Life from A Glimpse

Life at Play

The new ride that I got after coming down here.  Unless it is raining hard, I use this bike to go everywhere, including the occasional joy ride through the mountains.

Went on a motorcycle trip with a good group of friends to this beautiful dam!  

Mmmmmm!  Only thing better than the beautiful dam is the fresh fish that come from it.

A Saturday afternoon bike trip!  Thought it would be fun and relaxing trip but turned out we climbed a mountain via a hiking path.  Jumped boulders, went through rivers and managed to flip my bike once!  All in all an adventure filled day.

Bought a new grill and threw a party to try  it out.  Nothing like not having to grill at your own party.

Cheering on my roomate to a victory in the annual city wide volleyball tournament!

Life at Work

Dania, one of our associates, poses for a picture in front of her fritura.  She sells fried foods as well as fruits and vegetables.

Valentine's day party for our bank coordinators and their husbands.   We ate cake , played a lot of games, and had a short devotional.

Eating dinner at Ramona's house with several students from the states.  A great time  for students to be able to connect with the community and the culture.

Working at Juliana's chicken farm where Hannah received the experience of milking a goat for the first time.

Miriam, my coworker at the Microfinance Site, peels yuca.  When students from the states are working along side us, we often take them to serve in women's businesses.

Miriam and I with one of the groups of students that spent their week here in the DR at the Microfinance Site.  The group included a high school student, an accountant, and a youth pastor.  They were different in age and occupation but unified in their desire to serve at the site.

Justice

I pulled out of the airport taking the well lit road towards the highway being careful to slow down for all the random speed bumps that were, for whatever reason, placed in the middle of nowhere. I turned onto the entrance ramp and slowly merged onto the deserted highway.  It was 1:30 a.m. and apparently everyone else had already decided to call it a night.  My friend Mark and I didn't have that luxury as we had dropped Mark's friend off at the airport for his 3 a.m flight.  Mark and I sat silently as we continued along the highway in my green Honda CRV.  In the distance I noticed a man run out into the middle of the road waving a flashlight.  As we got closer, I saw that it was two uniformed police officers so I pulled over as they instructed.  I sat in the car nervously wondering what I did wrong as one of the uniformed officers walked around to the drivers side door carrying a very large shotgun.

I rolled down my window and the officer pleasantly greeted us.  He asked me for my license and the documentation for my car.  I gave him both and he took them not even bothering to look at either.  He began explaining to me that him and his partner were responsible for protecting the people of this area.  I knew full well that he only wanted a bribe but I sat there quietly not moving or saying a word.  Even after he had finished talking, I continued to sit quietly playing dumb.  Unfortunately, I already knew I had given myself away at the beginning as I had been speaking in Spanish with him.  Frustrated with me, the officer looked right at me and simply said, I'm not going to leave until you give me something for protecting the people in this area.  I thought about continuing to pretend I didn't understand but the shotgun in his hands along with the corruption of the justice system here persuaded me otherwise.  I pulled out my wallet and gave him some cash.  He handed my license and documents back and told me to have a good night.  

As I pulled away, anger started churning inside of me like a bad stomach ache.  How the crap do they call that justice? Those guys are not protecting anybody.  They are simply sitting beside the road and robbing the people they claim to protect.  Just thieves in good guy uniforms.  The rest of the 40 minute drive home, I thought about all the things that I would have liked to ask him.  "Are all cops just selfish jerks like you?  Do you have any respect for your country or for any of the people in it?  Did you become a cop just so you could rob people?  Do you have any idea what your uniform symbolizes and stands for?"

Thankfully when I got home I was exhausted enough from the day to fall asleep.  However, even to this day, a full two weeks later, I feel the anger that rises up inside of me when I remember the situation.  I don't feel angry about the money he stole but mostly about the fact that he was an incredibly unjust man in a uniform that represented justice.  However, over the past two weeks I've wondered often if I'm that different from the police officer I encountered. I tell people I am a Christian and it is a uniform that represents justice.  I may not have intentions to use my uniform to steal from people or deliberately treat people unjustly but sometimes I simply forgot what my uniform symbolizes or that I'm wearing my uniform at all.  I think God must be fairly angry when I wear his uniform yet my actions don't line up with that uniform or when I simply haven't spent the time to know what it represents.  

