmas Card

Here is our Christmas Card. Click it to make it bigger.

Leaves

City Park is just two blocks away, and with free internet there I find myself making up to 3 trips a day. Its nice.

The leaves colors are changing, oranges and reds and yellows bursting forth, screaming "Chlorophyll be damned! I am not green!"

I wonder if perhaps this is the only time of year when we get to see the leaves true colors. If they did not depend on photosynthesis I suspect they'd be this color all year. Can the leaves sense that their time is almost through? Perhaps they are saying, "No more hiding, I'm the color of rust. If you don't like that you can go to Hell. I'll be dead and gone soon anyway."

Leaves live a short life, arriving in April, gone in October. Barely making it 6 months. I'd probably be bitter too.

Do leaves believe in reincarnation? Do they say to one another, "Being a maple leaf has been nice, but I hope I can come back as an elm, or a sassafras." What do they think of pine needles? I imagine they call them pretty nasty names.

As much of jerks as I am making out leaves to be towards others, I would guess that they are still pretty kind to their brothers and sisters on the same tree. They probably have endearing names for each other, like "Leafy" and "The Leafinator." When one of them falls off the tree, or gets eaten by a bug, I imagine they have long moments of silence. Perhaps the rustling of the trees is not the leaves rubbing each other, but the leaves crying over their lost brothers and sisters.

Fall is nice. The temperature is comfortable, the colors are stunning. Pumpkin finds its way into all these foods it leaves well enough alone the rest of the year. I am ready for it all.

Merry Autumn friends.

Book It

Today I was approached by a math teacher I know in Fostoria. He saw that I had a novel in my hands and said, "You actually like reading?" "Yeah, I love it." "Whats the point if you aren't getting information from it?"

Rather than explaining the joys of fiction or telling him about the importance of story or daring him to walk down to the English hallway say that, I just shrugged and smirked. I did have class going on and students to attend to. But still, even if reading is not your thing, how can you not at least see that there is value to it?

Today I finished my 8th book this year (9th if you count the audio book I listened to). My little sister has probably read twice as many. Reading is just so good. Through stories we can tap into emotions often neglected, challenge our world view, laugh out loud with no one around, increase our effectiveness of communication, and do so many other things my friend Melissa would likely be ecstatic to list.

Donald Miller recently wrote on his blog about the importance of reading. In that he talked about how few Americans read beyond the requirements of education, and that if you read only one book after college you are already further ahead than the majority of Americans. What the butt?

Here is my proposed solution. Bring back Book It for adults. When I was in first grade I got stickers for every book I read, and every so many stickers got you a free personal pan pizza. If book reports meant free food, that might be enough to get some more people reading, or at least further reward those who already do.

Anyway, what are your thoughts on reading? Or what are you reading? I just finished "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" and loved it. I would love to hear from you.