I spent this morning raking leaves in a Romanian woman’s garden.
Actually, I was using a hoe to scrape up damp, compacted layers of leaves from the surface of the ground so that we could put them in piles and relocate those piles to another pile in a distant corner of the yard.
It’s mundane work like this that typically becomes prime breeding ground for revelation. As my mind drifted toward thoughts that lived beyond the shallow end, I pictured myself working alongside Jesus Himself, hoeing away at the ground. I wondered, if I could have a conversation with Him right now, in person, what would I want to talk about?
My memory hearkened back to a certain Panera date with Him several months before. As I camped out at one of those four-person tables near the window, reading my Bible and sipping hazelnut coffee, I was captivated by John 14:17 – “But you know [the Spirit of truth], for he lives with you and will be in you.” I sat, paralyzed by epiphany, wondering what it would be like to actually live in that truth all the time. What if I really believed that the Holy Spirit, the presence of Jesus, lived with me and in me at every moment? What would it be like to sit across the table from Him now, enjoying the liquid byproduct of what must be His favorite plant as well, chatting about life?
“Alright, Jesus, let's get in line and order our sandwiches… You want a Bacon Turkey Bravo?”
“Someone needs a ride to church today? Jesus and I’ve got that.”
And what would it be like if someone came up to our table and just ripped into me, tearing me up and down about something that may or may not have been true, and would I care about it at all if Jesus were sitting right there with me? Would that person’s opinion of my value even matter to me if I had the Lord sitting right there, pouring His love and grace and affirmation and life into my soul?
There have been a lot of spiritual conversations, full of spiritual questions, floating around the mission house here lately. The questions have been eye-opening and faith-wrenching, but – Lord willing – fruitful. Questions about prayer, healing, how God speaks and how and why He does or doesn’t answer… Good, challenging things. Things I’ve been wrestling with, knowing I will come out blessed.
But, as I thought about Jesus and I spending our quality time with a hoe, I knew that asking Him those questions wouldn’t be important to me. In fact, I don't think I would want to say much at all. I would just soak it all in. Enjoy the mundane labor of the day-to-day with Him. Ask Him, “So, what do you think about everything? Romania, the world, the questions we spend so much time fretting about… I don’t know, everything?”
And I would just want to be like Mary, sitting at His feet, listening to Him talk for hours, absorbing as much Truth as I could possibly hold… then following Him around like a toddler, desiring only to be around Him, resting in the confidence that He didn’t think I was obnoxious. Knowing that He was enjoying that time just as much as I was.
As far as free amenities go, Turkish Airlines wins. My travel experience from New York to Istanbul included two delicious meals, a fantastic movie selection, and a neat little pouch filled with all kinds of necessities like a toothbrush (especially convenient once we realized our bags would be delayed indefinitely), toothpaste, earplugs, an eye mask, lip balm, and pretty green socks. My seat buddies were two highly considerate Turkish men who weren’t bothered at all by having to get up at least four times to let me go to the bathroom over the course of the flight. And given the amount of water, tea, and coffee I had consumed over those nine hours, I was highly grateful.
On pretty much every flight I have ever taken, I would rather say almost no words to the people sitting next to me, unless they are attractive males my age-ish. That was my plan on this one as well, until my seatmates decided they wanted to be my friends. Our topics of conversation included, but were not limited to…
…observing differences between Americans and Turks:
“Your people are unhappy. And they all have pets. And they put all their happiness in their pets. In Turkey, we have neighbors, and we talk to them and eat with them. Your people don’t talk to their neighbors. It’s very bad.”
…explaining the World Race and reasons I actually trust these people:
“You just met these people, and you trust them? If you were my daughter, I would not let you go.”
…discussing differences (and similarities) between Islam and Christianity:
“We remember God a lot because we pray to Him 5 times a day. Not everyone is like you. They don’t believe in God, or they only remember Him 1 day a week.”
It was the first time I had talked about my faith extensively with someone who didn’t believe me. It was great and hard and stretching and enjoyable... and essentially inconclusive.
Throughout the course of our discussion, they told me I ought to read Rumi’s Mathnawi. I had been reading through my paperback copy of Donald Miller’s Searching for God Knows What for the second time, and I felt like God was telling me to give it to them. It’s one of my very favorite books, bearing marks of love and evidence of time spent with various underlines and comments scribbled in the margins. I didn’t want to lose it, so I told God that if they asked about the book while I was reading it, I would give it up. After about twenty minutes, of course, one of them asked.