May God help me to remember:

That God's justice is showing grace and mercy to those who don't deserve it.  (even the police officer who robs from the people.)  Zechariah 7:9-10

That God's justice is doing to others as you would have them do to you. Matthew 7:12

That God's justice is not being partial to the poor or deferring to the great, but judging with justice.  Leviticus 19:15

That God'd justice is loosing the chains of injustice and untying the cords of the yoke, setting the oppressed free and breaking every yoke, sharing your food with the hungry and providing the poor wanderer with shelter---when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood. Isaiah 58:6-7

That God's justice is leaving a position of authority, becoming humble and making yourself nothing, becoming a servant, and dying a painful and undeserved death.  Phillipians 2:5-8

Alive and Kicking

 It is officially Day 58 for me in the DR and that seems crazy to say.  In some ways, it feels like it was just yesterday that I anxiously sat on a plane wondering what the next several months would hold yet in other ways, it seems like I have been down here for much longer.

I have officially settled in to my apartment down here.  It was an incredible blessing to move into an apartment with all my furniture and appliances ready to use.  Ryan Holloway, the previous Microfinance Director lived with me for the first three weeks, followed by several weeks of living alone before my friend Mark arrived a few weeks ago to be my new roommate.   My apartment is much too big for just me so thankfully through Super Bowl parties, a weekly Guacomole and TV night, new roommates, and friends, God has sent people to fill the empty spaces.  Another gift that God has given me so far is a fun group of Dominican guys to spend time with.  They enjoy doing things outdoors and we especially enjoy driving dirt bikes through the mountains.  It has been incredible to drive through the dirt roads of the mountains and simply the beauty of God’s creation.

Overall, while adjusting to living down here has gone smoothly, it has not been without its challenges and frustrations as well.  Many times, simple tasks become long drawn out tests of my patience.  About a month ago, I went to a communication services company called Claro in search of internet service for my apartment.  Since this is a large company here in the DR, I figured that it would be a quick and painless process.  I’ve never been more wrong.  3 trips to the service center in Jarabacoa, 3 round trips to the service center in La Vega (35 minute drive), 5 ½ hours of waiting, 3 hours of working with service reps, leaving in the middle of a meeting to meet a service technician and 3 phone calls later I finally had internet.  Other unfortunate events have been my car breaking down 45 minutes away at the airport, hitting a guy on a motorcycle with my car and killing a dog on my dirt bike within 4 hours of each other, and being stopped by a cop for doing nothing wrong yet not being allowed to leave until I gave him a bribe.

The first several months of working at the MF (Microfinance) site have been excellent.  While language barriers and a lack of technical and cultural knowledge have definitely made the site challenging at times, I have greatly enjoyed my work.  Over the past two months, Miriam, the Dominican lady I work with, and I have planned for the vision of the site, implemented a new accounting system, created a new banking group with Student’s International national staff, and hosted two teams of students.  While all that work has been fun for me personally, the most rewarding parts have been the personal contact that I have made within the banks.  Whether it has been helping Ramona begin her dream of building her own house, business coaching with Liliana as she starts a new restaurant, or simply spending an afternoon chatting with Frankely, the 22 year old son of one of our associates who was paralyzed in a motorcycle accident last summer, it has been neat for me to see the way that the site is able to not only care for people’s financial needs but also address their emotional and spiritual needs as well. 

There is much more that could be said but I think I will save it for another letter as my computer is going die soon and I currently don’t have electricity at my house.  Thank you for all of you that have updated me on what has been going on in your life and for those of you that have been praying for me.  Continue to pray for the MF site that we would continue to become more like Jesus in both the personal connections and administrative tasks.  Continue to ask that the Holy Spirit would lead me and guide me as I lead and guide this site.  May God’s glory be made evident in the actions of our lives as we continue to rest in the joy our salvation.  I love you all.

