A long time coming ...

Dearest Family and Friends,

Saludos! Two brief confessions before I proceed: 1) At this point in transition and assimilation into daily life here, it's very difficult to not speak Spanglish (as in, I originally wrote as a greeting and then erased ,"Dearest Familia y Amigos") - my brain seems split right now and tires a bit from switching back and forth between the two languages and sometimes my words fall through the cracks of separation into an alphabet soup where they're all jumbled and some words start in Spanish and end in English, and vice versa. I say this to warn you/beg your pardon if it slips into typing subconsciously - perdoname :-) 2) I apologize for so much time having gone by since my last update. I confess that I was hoping to sustain the time and energy to continue to create lengthy, literary updates that would blow you away and make you feel like you're right here with me every moment. After a month and a half of living here, I'm finally really living, and I'm realizing that unfortunately, there won't be any possible way to take everyone along for everything with me, but that's been hard to let go of - I wanted to put you all in my pocket and pull you out to show you everything so badly. That's how much I'm soaking up living here, the good, the not-so-good, the in-between - it's so tangible and flavorful. All that to say that I'm sure you're ok with shorter posts and probably more pictures, right? I can do that. I'm raising my right hand to type and typing with my left to make it a formal agreement: "I Sarah, promise to update more frequently, using less words so you'll actually read all of my posts, adding more pictures and settling for them not being travel-magazine worthy."

You're so not believing me already because my "brief confessions" were a super long paragraph. Have faith though ...

School has started! My first grade class has 16 endearing, hilarious, unforgettable students that I already have a deep love for. It's amazing how important to me they are already. It's such an interesting dynamic, teaching children of poverty ; they're incredibly easy to love because they hand their hearts to you from day one. No pretenses, just raw emotion and truth. There are certainly challenges in teaching them that I hadn't foreseen in romanticizing the entire experience before I came, but the Lord knew that ahead of time and ordained that this overflowing love be birthed from the first day of school, to conquer all of those challenges in His name; difficulties such as altering classroom management and discipline structure specific to this population, limited resources as we're living and teaching in poverty, and the spiritual battleground that this their hearts as we introduce them to Christ. What a blessing to have Belizeur and Kelvin (classroom assistants for first grade) in the room with us at all times, helping in every way possible. Their overwhelming hearts for service and love for the children is an encouragement to me every day.

Some students have had some difficulty adjusting to the changes in staff, missing former Makarios teachers who have made a lasting impact on their lives, and some have simply had difficulty adjusting to a more structured daily schedule compared to their home life over the summer. Despite how these difficulties manifest throughout the day, the students come in every morning with squeals of sheer joy just to be arriving at school. Our staff devotional lasts from 8:30 - 8:45, at which time the students are permitted to come into the building and have 15 minutes of recess before songs and prayer. We let out a welcome whistle to wave them in and they come tearing through the field with hugs, high fives, and smiles for everyone, making us so excited to start another day --- the embodiment of His mercies being new every morning - God's mercy for us, our mercy for the students, the students' mercy for us, and our mercy for one another as staff.

With varied levels of ability and prior knowledge in our class, we're working through a comprehensive review of the alphabet, specifically focusing on the vowels, and we're excited to work with consonants next week. We capped off our vowel review with a vowel parade throughout the building on Friday (it was a big hit, I'm thinking we'll parade once a week)! In math we've reviewed quite a bit as well - number recognition, 2D figures, counting, addition, and more. Next week we're building a giant number line with paper plates and searching for buried treasure hidden under different quantities.

Our students brush their teeth every day, and we all enjoy lunch together after a student has blessed the food. No matter whose turn it is to pray, a special blessing is always lifted up for Odilsia and Monica, our "cocineras" who prepare "la bandera" every day. "La bandera" ("the flag") refers to some type of meat, rice, and beans, which is the typical Dominican lunch (specific options vary but those are the necessities). Another ridiculously cool detail about Makarios School food - we've got fruit trees in our backyard to add to lunch or breakfast - the freshest of fresh bananas, right off the tree!

I am so very happy to teach at the Makarios School. I can't communicate accurately what a blessing it is to have been brought here to teach these particular children in this manner with these co-workers --- it is truly a divine fulfillment of a dream that's been a long time coming. There's much more where this came from concerning school but I'm determined to make you read this entire post so I'll move on to life outside of school ...

