Day 3: Heartbreak Day, part 2 (the dump)

Thursday, June 11, 2015 (afternoon)

After the hospital, everyone went to the Fort and had sandwiches for lunch, then had a brief historical tour. A balm to our soul was the view of the ocean and the salty breezes. We snapped lots of pictures before heading to the dump.

Also, Paul took a few of us in search of a place to get copies of the book for VBS, but we couldn't find anywhere. We will find an alternative, it isn't that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things.

The dump
So, in case you didn't know, people actually live at the dump. The piles of smelly garbage are what they call home. They scrounge and find what people throw away to get by. People like us used to go in there to help, but the government now forbids this. Just down the road is a fancy resort and international media did an exposé of people living in the dump, so the government made them move across the street. There still are people who live in the dump though, but no one else is allowed in.

Across the street is basically a treeless, gravel expanse with some large machinery belonging to the dump. It is extremely sunny and hot with no shade, except near the equipment when not in use. There is sort of a shantytown off to the side where everyone actually lives.

View of the housing area from the Daihatsu

This year it was a little different because this area is now private property. It is gated off, but whoever bought it still allows the people to live there and lets us come in too.  Now there is a gas station immediately next door to the gravel area, gated off as you would imagine.

I couldn't possibly imagine why someone would put a gas station there. How much business could you get on this stretch of road, next door to people living in the most desperate of conditions, and who could stand to be reminded daily of their misery? And then Jeff and a few of the guys talked with the owner of the gas station. We pulled over there just before we left, and he became choked up, thanking us for what we were doing for the people there. I am pretty sure I can guess who bought this land and why. Now no one can kick these people off of their land. It may be desolate and scant, but it is their home. I don't know if that's really why or if that man is responsible for protecting them, but it's what I choose to believe.

Here is video of the kids coming.

After we arrived, we quickly piled out of the Daihatsu to play with the kids. We were all surrounded and treated like celebrities. Everyone had several kids grab them, want shoulder rides, to be held, to play, to have attention.

This is Anai (pronounced: On Ah EE) and she grabbed me right away. She ran around holding my hand and showing me off to everyone. She was jealous whenever I tried to pick up or give attention to any other kids.

 Here is some video of us playing with the kids. Here's another. A number of us girls painted the little girls' nails. Some of them would scratch or wipe it off so they could come and get some more. They said over and over "préstamelo" (lend it to me), but we didn't have enough for everyone so it would create divisions among them. We couldn't let them hold it.

After we had played for a while (45 minutes??), with the help of Wanda, one of the ladies who lives at the dump and who has become our helper, we circled the kids up to sing a few songs. She wanted me to start and lead a few, so we sang Cristo me ama (Jesus loves me), Tengo paz como el rio (I've got peace like a river) and El amor de Dios es maravilloso (God's love is wonderful). She led a few we didn't know but caught onto, like Alabaré a mi Señor (I will praise my Lord). 

Then, the kids all lined up for the care packages we made for them (ziploc with toothpaste, toothbrush, bar soap, granola bar, comb/brush), which just seemed so horribly inadequate. They also got kool-aid and a snack. The adults came next and they got rice and beans (dried). We had to line everyone up and form a line of us to guide them along to the other side once they had gone through the line, making sure no one came through twice. I know I had to sweet talk a young man (early 20s?) who was attempting to get back in line to gently send him back without causing an incident. I also had to be a little more firm in trying to stop an old lady who was doing the same thing. Many either tried to shove the rice and beans in their clothes to slip back in line unnoticed or to drop it off somewhere/to someone and get back in line. 

It is heart breaking because you understand how desperate, how hungry, how in need they are, but have to enforce rules otherwise chaos breaks out and it is fair to no one. Survival is an ugly thing. You do it at the expense of those around you. There are a limited number of resources and each one thinks, "I need that." And they each do. So when you manage to survive, to acquire resources, you know it is at the expense of someone else. At times there was even a glory in it, a satisfaction in having what others didn't. The kids used us in a way as status. I felt like I was Anai's prize- she ran around showing me to everyone and I was hers. She didn't know anything about me but I was someone to call hers. To make her feel special. I was willing to be hers just so she had somebody, just for a while, to love her for a moment. 