It led to a very involved discussion about Jesus. How my new friend sees Him as a great man, a wonderful messenger from Allah, as a prophet—but not as God. I talked about how Christians see Him as so much more than a messenger: the Son of God, the sacrifice for our sins… the only way to get to heaven. How God knew that just doing enough good things wouldn’t cut it, so He made another way for us to be with Him. How He took our punishment for us. The meaning of the Cross. The necessity of it. The reason it saves us.
And that was hard, because who really enjoys telling people that what they believe isn’t true? That, according to my religion, your religion isn’t enough?
So we made a deal. I would read his book about Sufism and inner purity, and he would read my book about how Jesus is all that matters. We promised to exchange thoughts via contact info we had swapped in the beginning of it all. He said he would be open. And I said ‘yes’ to that.
The other invited me over to his family’s house in Turkey once I finished the Race in December.
“No, I can’t. I have to go home in December.”
“What? Why can’t you come in December?”
“Because it will be a year since I’ve seen my family! I have to go see my family first.”
“Okay. Well, next year, then.”
“We’ll see.”
And I sincerely hope we do.
Well, we’re down to our final week in Haiti. It’s amazing how fast time has flown over the past 2 months. When I think about when I left my house in Oklahoma at 5:30am on that chilly January morning, though, it almost seems like a lifetime ago. And I guess, in a sense, it was.
Our month in the DR was entirely relational, filled with home cooked meals at church members’ homes, playing with rowdy kids, teaching English and Bible stories for the Compassion International school, church services, and an embarrassment of coffee. While it drove us crazy to not be able to get anywhere in any efficient amount of time, I was always floored by the kindness and love extended by those who barely knew us but called us brothers and sisters anyway. Pretend Time became the norm, and it wasn’t unusual to hear, ‘You’re leaving already?’ when we had already been sitting in someone’s living room for 2.5 hours. We went there to serve, and I think we at least provided a break for the Compassion teachers, and a few laughs and fun times for Noky and the church folk – but we were definitely the ones who got served. My team has agreed that we couldn’t have started the Race better off. 
This month, however, has looked a little different. Johnfrank (watch his videos - they're awesome) summed it up well in a conversation one day: “We spent last month pouring into people, and we’re spending this month pouring into the ground.” We minister with bricks, concrete, and broken Creole. We love the Haitian staff workers who cook for and clean up after us, and we’ve made a few friends with workers and school kids on the construction site, but we keep to ourselves for the most part. Scratches and cement burns have become the norm in the life of our group of 45 (which is an adventure in itself). All passive-aggressive hell breaks loose when it comes to the shower line and food portions, and alone time is scarce.
It’s been a hard month for me. But God has been dealing lovingly and graciously with my exhausted and introverted little soul, and I am now thankful for this opportunity to connect with other people on the squad. In light of the craze, I’ve needed every verse I’ve so conveniently “come across” about fear, peace, and being loved by the Father. Thank God there is a God. 
All that said, moments of greatness exist here as well:
Each Sunday night, they let our squad run an English service from preaching to worship (I’ve even gotten to sing!).We picked up a free puppy while walking through town with the pastor’s daughter one day, and now Bailey lives with us at the compound.I celebrated my 24th birthday (a little different than my 23rd) with the squad a couple of weeks ago, and my teammates performed a special “birthday rap” written just for me. And Michelle fashioned my name out of spare wire.One little 14-year-old girl named Denise from Hands and Feet Orphanage knows me by name, and it’s always fun to see her in passing at every place we frequent.It’s also been cool to work alongside other Americans (short- and longterm missionaries alike) and hear about their hearts for this country. Husband and wife Lex (Haitian) and Renee (American) began MOHI and have such passion and influence for and on the Grand-Goave community. Kim, our ministry coordinator, loves Jesus, construction, and Haiti a lot, and she has the sweetest dreadlocks I’ve ever seen. Travis was called to Haiti after the 2010 earthquake to do construction and disaster relief training, and he’s staying until God calls him somewhere else. Another Haitian and American married couple, Gama and Angela, are planning on being the longterm on-site missionaries at the Be Like Brit Orphanage once it’s constructed. Super neat.
So here we are, with only 3 full days left before heading out to Romania! Please pray for physical, emotional, and spiritual refreshment as we wrap up this last week during. Also, for safe travels and sanity as we travel for a very, very long time this weekend. Merci!
