Now that I’m leaving…

As some of you know, I’m taking a strategically timed 5 month siesta from summer in the tropics (read bugs and heat) to go back to Alaska with the park service. As I sit here with my fan barely rotating, trying to recollect a distant two weeks ago when one still got to snuggle up in bed in fleece pants, two sweatshirts, two blankets AND a sleeping bag (even tropical countries get cold) I’m realizing that my excitement to return to Alaska’s cold weather might be short-lived. Every time I mention Alaska to a Dominican, even if they don’t know where Alaska is located, I get the same response, ‘oh yeah, Alaska, that’s where there is ice’. As much as I like to pretend that I, Californian native, I, wearer of fleece and two sweatshirts in 65 degree Dominican winter nights, am thick-skinned enough to have no ‘weather-shock’ when I go north, I can only go so long without realizing that maybe a year of living on a tropical island has actually turned me into a cold weather weenie. This is a concerning fact considering that the place I’m going to in Alaska is known for not just its ice, but its plethora of ice…rivers and mountains filled with the stuff! (UpperR: the beach trip w/ the Ark kids...why am i leaving again?)

So as I take stock of all the mountains of winter clothes I’ll be packing for my ‘summer’, I thought I should also take a moment to reflect on the ‘accomplishments’ that have presented themselves along this journey here in the DR. I must admit that I love being in this ‘I’m leaving in 7 days’ period. The realization of leaving gives a new perspective and sense of gratitude for the multitude of life’s blessings that have given great comfort and encouragement. Unfortunately some of which only happen once you really start to know and understand a place and people…and of course that only happens right before you leave. So in honor of the short lived blessings…

Now that I’m leaving…

10. Now that I’m leaving…I am finally able to understand the guys talking about me as I run by…and I am now able to politely let them know of that fact.

9. Now that I’m leaving…I finally have found a store that sells caramel frappacinos that would put Starbucks out of business.

8. Now that I’m leaving…I finally know where enough kids live around town that all my running loops have an emergency toilet plan…

7. Now that I’m leaving…I finally have convinced another missionary that accompanying me on the mail run (the fortnightly mail pick-up at the airport) to the city is not only a chance to test a post-missionary career with the postal service, but is also a convenient time to take a close study of the inside of McDonalds.

6. Now that I’m leaving…I finally can travel outside of Jarabacoa, Dominican style, (aka back of a pickup) without a map and not get lost, at least not physically lost. I, of course, have no idea where I am, but thankfully Dominicans have some sort of internal database that somehow tells them where to send you…‘No I don’t know Josue, but go straight, stop at the market, and ask there’. Sure enough, it works every time. (Matt & Lindsay with Josue, their sponsor kid that we hunted down and found!)

5. Now that I’m leaving…I finally know that the key to getting the local bus price requires being a little strategic. At the opportune moment, quickly ask the lady sharing your seat what it cost to get to stop X then hand the exact amount to the driver, this shows him that you know the fare and he’s not gonna get anymore out of you. However, make sure the driver is distracted or outside when asking or else he might intercept your question and name his Americano price. Above all, do NOT wait till you’ve reached your destination and then ask your driver how much, you’ll be broke before you know it.

4. Now that I’m leaving…I finally know what signing up for a Dominican camping trip with the Ark (the kids home) little kids will entail: spaghetti…for breakfast, camping in a cow pasture, a non-flushing toilet for 61 persons, thankfulness for the cow pasture after seeing the non-flushing toilet for 61 persons, the 1.5km hike actually turning into a 1.5 hour hike, the littlest of the kids walking the 1.5 hours and us realizing that they now need to walk back, being sent to clean the kid who had a bout of diarrhea…in his pants…

(R: The cow pasture & some of the Ark kids)

3. Now that I’m leaving…I’m realizing that the mysterious small amount of food that I have been buying is not because I’ve been eating less, but because I somehow keep finding pressing reasons to visit missionary families around 6pm.