One may hope that this is a temporary situation, living in this place for a little while, but since we had been before, we were not afforded the luxury of that illusion. It is so overwhelming seeing so many kids and people all around you, vying for your attention, but even in those circumstances, I recognized a few from last time. 

This little girl with a shriveled arm was there 2 years ago when we were here. She is so thin too.

I think the girl in front is the same as the girl in plaid above

This kid is absolutely adorable, which is why he stuck out in my mind.

Here's a picture of him from 2 years ago. What a ham!

It was too much for us at the time to think that these kids, precious children of God, were living in the dump, where things nobody wants are thrown. What kind of education are they getting? What chances do they have of improving their situation? What are they learning about life? Do they have hope? Do they know Jesus loves them? Can they possibly believe it?

Maybe it's better we couldn't wrap our minds around it. We musn't come and be miserable, crying for them and their future. They needed us to just pick them up and play with them, for us to laugh with them for just a little while. To take pictures of them with our cameras, to immortalize them in a photo, to provide a record of their existence. They needed us to be Jesus to them, no questions, no accusations, no qualifications, just loving them where they were, who they were.

Our care packages are no doubt long since used up. The rice and beans are eaten. They likely have forgotten the love we gave them so briefly. They are hungry again, lonely again. But we remember them. Lord Jesus, let us never forget.

Day 3: Heartbreak Day, part 1 (the hospital)

Thursday, June 11, 2015

So here is my journal from the day we did all the things that we knew would rip our hearts out. It was Puerto Plata day: the day we went to the hospital and the dump.

Last year I felt like I sweat drops of blood praying and dreading this day. I guess this day because I had already experienced it, I didn't have quite as much dread, but I still took it very seriously.

"During quiet time today, I read 2 Corinthians 4 and 5 and Psalm 23. My heart just feels so full, I can't even express it. I won't forget."

That was all I journaled about quiet time that day. Rereading both passages now, wow. I know the way I spent my quiet times was generally pretty Spirit led - I would pray and either a verse would come to me or I'd just flip my bible and see where it led me. I am certain I could not have picked better passages to prepare me for the day. I just can't imagine where to begin to describe or select what part(s) to emphasize of those passages. I strongly urge you to just take a minute to read them yourself (links above).

Hospital in Puerto Plata. No photos allowed inside.

We went to the women's ward while the men went to the men's ward. The rooms seemed so dark and everyone looked sad and/or uncomfortable. There were something like 10-12 beds in each room and not much space for visitors, which most had at least one person there looking out for them because if they didn't no one else would it seemed. We entered in our "entourage" and once we were in, I asked if we could sing for them. No one said no, even if their family member was sleeping. We sang "As the deer" and then "En momentos asi," which we had practiced on the Daihatsu on the way, as it's been maybe since 2 years ago we sang it, and I remember patients' family singing with us last time when we sang it. No one sang with us this time, even though we visited so many more rooms and sang it many more times.

Last year we sang, but we had guys in our group too. The sound of the girls singing was so sweet, it was just like angels. I could barely sing, the notes just stuck in my throat as I fought back tears, trying to keep it together as I saw how much beauty and comfort these girls were bringing to this dark place. One lady was so moved she was watching us, listening, tears just streaming down her face. One girl lost it; she had to turn around. Some of the other girls were in tears but still singing. When they were done, I explained we would come to each of them and pray with them if they wanted. As we split up and in small groups approached each bed, it was helpful to have Edely, one of the Dominican teens, and Monica, a Puerto Rican intern, there to help with Spanish, and the others did their best. Some of the girls do a pretty good job in Spanish, enough to get by. The patients and families felt loved at least. We hugged, sometimes kissed, smiled and gently squeezed their hands. One that broke my heart begged us, "Please come back and visit us."