Process

The candle lit the small outdoor shack which housed the fugon, a small cement stove that many Dominicans use to cook.  The room was small but my friends and I crowded in hoping to make ourselves a pot of coffee.  My friend Moreno grabbed some firewood and began stoking the small fire that must of been started earlier in the evening.  Soon smoke filled the room and flames started leaping through the wood.  A pot of water was put over the fire.  While we waited we sat and listened to my friend Melvin's dad share stories from his life.  Once the water had boiled, coffee was added to the hot water and we waited some more.  Melvin's dad shared another story.  The coffee finished boiling and was poured from the pot through a small filter into each cup individually.  Finally, an hour after initially deciding to have coffee, we sat in the shed and enjoyed the warm black liquid together.

As I sat there enjoying my warm coffee and listening to Melvin's dad start into another story, I couldn't help but think about the process of making coffee.  Back at my house, I could have simply put some grounds into a filter, thrown some water into the machine, and flicked on a button.  Five minutes later, a pot of black coffee would be waiting for me.  Here, the process had taken over an hour and had required more work and attention, yet nobody seemed to be bothered by the length of time we waited.  Somehow, it was as if everybody simply knew that making coffee was about more than just the end product, it was about enjoying the process.  It was about sharing time with people, sharing stories, and enjoying the smell of the coffee brewing on the open fire.  

While waiting for a cup of coffee seems like such an insignificant event, it was a personal reminder for me that God works through the processes of life. That he is refining me, molding me, and shaping me through the process of life.  That finished products don't happen overnight but are fashioned over time.  That God is forming me perfectly and that I am to take joy in that.  He desires that I would be joyful as I hang out with friends, enjoy the beauty of this country, and watch as women's businesses grow and provide abudantly.  He desires that I would be joyful as I spend 20 hours trying to get internet at my house (doesn't mean you can't get upset), take a man to the hospital after a motorcycle accident, and as I struggle to clearly communicate important details during a bank meeting.  May each of you continue to find joy in the processes of life, whether good or bad, as God continues to form us into his likeness.

Rain

As I sit here in my apartment, I once again listen to the rain pounding the pavement on the road outside. While I love listening to the rain from inside my comfortable apartment, the rain here is continually causing inconveniences for life outside.  I almost always ride my motorcycle to places when the sun is showing its beautiful face only to have it start pouring down rain an hour later leaving me stranded wherever I am.  Sometimes the rain catches me in the middle of a drive soaking my clothes, my backpack and me.  The dirt roads become nothing more than a sea of mud puddles which if you are not careful leave your shoes and jeans looking like a puddle as well.  It negatively impacts businesses; it changes my plans; and overall it makes things messy.

As it poured down rain one morning this week, I sat in my office and God brought to my mind Isaiah 55.  "As the rain and snow come down from heaven and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth:  It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for what I sent it."  I always liked this verse because it always reminded me of fresh buds which would bring spring flowers and new green vegetation.  Yet somehow I never really thought about the entire process.  I never focused on the muddy process of the melting snow and pouring rain that made it possible for those things to grow.

Liliana has 4 kids, a husband who drinks way too much and doesn't help enough, and recently just started a second business in order to further provide for her family.  She starts her work day at 5:00 AM and ends it at 8:00 PM.  She finishes her day, falls into bed only to wake up and do it all over again, not just 5 days a week but 7.  She desperately wants a better life for her and her kids and that dream drives her to move forward.

Sila has 8 grandchildren that live around her house.  She works at an orphanage making a small amount of money in order to provide for her family.  She saves when she can but rarely has any money left over.  Recently, she got very sick and spent three weeks in the ICU at the local hospital.  Not only where the medical bills expensive but it cost her three weeks of work as well.  Her grandkids roam the streets during the day with almost no parental support and sometimes just skip school all together. 