2. Now that I’m leaving…my 6^th grade terror art class, that think clothing and skin are a substitute for paper on painting day, that laugh when I ask them to be quiet- the ones that heard that is, whose work I confuse with second grade, was appalled at me not being in class this week. And of all things, when they asked, I was actually sad that I wasn’t! (L: first grade art class)

1. Now that I’m leaving…I finally can see that God has blessed me with such vast riches in the time I’ve had teaching these kids, working with them doing sponsorship, playing soccer with them, being loved by them, etc, etc, etc. God had been really good over the past 16 months. I came to the DR knowing nothing, and I’m leaving (for the time being) with a better glimpse of the heart of God.

Psalm 71:20-21

²⁰ Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter,
you will restore my life again;
from the depths of the earth
you will again bring me up.

²¹ You will increase my honor
and comfort me once again.

Prayer:

That my 5 months in Alaska will be instructive in seeing if God wants me to continue with the NPS after my time in the DR

That I will have ministry and fellowship (sometimes very hard to come by) within the NPS community in Glacier Bay.

And like always, continue to pray for the kids and ministry here in the DR

(below: the highlight from the Moca zoo 2nd grade field trip)

A whole revolution

(from January...)

That’s right my friends, it has been a whole year. I was reminded of the continuous course of time with my first overlap; the arrival of Randy and the St. Mary’s college team. It was a year ago that I flew down with them and got my first taste of Dominican life. With my year-ago self in mind (the naïve, shy, new, dependant American), I am moved by the grace given to me by my students, roommates (poor Sonia who had to teach me everything), families, friends, parents, and teachers. Considering where I came from 12 months ago, the learning curve has been dramatic. SO, many thanks to you all for your prayers during this year, I feel so undeserving of your remembrance, but so grateful. The Lord has blessed me so much in my time here and I pray that he will bless you beyond imagination.

Peace and Love to you all,

Erica

Rolando's World

I have nothing funny to write about this month. It seems that as I have turned the page into year two, I have become an expert in third world living. Break-ins? Fire brigade saluting and marching? Bugs in the fridge? Is this the real third world!?! My stories need some new sub-Saharan characters: crocodiles, lions, wild hippopotamuses!

But no, Africa isn’t in the plan anytime soon. I could share a number of amusing mishaps, most of which involve me, my motorcycle and looking rather ridiculous, but amusing just doesn’t cut it. So in light of having nothing earth-shattering to say, I will tell you about my funny friend Rolando (in Hawaiian red). I went to visit his house with a couple other teachers and Micah Trautwein (she’s a MK). He and his brother sure were camera shy. That’s a joke. I think every picture I have of him some how involves kungfu. His story is hard, and yet, there are even worse stories out there. His story is a reminder to pray without ceasing!

Rolando (above) is five. He is Haitian. He doesn’t have a birth certificate so he cannot go to public school. Instead, he comes to the morning ABC class. The ABC program was developed to teach Haitian kids to speak/read/write Spanish in hopes that they will be able to move into kindergarten the following year. At Rolando’s home, every day his parents wake up at 4:45am to cook some rice, if there is any, for Rolando and his two older brothers. They start walking towards the fields where they work around 6am. Once they leave, the boys are left home alone. Rolando’s 11 year old brother, Chofry, is in charge of the food for the day. The rice has to last for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Before 7am, Rolando and Chofry start walking the 3 miles through town to Anija. In winter it is still dark when they head out. Because school is so far, Chofry waits for Rolando to finish school so that they can walk home together. While his brothers are at school, the middle brother (7 years old) has spent the day alone in an empty house next to a busy street. Mom comes home around 6 or 7 and dad sometimes much later.

Nothing can really prepare you for the hard realities of some of the kids in our programs. A few weeks after school was back in January, I learned that Rolando hadn’t been attending class. It appears his family is gone; returned to Haiti after an attempt at finding a better life working the fields.

Rolando’s sad story is one of 13 others. Over the year I have seen our Haitian program grow from 5 to 13 with one kid in kindergarten and one in first grade! Kids Alive has reached out and helped so many kids just like Rolando. Although hard, stories like Rolando’s remind me that I need to be spending more time in prayer for all of our kids, whether they are doing good or bad.

So please pray with me for Rolando and his family and for provision for the millions of children like Rolando around the world.

In the same way, prayer is essential in this ongoing warfare. Pray hard and long. Pray for your brothers and sisters. Keep your eyes open. Keep each other's spirits up so that no one falls behind or drops out.

Ephesians 6:18 (message)