We have a home! My lovely and talented roomie Imani Folkes and I have found a cute, quaint little place on ... well actually our street doesn't have a name. It truly doesn't. But the great thing about our hometown of Montellano is that everything is referred to as relative to something else, so we simply say "the apartment on top of Luis's apartment" and it's understood exactly where we live. (It was even put into the data system as such at the internet office when we signed up for wireless.) We're very happy here, feeling more comfortable every day as we make it into a home. We painted this week and now we're bursting with exciting blues and greens, and we're thankful to report that we have our necessary appliances and feel like "real people" who can cook at home, wash clothes and keep food cold.

As two single girls moving in and getting set up to live life for two years, there was much heavy lifting, assembly, and logistics that we were lost on us, and we couldn't have done it without the help of our teammates and our new Dominican friends who dropped everything they were doing to help us get organized. I hope to be as helpful to any newcomers in the future and to serve others in the way that is so well exemplified by the people in our lives here. Chris and Erika Snapp, who we just recently had to say goodbye to as they headed back home to the states, Andy and Lauren Upton, our fellow solteras Miranda and Dena, the Menolds, the Miles, and our Dominican friends galore have all made our struggle their struggle and have come alongside us to help with anything we've needed, giving much grace along the way.

Outside of school we've been enjoying decorating our apartment, community dinners and Bible studies with Makarios staff, cheering for our new friends playing in local basketball games, making friends in the community, and attending church at Templo Biblico, just a 5-minute walk from our home. At this point we feel completely comfortable taking public transportation anywhere we need to go - it's wild that that's already become the norm - jumping on the back of a moto and flying from one end of town to the other, squeezing into a carrito or a gua gua to jet from city to city, 4 to a seat, no seatbeats, windows down letting the breeze in ... This is our life here.

I am continually overwhelmed by Dominican hospitality. A walk through town can turn into visits with three or four neighbors, pulling out chairs for us and offering whatever they've just made to eat or drink, telling us the latest joke or "chiste" they've heard or asking about Makarios and commending us for working with their children. We try to explain that the pleasure and blessing is ours and try to explain that their welcoming us with open arms brings us such joy.

There are 17,000 more thoughts to impart and stories to tell, but to fulfill the promise of not making this a forever-long post I'll wrap it up and post some pictures to give faces to these people you'll read about. Please know that I think of you all often, love you very much, and pray for you from here in the Dominican Republic. If I may toss out some prayer requests for this next phase of life: please pray for our continued progress in instructing, guiding, and loving our students, for the continued uniting of our team as a whole, for the relationships we've already built and will build in the future to be Christ-centered and glorifying to God, and for the motivation and energy to stay as connected as possible with you all.

Thank you from the bottom of mi corazon for believing in this and for being a part of God's work here. Each day of life here I realize that it was part of His plan all along to call me here, and that my arrival, which has brought about such revelation as to who God is and His heart for the nations, has been a long time coming (as has this post :-))

God bless you all!

Lovestruck Sarah

10 Days, Infinite Gifts

It feels like it was months ago that I stepped off the plane, winding my way through the scaffolding of the Puerto Plata Airport to the loud welcome of the three-piece merengue band (who maintains a full-time gig there, greeting the island’s newest arrivals). I can only assume that it feels that way because of the many experiences I’ve had already that have captivated me, demanding my full attention and causing me to engage all of my senses. Most of these nights I’ve slipped off to sleep so peacefully, thankful for the beautiful exhaustion that comes from days filled with learning about this place, these people, and how to become part of this world.

Thus if it weren’t for casually glancing up at the calendar every few days, or the reminders of my more organized teammates, I may not have realized that it’s only been a little over a week since I landed. It’s been a little over a week since I was welcomed into the Makarios family by a host of big smiles and warm hugs (literally warm hugs - they’d been waiting an hour for me outside the airport because my flight was delayed). A little over a week since I devoured my first Dominican meal. A little over a week since I met my first Dominican spider. A little over a week since my big move to my new home.