I could continue to fill these pages with similar stories of woman with messy lives.  However, as I have been here, as I have see the rain come in many of the woman's lives, I can see God working through the muddy mess that the rain has caused. Sometimes a small flower is beginning to bloom.  Sometimes a plant is just beginning to poke its head at the ground and sometimes I still only see the muddy puddles.  Yet in all these situations I continue to cling to His promise; for the rain and the messes of life "will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for what I sent it."

I'm Here!

THUD!  The landing gear hit the ground.  It had been a long day of travel but I was finally at my destination.  I had been feeling a bit anxious throughout the day, but that all quickly turned to excitement as I thought about seeing my friend Ryan again who was coming to pick me up.  As quickly as I could (which wasn't very quick since the lines were forever long), I made it through immigration, grabbed my luggage, and went through customs.  As I exited the doors to the airport, throngs of people were waiting outside.  I glanced around trying to catch a view of the SI staff that had come to pick me up.  I spotted Ryan hiding behind a large column along with three other friends from SI.  Being the somewhat emotional guy I am and now being extra excited because extra friends came to welcome me, I dropped all my luggage and sprinted in their direction.  As I approached them, I noticed a guy holding up a sign with my name on it, and I rushed up to him, grabbed his arm and just as I was beginning to lean in for a big hug. my friend Ryan says, "Hey Eric, you don't know that guy!"  I stopped in my tracks and thought, "Oh yeah, I've never seen this guy in my life!"  As it turns out, my friends had brought a sign with my name, given it to a Dominican, and had tried to hide in hopes that I would think they had just sent some random guy to pick me up.  However, in my enthusiasm their attempted joke only allowed me to share my love for the DR with a complete stranger.

Life has been good to me for the two days that I have been here and I feel like I am somewhat settling in to my new apartment.  I've managed to unpack most of my things, get cell phone service, and buy a new water heater so I no longer have to take cold showers.  All in all, it has been refreshing to be here and reconnect with some old friends.  Thanks for all your prayers and continue to pray for me as I hit the ground running tomorrow at the MF site!  

Faith, Hope, Love,

Eric 

P.S.  Here are a few photos of my apartment to give you an idea of what it is like!

Third bedroom that nobody is using.
Also, don't worry, I'm not planning on having a kid.
The crib was left behind by the previous owner.

My Bedroom

John McCain moved into the apartment with me as well!  
He seems to add a unique dynamic!

Bathroom with Shower

The Balcony!  Probably the best part about the apartment!

Second Bedroom.  Where my roommate Mark will be staying once he comes in February!

Dining Room!

Kitchen!

Ryan, the previous MF site leader, hanging out in the living room!
He is staying with me for the three weeks he is here training me.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

As this year rapidly approaches its end, I can't help but wonder how a year can bring so many changes.  A year ago at this time, I was making plans for a return trip to the Dominican Republic mostly because I lacked something "better" to do.  Now, a year later, I'm once again making plans to return to the Dominican Republic only this time it's not because I don't have anything better to do, but because I know that God has led me there and that being there is best for me.

Since my decision last April to return to the DR to work with Students International, life has been a whirlwind full of fundraising, working as a landscaper, working as an Activities Director, Missions Training, more work as a landscaper, more fundraising, and Language Training.  These activities took me to Indiana, Oklahoma, back to Indiana, Michigan, Ohio, Colorado, back to Indiana, Guatemala and finally back home to Indiana.  Life has been full of late nights, hard work, travel, many hellos and goodbyes, doubt, more travel, frustration, conversations in a foreign language, more frustration, and fears of the unknown.  To sum it up succinctly, it has been full of transtion and challenge.  As I have briefly reflected on the story of Jesus birth this Christmas, I can't help but imagine all the transitions that took place for Mary and Joseph.  Excitement of coming marriage, angels visiting, becoming pregnant, fears, traveling, rumors of unfaithfulness, and finally giving birth to your child in a stable.  Yet throughout all of this, God generously provided and abundantly blessed. (although it may not have been the way they thought He would do it) As I think about my transition period this past year, I too must admit that while it has been difficult at times, God has generously provided and abundantly blessed. He has provided me with friends who care deeply, encouraging notes when I have been lonely, a boss who was incredibly flexible, a mind with the ability to adapt and learn, and the INCREDIBLE generosity of friends and family.