Some seemed not in too bad of shape, but others were pitiful - skin and bones, deformed, very ill and no one tending to them. Jeff shared with me much later about a man he cannot forget. He was 104 and in really bad shape. There was a family member (daughter, he guessed) who was trying to get him to drink a dark liquid, but it was running all over his face. She came to Jeff and desperately was trying to communicate a need to him. He, with the help of one of the Dominican teens whose English was spotty, gathered that she wanted a towel to wipe his face off. Jeff found a nurse or aid and asked for just a paper towel or tissue, but there was none. He felt crushed that this poor man couldn't even get something to wipe off his face - where is the dignity in that?

In Mexico you have to have family members with you in the hospital because the staff can't look out for the patients. This place seems the same. I don't even want to think what happens to people who have no one. I believe they told us last time that anyone can come in if there's an open bed, they just won't treat them if they don't have the money. Staff seemed very scarce. One of the missionaries indicated there was no triage; that is, those in most need didn't necessarily get treated first so for example someone could bleed to death while someone with a broken bone got treated first because they were there first.

I remember last time how I loved praying with the people and felt so encouraged, so held through the experience that I was a bit sorry when it was time to go. This time was just plain hard. It was so hard each time we went to a different ward and had to pull ourselves together. There were a lot of tears in the halls; the emotional toll was heavy. I personally didn't know how much more I could take. When it was time to go, we breathed a sigh of relief.

That's enough for today. I'll journal about the afternoon at the dump tomorrow.

DR Day 2 - Community Day, VBS in Rio San Juan

Wednesday, June 11, 2015

With our groups, we had community day in Bobita, where we ate and hung out at the home of one of the students who attends Manna Christian School (high school). Then, we had a scavenger hunt in Rio San Juan, and finally we did VBS in Rio San Juan.

I'm not sure where to even start. This was a challenging day. The work we do here is not easy. It's not easy to show grace when you're very uncomfortable or out of your element. It's also not easy when fellow brothers and sisters in Christ let you down. I'm battling with both right now. I thought I was somehow adapting better this time to the outlandish heat and humidity, but truth is I'm still struggling.

Community day in Bobita

With our group and a few interns, we each went to the home of a different Manna student for lunch and we got to go to Nene's (Renecito)! He lives with his grandparents just on the other side of the bridge we helped reinforce last year. He has a small house with a flush toilet that works when the street electricity works, but otherwise there is a pit toilet in the newer addition. His uncle's motorcycle is parked in the living room (somewhat common around here), even though he doesn't live in Bobita. The newer addition has a kitchen with a tiny gas stove, sink, cages of chickens, a dining room, kitchen area. They had to build a bunch of reinforcements and a wall due to the river flooding. His grandfather was pretty difficult to understand, but I had some good conversation with him. He had me running all over the place, telling me of a son who had passed away, a bishop who was a good friend, another son who lives in Switzerland with his wife, another who lives in Rio San Juan with Renecito's brother, pointing out how his septic system is put together, where it runs, another son who does cock fighting and keeps his chickens there (I said I thought that was illegal and he said not here!), pointing out different kinds of trees, fruits and nuts, my head was spinning. I was so hot, I had to just sit, so I made my way back to the kitchen and rested a while in a nice rocking chair while the other kids played dominoes, the national sport. Nene and the other kids played and were very leisurely about it, but many of the kids from the other houses later commented that the people played like it was life or death, slamming down dominoes when it was their turn. We get that way about UNO and some card games, but it struck us pretty funny that they take dominoes so seriously. To each his own!

Also, Nene taught us how to make tostones (which I pretty much already knew since that's how they do them in Puerto Rico too) and even Clayton and Trisha got to help!

Nene shows Clayton how it's done

Trisha smashes the once-fried plantain in the majador

Clayton gives it a try

Before...

and after!

Lunch was so amazing- Dominican chicken, moro and fried plantains. I never drink sugar pop, but I couldn't say no to that ice cold Coke they brought out. We all ate a lot but it just wasn't enough! Dominicans want to you eat and eat - it's a source of pride!

We had a group photo and then headed back to Manna to get our supplies, hop the Daihatsu and head to Rio San Juan for a scavenger hunt and VBS.