Life here is tangible, colorful, and full, and the experiences I’ve had in my short time here I have felt and tasted and heard and seen so deeply. I should say too that while expounding upon the way I’m taking in my new life I certainly don’t mean to discount the rich and meaningful experiences I’ve been blessed to have before I got here. It’s just that, even in a matter of ten days, I’m seeing the fruit of intentionally placing myself in an environment in which certain privileges, comforts, and distractions have been removed. That fruit comes in two forms: helping me to become more aware of the unmet needs of fellow human beings, and helping me to learn to appreciate the gifts our Father has given us all to enjoy, available to me, you, and everyone here – gifts that by monetary standards are inexpensive or even free, that in reality are worth all the money in the world.

The most important gift that we’re showered with here: God making Himself available to us and making His presence known here on this island and through interaction with its inhabitants. My team, including Americans Chris and Erika Snapp who are finishing up a two-year term as host couple, who are having to say their goodbyes while getting us situated, the Menold family, who will be the host family for this next two years, and the Miles family, who will serve for the next two years as Principal and Assistant Principal, the Upton family, here for another year as our school doctor and facilities manager, my three fellow “solteras” (single females), and permanent leadership staff Sharla and Chuck, can testify to God’s presence here in the D.R. and are an incredible inspiration through their submission to His call to live here in community. We have spent much time already here on the roof of the Makarios house (where we’re all living for the first month; it’s the house that was built to host short-term groups, and from where I’m writing to you now!) worshipping together and talking about how to best live out the gospel here. Our Dominican and Haitian team members demonstrate incredible, steadfast, unabashed faith. They were so very excited to meet us and to tell us they had been praying for and eagerly awaiting our arrival. We have attended two services at the local church in Montellano called “Templo Biblico” and were greeted with such sincerity, and a reverence that points our entire existence here back to God’s will. I was eager to tell Pastor Amaury how much I enjoyed the first service while we were talking outside afterward and he simply shook my hand, closed his eyes, smiled, and said “Dios es fiel. Dios es fiel.” (God is faithful.) That pretty much sums it up, Amaury.

Another glorious gift we’ve been given here that Dominicans execute so beautifully is the gift of community. Our team members and new friends have stretched out across cultural and emotional borders to reach out and welcome us with open arms and it’s made for the start of fostering great relationships. We already feel remarkably comfortable around one another and they are very proud of our connection and very intentional about friendship. Locals that we’ve interacted with display such hospitality. No matter the time, no matter what they were busy doing before you came walking by, if they see you passing on the street they bring out their best chairs and insist you come sit and talk for a while. They’ll offer you the very food they were eating or to serve you the best of whatever they have. It’s humbling, and certainly a practice I would like to continue in the U.S. In relationships with Americans on the team, it has been so easy build community as well – girls’ time, family time, everyone time, chatting, running, studying together, praying together, going into town, grocery shopping, killing large and dangerous insects, and much, much, more. It brings such joy to our interactions to know our hearts are aligned for our purpose.

The gift of sustenance is certainly valued and quite important, and we’ve been well taken care of here. (Dad, re-read the following statement three times: I AM OK!!! J ) Dominican food is a beautiful thing and I’ve already adopted quite a taste for it. I even have my own favorite restaurant in town, “Anjuyli’s”, where I can get my new favorite dish every day of the week: pollo guisado, white rice and beans, a sliced avocado from the fruit stand across the street, and jugo natural. Balín is my burger guy, and today I made friends with Fefa, who sells tostados. She wrapped it up to go for me so I could jump on a moto on the way to a village for a meeting. One more piece of excellent news regarding food: for 20 pesos a day (around 50 cents) I can eat what Odilsia, our Haitian school cook, makes for lunch, so there will always be an option to have a hot meal at school. For my friends that have had the pleasure of frequenting Dominican Joe’s, you can vouch for the fuss that’s made over dark Dominican coffee. For those who haven’t tried it, the four most important words in this entire lengthy blog: Get. Dominican. Coffee. NOW. I’m throwing this out in love. I want what’s best for you.

It’s obviously hot, with a more direct heat than I was expecting, being much closer to the equator than I’ve ever been. The humidity honestly levels the playing field a bit with regards to sweating, which is pretty comforting. I was always a “sweater” in the states but these days, I can look to the left and right of me, and one of my teammates is sure to be sweating it out with me. We encourage one another to drink water, find the shade and the breeze, and congregate here on the roof as soon as the sun goes down.

