I'm still on Santo Domingo time as I write this at 6:20 AM. I've been wide awake for about an hour and a half, knowing that it's after 9:00 AM on a small Caribbean island and that traffic is crazy, the morning school shift is underway, and life is going on three hours ahead of me as I sit in the still dark (and cold) early Fort Collins morning.
I savor these first few days after getting home. It's like holding a newborn baby - so quiet and sweet and precious, who in just a few short weeks will grow and change and never be that newborn again.
There is a stillness in my soul and a gentleness in my heart that I don't seem to find anywhere else except after spending 8-10 days outside of my own country, surrounded by those with much less than me materially but so much more relationally and spiritually.
I think a lot of people want to go on a mission trip because they truly believe they can save the world in the course of seven days. People who have maybe never stepped foot in a soup kitchen in their own community or shared their faith with the neighbor across the street. To be honest, I've never done either of those things either. And I know for sure that my week in Santo Domingo didn't result in any great changes in anyone's life except maybe my own.
But this trip more than any other taught me some important things. I learned how to walk slower, how to listen without needing to speak, how to care for those with needs far greater than my own. I learned that forgiveness sets one free but that there is wisdom in creating boundaries with those who have caused great harm. I also got to meet one of the girls I sponsor through Compassion International. I plan to blog separately about that experience, but for now I can say that while my week in Santo Domingo didn't save or change Estrella's life in one instant, my monthly commitment to her over the course of the next 7 or 8 years will change her life.
I know that in a few more days I will be sucked back into the frantic pace of my American life. I will stay in bed until 7:00 AM and moan and whine about things like my obnoxious cat or not being able to make the copy machine work. All of the silly things that distract me and keep me stressed. But for today I sit quietly in the dark morning holding my quiet and gentle heart, grateful for the stillness that poverty, chaotic traffic, and unfamiliar language brings to my soul.
I savor these first few days after getting home. It's like holding a newborn baby - so quiet and sweet and precious, who in just a few short weeks will grow and change and never be that newborn again.
There is a stillness in my soul and a gentleness in my heart that I don't seem to find anywhere else except after spending 8-10 days outside of my own country, surrounded by those with much less than me materially but so much more relationally and spiritually.
I think a lot of people want to go on a mission trip because they truly believe they can save the world in the course of seven days. People who have maybe never stepped foot in a soup kitchen in their own community or shared their faith with the neighbor across the street. To be honest, I've never done either of those things either. And I know for sure that my week in Santo Domingo didn't result in any great changes in anyone's life except maybe my own.
But this trip more than any other taught me some important things. I learned how to walk slower, how to listen without needing to speak, how to care for those with needs far greater than my own. I learned that forgiveness sets one free but that there is wisdom in creating boundaries with those who have caused great harm. I also got to meet one of the girls I sponsor through Compassion International. I plan to blog separately about that experience, but for now I can say that while my week in Santo Domingo didn't save or change Estrella's life in one instant, my monthly commitment to her over the course of the next 7 or 8 years will change her life.
I know that in a few more days I will be sucked back into the frantic pace of my American life. I will stay in bed until 7:00 AM and moan and whine about things like my obnoxious cat or not being able to make the copy machine work. All of the silly things that distract me and keep me stressed. But for today I sit quietly in the dark morning holding my quiet and gentle heart, grateful for the stillness that poverty, chaotic traffic, and unfamiliar language brings to my soul.
Amen!
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