Back: Renecito's uncle who showed up for the picture, Renecito, me, Clayton, grandpa
Front: Garrett, Emily, Trisha, grandma

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

Scavenger hunt in Rio San Juan

I include a few pictures Kailey took from the scavenger hunt (I did not go). I'm so proud, it turns out in spite of his pitiful high school Spanish, Jeff was the go-to person for his group for Spanish! Go Jeff!

At the Gri Gri Lagoon

This is a neat story that Logan would use for the Lord's Supper during worship on Sunday. (more later!)

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

VBS in Rio San Juan

When they presented the scavenger hunt to us, they made clear that Monica (Puerto Rican intern), Joan (Dominican intern) and I would not be allowed to help our groups. Honestly after the Daihatsu ride, I needed a break.

I don't want to be a whiner, in fact I didn't even include this in my original journal, but I needed to regroup physically and mentally for VBS. I had purposely left the benches for others because I was too hot to squish closely and was previously told by a missionary we were allowed to stand as long as we were on Bobita road. The interns (not their fault, misinformed) forbade me to do so, so I sat on the floor - hot metal, no breeze, jolting... I thought I would faint a number of times. I truly didn't know how I would be up to the challenge of VBS, which required me to be engaging, animated and mentally coherent. So, when I learned I would not be allowed to help, it seemed an ideal time to skip out and recuperate. Jim and Troy stayed too and sang some lovely songs. I enjoyed that as I reviewed the story, prayed and rehydrated, but decided to check out the space upstairs where I would be telling the story. It was nice, if a little lacking in breeze. The door was open to the left of the stairs, so I walked through and found Norm and a few others chatting in Cafe 25, the one Keely and Bonnie opened to minister to the teens. I greeted them briefly and walked on through to the balcony where a lovely breeze greeted me. It was neat watching people in the street of Rio San Juan almost like a fly on the wall - kids playing, Ranger skateboarding, cars driving by, just peacefully reflecting and knowing it was just me and my thoughts.

Alone time is pretty nonexistent here, and match it with a breeze, it was just what I needed. I prayed, looked over the story cards I had made, and just closed my eyes and thanked God for the brief oasis. I noticed a white lady getting out of her car and knew it must be Sandy, the lady who co-runs the center and I needed to talk to her to get things ready for VBS, so I headed down.

She was exactly what I expected, as I was told an ex-military couple who ran a tight ship was in charge of VBS in Rio San Juan. We discussed how things would be set up, the Dominican teens would lead songs, then we'd do our skit, then the kids would split into 4 groups (not 3- too big). We had the coloring book be one station and the jail craft be another, and had the groups assigned to areas - story upstairs, coloring on the floor where they just installed ceiling fans, jail craft and snack outside, games in the "gym" area. She was very no nonsense and had a strong opinion about everything. She made a big point about the entire reason for being a missionary was to build relationships. Yes, we may do physical labor, feed, teach, provide for needs, but ultimately it's all about building relationships. There is no doubt she has a clear purpose where she is at: she has a relationship with Jesus and she is doing what she is where she is not just to physically help the impoverished but to rescue them and bring them into a relationship with the one who can eternally heal them. This was a strong theme this year both in Bobita and in Rio San Juan.

Ryan and Sandy addressing us right before VBS in Rio San Juan

This morning, Norm gave us a talk about circles of influence. It was very effective and you can tell he is very passionate about Jesus. We may come and talk to strangers about Jesus and minister to them, but only our close friends and family are truly in our circle of influence. We are doing them a disservice if we do not share our faith with them. He was very direct and I know some people thought he was a little out there, but he was right on, even if he wasn't too subtle or gentle in the way he presented his message. I know it really resounded with Jeff too.

Without me realizing it really until afterwards, he influenced my presentation of the story at VBS. At the end I asked kids questions to bring the lesson home. Does God love us when we're good? When we're bad? (we certainly tend to think of His love as conditional, which it NEVER is). Do you have a friend who doesn't know God loves them? Do you have a friend who isn't here today? Can you share with them how much God loves them? I felt like God just carried me through the story-telling, it felt magical. Neat how God puts His words and special messages on our hearts to share and it keeps going!