Our squad arrived in Grand-Guave, Haiti on Saturday after a long day of bus rides and customs lines. We’re all (yep, all 45 of us) camping (yep, the tent kind) on a compound/beachfront respite from real life. I pitched my tent on a grassy knoll underneath a mango tree, and it isn’t unusual to hear them pelting my piti piti (little) canvas home throughout the course of the day. As I write this, the sun is setting over the Caribbean Sea, and the waves are crashing on the shore about 50 yards away from me. At a breezy 75ish degrees, the weather couldn’t be more perfect for an evening in mid-February. A few girls are singing and playing guitar out on the beach, one of my teammates is practicing her Creole with one of the Haitian kids, and the rest of us are hanging out in the shacoon (round pavilion thingy in the middle of the property) with blogs to write or books to read or hammocks to nap in. 
I no longer get to hear “Americana, americana!” accompanied with hissing and staring, but instead get followed around and pointed at by children yelling, “You! You!” I’ve finally given up my personal space issues, as they aren’t conducive to the Haitian kiddos, who have none. They grab your hands and jump into your arms and stroke your hair as if your body isn’t your own, but it’s all good. They’re sweet for the most part, and they even speak a little English, so trying to communicate is a little easier than last month. The guys who help around the compound are also very enthusiastic about teaching us Creole, so my vocabulary has been expanding little by little. 
This month we’re working side-by-side with Mission of Hope International, an organization based here in Grand-Guave. They run a community center sort of area that includes a church, school, and lots of drinkable water from spickets (yay!). They also partner with Hands and Feet Project and Be Like Brit, an orphanage currently being constructed. The church, though mostly Haitian, includes people from all over the world, so they tried to disperse as many English translators (a.k.a. the youth of the church) as possible among us on Sunday. It’s really nice, knowing that we have the opportunity to understand a service again.
For the last several days, our teams have been helping to construct a new school (to replace the one that got destroyed in the earthquake) in the middle of the community center, clean up their library, organize item donations, assist in their pharmacy, and cleaning/renovating things around the compound (also owned by MOHI). It’s sweaty, sunburny work, but it’s been fun to do it with people from the other teams. I’ve also enjoyed having a role that is a little more task-oriented than people-oriented, since I like things that are well-defined and cater to my “thinker” personality type. 
Every World Race team is required to have a feedback session once a day. Each teammate receives positive (stuff they did well) and constructive (stuff they need to work on) feedback from each of the other teammates. Unlike most everyone else, it’s one of my favorite parts of the day. With that comes the onslaught of people approval issues for me, though. God has really been challenging me lately to remember that my worth and identity are all in Him, in His thoughts of me, in what He sees me do – regardless of what others see. He’s been continually reminding me not to do the work for the positive feedback – it’s all for Him, not for the praise and approval of my teammates. Keeping that mindset isn’t easy around a group of 45 people, when it’s more difficult to have a noticeable presence without doing something awesome. But I guess the flipside of that is that you can’t please everyone. So do it for an audience of One.
As always, thank you for the love and prayers and support in all the ways. Our Internet access is essentially limited to once every 8 days, so I’ll do my best to keep up with each of your comments and Facebook posts. Please keep up your prayers for our safety and health and overall vitality, as the heat has been taking a toll on a lot of us. Thanks, thanks, thanks!
We visited a woman named Rosa the other day. She was a very small woman. Her dress was modest, and her voice was timid.
But her prayers were not.
The woman prays with a vengeance. She knows God will heal her swollen, injured ankle. She proclaims healing over herself in Jesus’ Name. Again and again and again. I think I would have stopped after a few times. But she believes with everything in her that God is with her and that He will heal her.
We prayed for her too. We prayed with passion, conviction, tears. We asked God to bring healing. We asked for a miracle. We knew He was big enough, strong enough, powerful enough. We had faith. We knew God could heal Rosa.
But He didn’t. We left, not faithless, but disappointed and full of questions nonetheless.
How do we deal with those kinds of things? With things requested in faith, but not received? At what point should we transition from pleas for merciful healing to confident proclamations of, ‘Get up and walk’? And when that time does come, how do we handle that not happening?
Our team talked about this for awhile that night. It was a great discussion, but it was another one of those where we didn’t land anywhere. And you can’t, really. Not with those kinds of questions. Our desires and expectations don’t necessarily reflect His. What can you do, then, except to accept that some things are just beyond our knowledge and understanding, trusting that… well, He knows?
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. Isaiah 55:8-9
Dominicans don’t function on real time. It’s fine for the most part, as long as you start factoring 30 minutes-2 hours into whatever you plan on doing. Really, you should just plan on not having a plan altogether.
For example, we needed a few more things for dinner one night, so Matt and Rachel went out with Noky, our contact, to buy them in town. It should have only taken 10-15 minutes; but instead of going straight to the store, Noky took them to his house, where they all chilled on the couch and drank tea and talked with his family and read books to his nephew and generally had no idea what was going on for 45 minutes. Then they went to the store, which, as expected, took 10-15 minutes.