Transportation deserves its own post. It’s a gift to be able to find ways to get from place to place here, with other little gifts in the form of hilarity squeezed in to every public transportation experience we’ve had so far. I’ve enjoyed finding the comedy in all of them, and striking up conversations with strangers since we’re siting so close to one another. Our options are: 1) motoconchos (little motorcycles or scooters), driven around by a somewhat structured cohort of professionals, that you simply hop on the back of. This is, by far, my favorite. I’ve loved being in the open air and feeling the breeze from the ride when it’s hot. 2) public cars, or “carritos”, which normally seat three in the front, and four in the back, including the driver. It’s common practice for someone to scoot all the way forward in the back seat so that three others can physically fit in with them. The Haitian woman I met yesterday had a pitcher of hot soup she was excited to tell me about and trying not to spill as she scooted up to make room for us. 3) Large vans, or “gua guas” that “comfortably” hold 15, but this weekend to and from the beach exceptions were made and we were 20. Recounting the stories in my head that we’ve already lived that would take much more detail to tell has helped me to make an executive decision: one public transport post a week. It’s too much funniness not to share. I’ll do my best to have a photo to accompany it, so you can get in on the action.

We’ve also been blessed with the gift of shelter and the opportunity to stay in the beautiful Makarios house while we’re getting situated this month and looking for apartments. Our school is located in Montellano, a suburb of Puerto Plata, and the Makarios house is in a neighborhood just outside of Montellano called Los Ciruelos. We have running water, comfortable, a huge kitchen and large tables to eat communally with one another. It’s a completely normal occurrence to lose city power here for a few hours in the day, so several places have inverters or generators, which allows us to do what’s necessary until the power comes back on. It’s made for such a refreshing appreciate on mornings when we wake up and have power, internet, and city water – we know it’s going to be a great day. Despite those petty inconveniences of sometimes having to go without, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the peace of sleeping with the windows open and feeling the Caribbean breeze lull me off to dreamland, to the tune of soft bachata music coming from the home of a distant neighbor.

The most demonstrative gift that I’ve been so lucky to receive and that I still can’t fathom getting to partake in for the next two years, has been interaction with the children here. Speaking to Arturo who I met in the street leaving Balin’s burger grill about how excited we are that he’s coming back to school, watching Son do backflips down dirty streets of his Haitian village, and hugging Regina for the tenth time in the five minutes since we met before she left with her mother, confirm that I’m absolutely supposed to be right here, doing exactly this. Aside from running into students in town that my team has introduced me to, we have made visits to two villages, Haitian “bateyes”, from which the poorest of our students come. We have sat and talked with their families who brought out broken chairs so we could sit and rest and kissed us on the cheek to thank us, played their favorite games of hitting whatever is found to be thrown with sticks and wheeling tires around, and just hugged and looked them in the eye, assuring them that it’s going to be a wonderful school year. I have plans to return to the villages next week and I see it being a place I can frequently be found outside of school. Such joy, such hospitality, such richness walking through a shantytown where the streets really do have no name. My students don’t have shoes (Makarios provides shoes for them to wear to school), and I can close my eyes and see their little bare feet scurrying to keep up as we went from house to house, making sure parents knew what day classes are starting. I know that not every part of this job will be easy and that it’s not supposed to be, but visiting these villages and meeting almost half of my new students brings me so much excitement when thinking about this year and the potential that I know they already have.

Looking back over my last post I can testify to the fact that I’m still living and will continue to live in paradox during my time here. But I think the idea will be to let these amazing gifts carry me through the lows, the “yuck ducks”. These and so many, many more gifts have been poured on us already in ten days and I know there are more to come. Thank you all so very much for keeping us in your prayers and thinking about us. I miss you all “muchísimo” and please know that I’m thinking of and praying for you here from across the sea.

I’ll check in soon to update you all on the progress of preparing our school and classrooms for the first day, which is September 20^th! I love you all!

Lovestruck Sarah

Perfect Paradox

Dear Family and Friends,

Like many other of my best-laid plans that don’t usually come to fruition, the idea was to create this first post the night before leaving and make it dramatic and romantic. I pictured myself sitting down with my favorite mug of hot tea, surrounded by a few lit candles, my bags all packed and goodbyes all said, with nothing left to do besides write through my thoughts and feelings in such a way that would make readers want to “follow” me. I envisioned myself tapping into a realm of creativity that would enable me to find the words to accurately communicate to everyone what was in my heart in that moment, and to start chronicling my journey.

