La Romana 2012 day 4 - Grrrr....

Imagine someone putting their hand on your shoulder, looking you in the eye, and saying in a firm, assuring voice, “It’s gonna be ok. It’s gonna be ok.”

Do you feel better?

I went on a bit of a rant yesterday. Not a big one, but a rant nonetheless. What I was expressing was a level of frustration. I wasn’t smart enough to know that was what I was doing at the time, but after some group process and reflection, I have been enlightened (AHHHHH) and now know the truth.

Tonight during our group process and reflection I asked people to share their frustrations. One person from the medical team shared her frustration that people from the team are eating well and there are children and adults all around in the batey who complain they are hungry and we have nothing to offer them. What is so frustrating is that we have the food and we could bring sandwiches if we wanted to.  Why can’t we do more?

Someone from the construction team shared the frustration that sometimes it feels like we are doing very menial work while the people on the medical team are doing amazing things with individuals; they are reaching people and construction folks are moving buckets of sand. Similar to my rant yesterday, that person is frustrated.

These frustrations were voiced during our reflection time and immediately people started to offer solutions. “All we need to do is get some bread, some peanut butter, and we can make the sandwiches.” Or, “You just need to remember that you are a part of a bigger project, of something big.”

“It’s gonna be ok. It’s gonna be ok.”

Do you feel better?

Actually, no. Take your platitudes, put them back in your I’m-gonna-fix-it pocket. Don’t try to make things better; don’t cover up our frustrations or our anger. Let us just be mad. Let us just be upset and make a mess.

Think of it this way. If you walk into a room and see me sitting among a pile of broken eggs, bags of flour everywhere, cans dented, etc., etc., there are a couple of things you can do. You could say, “How long until breakfast?” You could say, “You need to clean this up!” Or… you could get into the mess and make it with me, smash more eggs with me, and be angry with me. Then, when everything is done and when we are both sitting on the floor covered with flour and eggs and everything else, we can start to make pancakes. Mmmm, pancakes.

Your advice is fine, nice, and sometimes helpful, but let us wallow in our mess. Let us be frustrated. Then we can all can hold hands and sing “We shall overcome” together knowing that our work is not in vain and that we are making great strides. Yes, someday all workers at hospitals and schools and other places will know that each block they lift is a block of oppression being lifted from the dregs of society. Yes, someday we will have so many peanut butter sandwiches so each child will only have one desire… for jelly.

Until then, lets look to the immortal image of a younger HenryRollins (from his Black Flag days), and get angry, stay angry, and find God in that mess.

La Romana 2012 Day 3 - All I Have to Show For My Troubles is a Sunburn

Today my big accomplishment was getting sunburned. Serious, farmer-tan sunburn. I thought the hard hat that we have to wear was supposed to protect us, but apparently it didn’t protect me from the sun.

We sifted sand, moved rubble, lifted sand up three and four stories, mixed cement, and did a number of menial, grunt types of work. By the end of the day we were all hot, tired, and ready for a time of rest.

The last two days after supper I have been leading a reflection of the whole group. It is in part so the medical team can hear what the construction team was doing, and so the construction team could hear what the medical team was doing. We talk about our experiences, where we saw God, and some of the amazing things that happened. It is in part to share and in part so that the group as a whole can reflect on what is happening this week, and where God is moving among us.

Today the construction folks did not have much to share. The hook goes up, the hook goes down, sand, gravel, cement, etc. The medical team, on the other hand, had a powerful story about reaching out to a man that was sick, in his home, and was all but abandoned by everyone. It was a powerful story of people taking risks, reaching out, and really making a difference in this man’s life. It was a wonderful story.

Irony. Yesterday I wrote about mission groups that brag and brag about the construction they do. Today I find myself wishing I were with the medical team. They were not bragging about their work, but certainly excited about what they were doing. It was when I heard so many powerful and wonderful things from the medical team and then the simple and almost pointless things from the construction team that I began to wish I was with the other team. I wanted to look into the eyes of the starving child and offer a bit of compassion and love. I wanted to offer a touch of compassion. I wanted to see how I made someone’s life better. Instead I got to see how all of my efforts led to pouring cement. Yea.

A large part of my desire to be with the medical team is egoism. I want to have instant gratification for my work. That is the desire that pushes many construction mission trips – egoism and instant gratification. I am told again and again that my effort with the hospital is good and important, but tonight I’m not feeling those good and powerful vibes. I ask people where they see God, and I don’t know if I have seen God in the time of construction.