I once dedicated an entire day to laundry. Rachel and I hauled the team’s dirty ropas over to Noky’s to use their washer and dryer, only to find out that their electricity wouldn’t be coming on for another hour. So, as is their custom, we camped out on their porch, drank coffee, and talked to the family. The power still wasn’t on 2 (or so) hours later, so Noky’s 5-year-old nephew, Daivid, suggested we take their washer to the church, since we had power there. No big deal. We just had the Mosaic men come on over and carry the washer down the street, through the “town square”, and into the church. Where there was no power. So we washed our clothes by hand. Inside the washer. Nice.
Pretend Time allowed us to spend about 6 hours (instead of the expected 2-3) in a desolate mountain town with no church presence. Noky’s initial desire was that we all walk up there (I wore flip flops – who knew it was a hike rather than a casual stroll?) and pray over the town and its abandoned church building. Since Noky knows everyone on the face of the Dominican Republic, however, we ended up stopping by several homes and, of course, sitting down and eating/drinking rice/beans/coffee/juice. Three of us met a guy who allowed us to pray for him and his family. (We ended up running into him 2 more times that day.) We met another woman named Madera, who had an injured foot and lived alone most of the time. In spite of her poverty and limited mobility, she offered us bowls of hot arroz y habichuelas and expressed her thankfulness for how God had blessed her. We prayed for her foot and left, humbled.
I’m actually a huge fan of Pretend Time. The American way of rushing from one thing to another, always pressed for time and focusing on what’s ahead, is exhausting. It minimizes the present, adding pressure to you or the people you’re with to wrap it up as soon as possible so they won’t keep you from anything important. It’s different here. Relationships, the present, the situation at hand – those are given priority over the next thing. Enjoy where you are. It’s okay. Be thankful for this moment. Don’t worry about the next one before it’s time.
That’s something else I’ve noticed. All the believers here are so thankful. Their prayers are full of fervent praise and thanksgiving for everything God has done for them. Those with injuries and barely a bowl of rice and beans to their name live and breathe a spirit of thanksgiving, a spirit of worship, the Spirit of God. God gave them a life to live, and they don’t take it for granted.
Hola, y Dio te bendiga! We’ve been in the beautiful, hot, mountainous Dominican Republic since Friday, the 13th. Thankfully, the day’s events didn’t correspond with superstition, and we had a nice and smooth travel day. From our hike from the church where we stayed during Launch to the bus station at 6am, to the train, to the shuttle, to the airport, it was an exhausting but great day.
Team Mosaic’s ministry site is at a church in Arroyo Cano, Dominican Republic, where roosters crow all day (and night) long, natives never get “peopled out”, used toilet paper lives in the trash, running water is available “sometimes”, and coffee plants abound. We set up our sleeping bags on benches in the sanctuary so the rats can’t kill us, and we flush the toilet, take “showers”, and wash dishes via buckets of water. Oh, and they’re celebrating the Festival of the Saints from the 14th to the 22nd, so there’s been loud music playing outside everyday until about 2am. Thank God for earplugs. So it’s different… but in a sort of simple, hilarious, “I can’t believe this is actually my life” kind of way.
Everyone here speaks Spanish (and very little English), so we’ve relied on our fabulous, Spanish-speaking team leader, Rachel, to translate. We cluster around her during each church service or do our best to pick out the handful of palabras de español we happen to know. The church body is small but unbelievably friendly, and few of them leave without a handshake or a hug. Each time we visit someone’s house, they offer us a place to sit and something to eat or drink. To them, everyone is family.
Our ministry “jobs” here are still sort of in the works, but we expect to be helping out at the Compassion International base next to our church in Arroyo Cano and the one in Desarrollo. We’ll also be visiting and building relationships with families, doing Bible studies with the church pastor, and preaching (eek!) in another village.
That being said, we haven’t done much since we’ve been here. Except for the one time we ate lunch and drank fresh, homegrown coffee at our ministry host’s house, or when we hung out with un hermano de iglesia, Jesús, and picked oranges from his orange field. We also drove into Desarrollo to hang out with the Compassion International kids and ate ice cream with our host. (Side story: It’s really hard for people here to say my name. Most people here go by more than one name, so we joked that my “other name” should be Ashley. The Compassion kids called me that for the rest of the afternoon.) And we hang out with todos los niños, who are constantly screaming, “americanos! Mira, americanos!” as they run around the church or peek in our windows. Overall, it’s been pretty neat.
Thanks for the continued prayers and encouragement! Please keep praying as we learn to get into the swing of things and as a few of us have been feeling a little icky the last couple of days. Muchas gracias!