VBS in Rio San Juan is REAL. We were so not prepared for the number of kids that came, but still feel it was a success. Before the doors opened, the SW teens interacted with the kids through the bars. Most were precious, hugging, fist bumps, etc. although I did find out later that Caleb took a kick where no man wants to be kicked. He took it in stride though, which says a lot about his character!

Once the kids were in, we began to realize this was nothing like the last time with some 40-50 kids. Things got started pretty quickly and the Dominican teens got up in front and led the way. They led songs ably and enthusiastically, controlling the huge crowd of little ones, ages 3 and up.

They really did an amazing job and the kids behaved really well too, despite the fact that many are completely unsupervised, neglected and living on the streets. They are asked to leave if they don't follow the rules, which does happen. They come and have structured fun, a snack and love. Sandy and Ryan have really got an amazing thing going! As Sandy emphasized to me, the kids long for relationship, which is what they (and we) are providing.

Here are some videos of the songs :)
Aunque no marche la infanteria... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-SuPwgddNxw
Si tu amas a Cristo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VDMkkpGbvUs
Tengo paz como el rio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UkG-fJtZba0

The kids did an excellent job with the skit! The little Dominican kids really were engaged and got into it, something that the directors tell us just doesn't happen. I'm so proud of them! Watch them here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=209J0ObTavA

The stations went well, although we ran out of snacks (we had enough granola bars but didn't bring enough- counted number of bars, not number of packs of bars - 2 each, so Hope ran out and bought some more snacks!). Also, we realized quickly that we were going to be out of the books I made and the jail/apostle crafts we bought for VBS in Bobita. By count there were 112 kids for VBS this time!!!

Kids are such a scream, whenever you ask stories to engage kids, you never know what you're going to get. This time was no exception! Once when Paul and Silas were arrested, not having done anything wrong, I asked the kids if Paul and Silas deserved to be arrested and thrown in jail. The chorus of "no!" was interrupted by one who said "si!" I asked why and his response was "porque era fresco!" Which roughly translates to Paul was lipping off, being a punk. LOL! I had to explain the cause of my myrth to my English-speaking counterparts at a later time as not to interrupt the flow, but the Dominican teens who got it were stifling giggles.

I'm also very grateful for my story-station team - the Banisters and Caleb, who sat with the kids and gave me those ever important time clues so I knew how much to stretch or hurry the story to fit. With everyone helping, it went so smoothly! I didn't see them, but I know the kids had fun, learned a lot and were loved in all the other stations too. What a blessing it is to serve with these amazing people!

Story time! Paul, Silas and the Philippian jailer (Acts 16) 

Craft and snack time (foam jail, apostles)

Foam jail and apostles (craft station)

Story, color and activity book, Paul, Silas and the Philippian jailer

Holding the book up (you can see it better :) 

Write your name on your craft so you don't lose it!

more coloring!

Games, including bubbles!

Afterwards in all the hullabaloo, I left my sunglasses. Life down here will be a little hard without them, but perhaps someone can pick them up for me. At least I have a hat :)

Back to before, there have been a number of different relationship issues arise, things were I normally would have gotten bent out of shape, possibly badmouthed someone and/or taken offense, but I did not. I have been trusting God and looking for His approval alone, seeking His will. I feel like Satan is setting out trying to bait me but I'm not biting. My focus is on Jesus and reflecting His love. I don't want to go into any specifics, even to myself, because I feel like I'd be looking for sympathy or validation from someone other than God. I know this may not outwardly seem like much preparation for the dump tomorrow, but what more appropriate than seeking God's love and will above my own?

Here I sit after the long day, finally getting a shower at 11pm. I didn't get a chance to even talk with Jeff until after 10pm, when we sat on the step outside our dorms. It was worth all the crap we got for being a guy and a girl sitting together talking in the dark- ha!, I did my best to prepare him for tomorrow- the hospital and the dump, the most intensely emotional day the last time. He is such a precious heart- I can't wait to talk more leisurely, deeply, reflectively about all we both have experienced.

Perhaps you now understand how exhausted I am having seen all that happens in one day here! Yes, this was all ONE day!