I need to take a breath, to bring things into perspective, and to trust that the work I am doing will help people in need.

Maybe tomorrow, while I am shoveling more dirt or cement or rubble, someone will run up to me and say, “quick, we need someone to save this child’s life, and you are the one to do it.” Maybe, but I’m not going to hold my breath.

Monster Work Rally!

Monday! Monday! Monday! Monster work rally! Watch cement blocks fly through the air.

            Sand is sifted- pure as silk

                        Concrete is smashed!

Rubble is tossed.

And…

            The man with the pickaxe, the smasher, the pulverizer, the DOUGMIESTER!

Kids are half price. Fancy, pseudo, hard-hats for all. Don’t miss this once in a lifetime event. You can buy the whole seat but you’ll only need…

                                    THE EDGE!

Today I went with others to work at the hospital. This hospital has been in progress for at least ten years and has been growing floor by floor. The third floor is built but very rough and the fourth floor is still in progress.

I’m going to be honest, when it comes to mission trips I would much rather be working with people, interacting with people, than doing manual labor. These soft, supple hands are not meant for hard work. I feel that people work hard at something that may or may not have a purpose and then leave saying that they have accomplished so much because they have built a wall. Wow, building walls for Jesus.

Today I hauled cement for Jesus, and I can’t say that I feel as if I have had an impact on individuals. The lack of connection makes this work difficult. I should say that it is good to work with the other people on the team, to connect with them and to get to know them better. That is a worthwhile experience. Yet in the big picture, I’m not a construction guy.

So I have to remind myself what the hospital is about. Haitians do not have support or rights in this part of the Dominican Republic. This hospital was built to offer help to Haitians, medical help. So this hospital is important.

I am a part of the mission of this hospital and the work it is doing to help the many Haitians and Dominicans who need medical assistance. I am a part of the mission to the least of a society. It is a very, very small part, but it is a part nonetheless. Who am I to say that what I do is not important? Who am I to say that what I do is vital? All I can say is that I am a part of a profound ministry of God.

The important thing is that I do not adopt an attitude that the hospital could not exist without me. That is when ministry becomes arrogant. It could exist without me. I am not essential to the future and/or existence of the hospital. So I am humbled to take part in this ministry. It is a privilege to be able to help.

 Gee, two days in a row of being humbled. Maybe I should change the name of my blog.

La Romana 2012- Day Two - All Preaching, All Day, All Loud!

Day two in glorious La Romana

This Sunday started with church… no surprise. Our group split up – half went to have communion at one batey and anther went to have a plain ole’ worship service at a different batey. I was with the latter. The plan was for another pastor and me to lead the service complete with a grad A, Jonathan Malone, bring em’ to Jesus, sermon.

When we got there we found that we would be working with a local pastor who gave us the tour, showed us the church, then started the church service. He preached. He reminded us that in the Dominican Republic there are many, many black people. I was not ready to face that reality. He reminded us that we (Americans) have a black president. I was blown away with that news.

Skepticism aside, his point was that we are all of God’s children despite our skin color. To me it may seem like an obvious message, but one that is important. Perhaps the message was not only for me but also for the people there who may not be used to seeing white people. We do look kinda weird and are kinda scary.

It was a heartfelt service even without my patented, grade A, Jonathan Malone, bring em’ to Jesus, sermon. I’ll save that sermon for next Sunday.

The batey was what I expected and at the same time took me by surprise. I remember the poverty from the last time I was here, but memory blocks some of the details that emphasize the suffering. We were reminded that the children can only go to school up to a certain age (around 12 or 13) and then they go to work in the fields. That if they are lucky enough to go to high school they will not be allowed to go to college. There are very little possibilities to get out of the batey. There are very little possibilities to make life better. Hope for them is something that I do not understand. I have hope for a better life for my children, my wife, and me, but I don’t know if the people who live in the bateyes have that hope. What hope can one have where it does not seem that there is anywhere to go?

The pastor preached about being ready for Christ to call you home (read-heaven) or to return (read – rapture, end-times stuff). The pastor at church this morning preached that we need to be ready for either at any time. This is not a message I often preach, if at all. It tends to be apocalyptic and gloomy and a little to strong with hell and devil stuff for me. Frankly, it makes me scared. Yet I think I can understand where such a message can offer hope to many people. The idea that there may be a better life afterwards may mean more than I can understand for people here in the bateyes of the Dominican Republic. That assurance is powerful and profound. Something humbling for a theological snob to consider.

There was another church in the batey, something Pentecostal where little children are baptized. One batey two churches…. hmmm. I’ll have to write about that later.