As I look ahead to spending the next several years in the DR, I know that more transitions await and more challenges lie ahead but most of all, I know that I have a Father and Savior who is able to do immeasurably more than all I could ask or imagine.  While he may not always provide in the ways that I'm expecting, I look forward to the unexpected gifts that He will shower down from above.  This Christmas season may each of you reflect on the many ways He has provided and enjoy the great and wonderful gift of our Savior's birth. 

Poverty

As I walked the empty cobblestone streets of Antigua, I couldn’t help but feel a little lonely.  It was my first day in the city and I knew no one.  I wandered the streets aimlessly for a few hours discovering all the nooks and crannies that accompany an old colonial city.  After several hours of walking, I was exhausted and collapsed on a bench in the plaza pulling out a book to read.

“Would you please buy something?” the boy pleaded. “You could buy a necklace for your girlfriend?”  I looked up from the book I was reading and quickly glanced at the boy standing in front of me, his eyes pleading with me and his arms loaded with necklaces and scarves.  He was not the first vendor that had interrupted me begging me to buy something.  Still feeling a little lonely and wanting to practice my Spanish, I decided to strike up a conversation with him.  Manuel was 15 years old and lived in a Panajachel, a city about two hours from Antigua.  He came to the plaza in Antigua every weekend trying to sell the artisan crafts his mom made during the week.  He had never attended a day of school in his life.  He had no skills, no money and very few opportunities. The only life he knew was a combination of begging and selling in the plaza for his parents.  I couldn’t help but remember my life at 15.  I had the world at my fingertips (or at least that’s what I thought) and my opportunities were endless.  I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.  I wondered why God had given me so much and Manuel so little.  I wanted to give him the opportunities I had but all I had was some money.  That might help for a moment, but ultimately it wouldn't fix anything.  I bought him some lunch and left.

The following weekend as I was strolling through the plaza, Manuel spotted me from a bench and eagerly rushed over to say hello.  As we continued talking, I noticed anther familiar face.  My Spanish professor Harvey was seated on a bench nearby with a group of Guatemalan men.   I walked over and we exchanged hellos as Manuel slowly followed behind.  Harvey introduced me to his friends and we briefly talked a bit about school and sports. Finally, Harvey looked at me and asked “Who is the boy behind you?”  Without even thinking, I quickly replied “Only a boy named Manuel.” I stood there horrified.  Why had I said “only”?  Quickly bailing myself out, I added that Manuel was my “Spanish Professor” on the street and was teaching me a lot about the culture.  Neither Manuel nor Harvey seemed to notice what I had said and the conversation continued.  Eventually, I said my good-byes to all of them and started making my way back to my house with the words “Only a boy named Manuel” ringing in my head.  “Only a boy named Manuel.” 

As a child, I had been told that God loves and values every human equally,  yet somehow at that moment, I had failed to believe it.  A scripture like “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves.” had lost its meaning.  From my cultural lens, Manuel was somehow worth less because he had less and understood less.  Yet as I continued to think about Manuel, I knew from past experiences I had much to learn from him.  Even though I thought I had many things to offer him, I still needed him more than he needed me.  For my poverty is not a lack of money, a lack of education or a lack of opportunities but is in my understanding of the value and love that God has for others.  While I continue to think of poverty only in terms of things, perhaps it isn't a big enough picture. Perhaps poverty isn’t simply in the lack of money, education, or opportunities but perhaps it is simply settling for less.  Settling for less than He has commanded.  Settling for comfort rather than obedience.  Settling for revenge rather than love.  Settling for material things rather than generosity.  Perhaps, true poverty is simply settling for less than Our King!