Reality looks a little different though. Right now I’m sitting in the middle of the brightness and bustle of the Miami International Airport hopped up on caffeine like a bug-eyed cartoon character, only having slept on and off during the two-hour flight from Houston to here. I’m feeling the feelings and thinking the thoughts but not gracefully with hot tea; they’re spewing out of me like I’m dysfunctional fountain and I’m a little worried that any minute I’ll start unloading on yet another stranger next to me all of the paradox of the laughter and tears and beauty and struggle. In this reality, my poor mother had to circle the passenger-drop-off area 7 times to come and retrieve heavier items from my suitcase that she’ll have to ship so I could finally get down to regulation weight limit, and our final, loving goodbye was shouted over three lanes of honking traffic.

In this reality I braced myself for what I thought would be emotional goodbyes that weren’t and was surprised by the difficulty of others that I didn’t brace myself for, and I ran to seek out a corner by myself to cry through the choking feeling of knowing I’ll miss out on things that don’t happen twice, like third and sixtieth birthdays. In this reality I feel under qualified, and not in control of my own world. The humbling process of support-raising, and the idea that I’m to have faith that my needs will be met long-term when the concrete, tangible proof isn’t there is … challenging. There are logistics issues that didn’t get resolved that I’ll have to take care of from there. My teammates are stuck in Jersey because the hurricane that already touched down on the island causing major flooding and damage is headed right for the northeastern coast of the U.S. And to top it all off, there’s no way I can get this posted before actually arriving to the island because the wireless at the Miami International Airport isn’t free. (So technically, you’re reading a not-entirely-authentic message, because I will have had to wait to post it until arriving in Puerto Plata.)

But I say all of this, a seeming string of grouchy complaints, to wind around to shedding light on this truth: that even with the smoothness and finesse with which I imagined this transition occurring, this reality, God’s reality, which is His will playing out, is much, much better than mine. And I’ll take this reality, and embrace with open arms perpetually overweight suitcases, confusion and a lack of understanding as to how my needs will be met, all of it – all of it. Every piece. I will take it with the utmost gratitude because months ago, no sooner did I learn about and begin to desire this opportunity when my heart broke as I “realized” that doing something like this would never be possible for someone like me – and because months before that, I wouldn’t have even let myself begin to desire such a thing in the first place because I “knew” in deep, dark places in my heart that I could never be destined to be a vessel for anything the Lord wanted done. But those pieces of my preexisting, inaccurate reality were shattered, like tiny pieces of a glass mosaic, crashing open to reveal what I can only make out as a bright, blinding light. I still don’t understand it well, I can’t stare directly into it, but it’s overwhelming and it completely usurped my idea of my boxed-in future, which would have been forced to adhere to measurements of my own incapability of really making a difference. Countless giant, fire-breathing dragons of impossibility were slayed on my behalf to bring me here, to make it possible for me to be sitting in this chair getting ready to board the plane.

He slayed them because He loves me like crazy; madly, incessantly. He loves every single one of us in that way and has thus opened doors and provided opportunities for us to love and serve one another in different beautiful ways. And the icing on the cake is that to respond to that call, to love and serve, is just as rewarding for the lovers and the servers as it is for the recipients! Goodness abounds!

So I’m here, steeped in paradox, embracing as much as possible the tears and laughter and highs and lows that have woven their way in and out of this process, just excited to be here at all, bowled over by the idea that anyone could love me enough to lay before me an opportunity such as this. I’m truly love-struck. Just a lovestruck girl.

To anyone reading this (and especially to those who made it this far down the page!), I want to sincerely extend my deepest gratitude for your interest, prayers, support, involvement, and encouragement. It has been such a manifestation of angelic love to have been urged on by others, extending their shoulders to lean on and desiring to be part of the effort. You all are of the utmost importance to me. Please continue to pray for our efforts and please get in touch with me to let me know how I can pray for you; I would love to stretch my arms out across the sea and extend a shoulder for you to lean on should you need it, so let me pray for and support you. I hope to bless you with good news about what your generosity is doing for the children we’re serving and to be able to properly thank you for what you’ve done. Thank you for making it such that it’s almost time to board the plane to the Dominican Republic. Thank you for answering God’s call to help.

I guess I’ll be writing to you next time from the DR! Wishing you all many, many blessings.

Love,

Lovestruck Sarah