This afternoon we went to the beach. It was indulgent. It was unnecessary. It was very, very nice. Blue water, warm, etc…

Tonight, after dinner, we went to another church service. This time it was in the church here in La Romana. There was a lot of very loud music, screaming prayers, and one mostly white group that sang a timid version of, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” I think they were afraid.

Tomorrow I actually get to do some work. I’m supposed to be doing construction which I think means getting coffee and donuts, standing around for an hour, moving one cinder block, standing around for another hour, moving the cinder block back to its original location, and then standing around some more. Can’t wait!

By the way – the suitcase was returned. No major donations were made to the mission for our good efforts. I have no kind words for that person.

A picture of people sorting meds for tomorrow... see, we work!

La Romana The Return - 1 - the wheels on the bus...

Day one – kinda. Actually, it isn’t day one at all because we haven’t been here for a full 24 hours. We have been traveling for almost 24 hours so it feels like it has been a long, long, long day.

Just as I predicted, the day started at the lovely hour of 1:00am (bleh!) where all the Rhode Island folks met and go on the bus. Apparently we got the bus that was upgraded with a hyper-drive and we made it from Rhode Island to Newark, NJ in three hours!

Arriving at 4:00am for a 7:00am flight is always a great experience.

We met up with the folks from Syracuse and Albany and donned our fashionable pinkish, mauve, rose, reddish, nasty hats. See picture below. As a whole family, minus one pharmacist from Maine, we got on the plane and made our way to sunny Santa Domingo.

The flight was fine with just a little bit of turbulence. We grabbed our luggage and a little more (I’ll speak more to that in a bit), and then waited for the final person from Maine to arrive. We waited. We waited. We waited. It was a little more than two hours and spending that time in the food court of the Santa Domingo airport, with the constant din of fast talking Dominicans, crying babies, and complaining Baptists, mixed with the heavy smell of grease made the time feel like days. The final person was greeted with mixed emotions of joy and rage. Lucky him.

Then we had the fun, two-hour ride on the school bus. This time we had the luxury bus that had windows in the front, windows on the side, and a “window” in the floor so we could see the ground. Very classy.

The rest of the evening was pretty standard. We arrived, we ate, we unpacked, and we realized we stole someone’s suitcase. That’s right, we stole a suitcase.

To be fair, no one meant to do it. When you have hundreds of bags to collect it is easy to pick up an extra bag that is not yours. It wasn’t until we were unpacking that we realized that the items in that suitcase were much, much nicer than most of the clothes that were donated. Something was amiss. The major problem – the owner did not put their name on the suitcase. See, your mother was right, put your name on your underwear, your books, your tax forms, and your luggage.

We did the right thing, called the airline, and promised to return the bag… tomorrow. After all, it is late, we are tired, and it would not be safe to go out into the night with a strange piece of luggage. In the meantime, I am going to be praying over the stray luggage, laying hands on it, anointing it with oil, and eventually baptizing the suitcase. I found out that I am preaching tomorrow, so I need to practice on something.

In the meantime – check out this link for something that is more serious and probably has much more useful information on our trip. It is written by a real, live journalist so it has to be good.

Here is a picture of me right before leaving:

Here I am after arriving. Do you see what the bus ride, plane ride, and bus ride has done to me!

La Romana Part Two - The Return!

It’s Time! It’s time for me to return to……

THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC!!

For those who have no idea what I am talking about, feel free to check out my posts on this trip from two years ago.

We are going again. This time I have a better idea what I am getting into. The overall group is smaller, but we have a bevy of medical people. Because there are so many “Gray’s Anatomy” lovers I am probably going to end up doing construction. To prepare for the back-breaking, manual labor I have brushed up on my cursing and cussing lexicon, worked on my cat calls, and have gained 150 pounds so I can have a big ole’ gut. I’m ready to work for Jesus.

As you can see from the below pictures, we are bringing with us drugs. Lots and lots of drugs. They are all legal, but I still feel like a mule.

Tonight we leave at the lovely hour of 1:00am. I can’t wait, and have a list of songs we can sing on the bus from Providence to Newark NJ (ah, lovely Newark, how my heart pines for thee). I bet by the time we get to Newark I’ll be the most popular guy in the group.

So watch this space for updates, rants, crazy pictures, and maybe a song and dance. I can’t promise it will be as fun as Indonesia, but who knows. I’m going with a whole bunch of Baptists, many who look to me as their pastor, so anything is possible.

God help us all.