A Bigger Story

Walking through my parent’s office the other day, I stumbled upon the book “Horton Hears a Who” by Dr. Seuss.  Even at 24 years old and with quite a few things left on my to do list for that evening, I couldn’t help myself.  I stopped and read it through.  As a young kid before I knew how to read, I remember begging my mom for just one more book.  Whether it was a simple classic like Goldilocks and the Three Bears  or epic stories like the Chronicles of Narnia, I loved the adventures of a well told story. 

As I’ve grown older, my love for stories has neither gone away nor diminished yet the word story has taken on deeper meanings.  No longer are good stories hidden within the pages of books (or perhaps in the hard drive of a Kindle) but are told in the short stories of our lives.  They are toddlers discovering the way the world is put together, a stranger encouraging a single mother struggling to provide for her children, communities coming together to help out those that have not, an engineer working hard to provide clean water for communities that have none , and simply a farmer bringing in the last of the harvest. 

I am often drawn to people whose lives tell stories such as these but not simply because the story in itself is good but because it points to the great storyteller that tells it.  Each of us has been given our own story to tell yet it is not truly our own story.  It is simply a small portion of a greater story that is often forgotten.  It is a story of lasting hope, unending love, and incredible redemption.  It is the story of our Creator.

Tomorrow, I leave for Antigua, Guatemala for six weeks of language school.  While I’m there, my own story will not be as it has been.  I will meet new people, new foods, and a new culture.  But in spite of all the ways that my story will be different, ultimately God is asking me to tell the same story.  It is a story of lasting hope, unending love, and incredible redemption.  It is the story of my Creator.

God Help Me

 “You can’t even love the people closest to you.  You expect to go to another country and love the nationals there but you can’t even love your wife, your brothers, your sisters, your teammates.  How are you going to love people who are so different from you?”  I sat in my seat at Missions Training International (MTI) and tried to let those words sink in.  At first, I thought perhaps Robin, our South African instructor, was being a bit harsh.  I mean after all, maybe I don’t love them perfectly but I certainly do a better job of loving them than most Americans.  Yet as I continued to chew on those words, I began to realize that Robin wasn’t referring to love lightly.  He wasn’t referring to our temporal, shallow, bought you a new trinket so you feel good for a few days, type of love.  He was referring to the sacrificial, suffer on the cross, perfect kind of love that Jesus displayed.  In John 13:35, Jesus calls us to display that love to one another.  "A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”  Robin was right.  I can’t love my family like that.  I can't love my teammates like that and I definitely can't love people from a totally different culture, who speak a different language like that.  I sat in my chair knowing that I wasn't qualified to love like that.  I wanted to love perfectly but I knew I wasn't capable on my own.  God Help Me


As we continued struggling our way through different things that we would face over the next years of our lives, it became brutally obvious that God Help Me was a phrase I would say regularly.

When I’m working at my new job and I’m struggling to understand my new language.  Would you give me patience.  God Help Me.

When I'm trying to navigate my way through the muddy waters of "helping" people.  When someone has an need and it is hard to determine if giving them a handout will truly help or hurt their situation.  God Help Me.

When conflict arises and I don’t know the appropriate steps to fix it.  God Help Me.

When cultural differences arise and I have a hard time discerning if something is simply just different or wrong.  Would I suspend judgment and extend grace.  God Help Me.

When the expectations of my teammates, the nationals, my supporters and myself are pressing me in four different directions. God Help Me.

When I don’t want to deal with the loss that comes with moving far away from home. When I simply want to insulate myself from the pain of loss.  God Help Me.

When the unthinkable happens and disaster strikes.  When I can’t see God as God, God as good, or God as faithful because my circumstances seem to be shouting the opposite.  God Help Me.

God Help Me.  As Americans, we often shy away from being helped.  It is a sign of weakness.  We pride ourselves on our abilities to take care of ourselves, make it on our own and blaze our own path.  We champion the strengths of individuals who can do it on their own.  Yet somehow God is and has been in the business of choosing the weak to accomplish his purposes.  For God chooses those who know where their help comes from, that through their life, they may bring glory to His name.  As I begin this new journey of my life, may my purpose of bringing glory to His name remain the same. God Help Me.