Ponche, Russian Tea, and Jengibre

Our very generous coconut tree

I type "Christmas decor ideas," and my screen fills up with images of evergreens in the snow, cozy cabins with fireplaces, and snowflakes. I look out the window, and I see the grass in our backyard full of coconuts that have sadly gone bad, because we're still not able to keep up with the amount produced by our tree. The passion fruit vine in our garden is loaded. Our neighbors are plowing their land to start planting in the next week. The thermometer inside my house says it's 74 degrees outside - such a cool day; I might even wear a scarf.

Things certainly do look a little bit different on the island. Since the husband is the more aplatano (literally plaintain-ified) in the house, he is the one who makes jengibre every night. Jengibre has become my favorite Dominican drink. It's a tea made of fresh sliced ginger and cinnamon.
However, as a true Guatemalan, what I really crave during this time is a little bit of ponche.  The quintessential Christmas drink, it's made of pineapple, apple, and other fruits brought to a boil with some spices and sugar. The husband doesn't really go for it. What he would have on any given afternoon during this season is Russian tea.

All three drinks will be available on Christmas day.

And so, our little multicultural family is learning how to pay attention to both old traditions and new. We now have three different cultures intertwining every single day. It's a complicated dance. And it is hard to keep up the pace of that dance. The husband has lived outside of his home country for eighteen years now, split between two countries. I have lived outside of my home country during 12 years, split between three different countries. The boys have been born in a country that is their own but not their parents'. It would be so much simpler to just pick one. We could choose to just keep one language at home, and focus on living out of just one culture. Yes, it would be a lot easier, specially because we would actually fit in somewhere.

Yet, if we chose the easy way, we would go unchanged. Our cultures would go unchallenged. I love Guatemalan culture. It is rich, and it is beautiful. However, I would be deceiving myself if I said it did not have its weak spots. Same goes for the other two cultures in this household. So, we are constantly pushed to think about what we say and do. Yes, we crack jokes in this house about each others' countries. We say our peace. We also ask tough questions. We enter deep conversations asking, 'why do they do this or that in the U.S. or in Guatemala?' 'Why do you think they do this or that here?' And the most beautiful part of the whole deal is that it will never be done. This tension will never be resolved. We will never arrived at an 'aha' moment or at a moment where we said we equally integrated the three or we came at a moment of comfort.

I have yet to learn a lot about island living. I am by no means an expert on Dominican culture or its history yet. I only hope that I will be able to walk within these cultures with honor and love.

Update on David's Health

We had a "fun" day in Santiago this week. It was time for David's six-week post-Kawasaki treatment echocardiogram to make sure his heart and associated blood vessels had not been damaged by the Kawasaki. Read this blog entry about his illness. I (Roy) had to get some dental work done and Rebeca had to have a little lab work done to follow up with a doctor's visit last week. We had a good plan we thought: get to Santiago about 10am, get the echo done, give a blood sample at the same hospital, get some lunch, do a little Christmas shopping, then go to the dentist. The plan didn't quite work out. My dental checkup ended up being dental surgery. The echo didn't happen until the time of my dental fun, so Rebeca had to handle alone both Daniel the explorer and David the uncooperative unhappy patient, then wait a couple of hours for my ordeal to end and for me to pick them up.

But the good news was worth it. David god a clean bill of health! His heart suffered no damage in his bout with Kawasaki. We are done giving him daily doses of aspirin and having him bleed and bruise more easily than normal. We had been pretty optimistic that this would be the result, but receiving it still was a burden released. We are thankful. Thank you for your prayers during this process!

Of Privilege and Entitlement

A few days ago, my brother wrote about the infamous car rides we endured as kids. I did not like riding in the car with my family very much. First, as the brother mentions, I got car sick a lot (a lot). Second, more than likely, I was going to a place I had not personally chosen to go to. Third, it was the place where all bets were off. We were either late going somewhere, or we were just tired and cranky returning from somewhere. And we fought. Sometimes, things would get so intense inside that car, that the parental unit would pull over, and make the biggest troublemaker of the moment get out of the car and walk a few blocks.

While it was somewhat amusing to remember those times and think about how ridiculous all of that must have looked, there was something in the story that really bugged me. In the middle of one of those not-so-happy moments, my brother was asked to change seats and complained, "this isn't fair!" I replied to his complaint with a snark "Life is not fair." Reading my reply to his frustration made me feel very uncomfortable, because I know exactly where that reply came from.

I had a very special place within my family. I was the first born daughter. My parents lost three pregnancies after I was born, so for five solid years, I was it. Then, after three high-risk and very awaited pregnancies, three baby boys were born. By the time the third brother was born, I had a secured spot in firstborn-and-only-daughter hierarchy. Yup, I was a daddy's girl.

On top of that was the fact that I had also been born to a very intelligent evangelical feminist. My mother was a preacher who did not conform to social or cultural stereotypes, and nobody-will-ever-put-you-my-baby-girl-in-the-corner was pretty much how she went about me.

And that was the place where the 'life is not fair' reply came from. At some point, I became so convinced that whatever special treatment I had within my family, I had earned it. In fact, technically, I had been born with it. In many different circumstances, I had it easier than the brothers. A lot of times it was out of the aforementioned dynamics. Other times, it was just because I was in a different season of life. However, as I look back at that scene in the car, I have been mulling over the same question in the past few days, 'Why didn't I offer up my seat?'  Because I was entitled to my comfortable spot.

Let the brothers fight, cry, and complain about their unlucky current state. Not my problem. Let them continue being uncomfortable. Let them continue to fight each other. Let them continue having the smaller bedroom. Let them continue being bullied. Because, yes, life isn't fair, and it is currently tilted in my favor, and I don't want to risk losing.

My parents carved a special place for me in the family. They did it out of love and a deep conviction of what Kingdom life looks like. I imagine them as the young couple they were, fresh out of seminary, working full-time at a church. I imagine them holding their new baby girl. I imagine my mom, knowing about all the stories she hears, thinking of how her jaw clenches and her own skin gets tight when she sees women being treated as less worthy because of their gender. I imagine my dad thinking of his own mom, the only daughter in a family of seven boys, and all the pain she's suffered, because she was the girl. And I imagine them thinking not for her, we mustn't let it happen... we need to do something different. And they do, they create this safe and nurturing place for the woman that I will become.

What a sweet spot to be in. Yet, how afraid I was so many times of losing it. At times, I was convinced that this was my divine right. Most times, I was so wrapped up in how good it felt that I became ambivalent to the needs of those around me. Isn't that what we do, though? Day after day we hear our brothers and sisters saying "this is not fair!" Another momma buried her child after a shooting. A friend's sister lost her house to a fire. A boss just took off to another country and left his employees without any pay. A husband left and never returned to care of his wife and two girls. How do we respond, out of our pimped seat? Are we willing to say, "hey, why don't I ride in the back for the rest of the trip. Come on up, the breeze is pretty nice right now."

The Toddler and The Baby in a Manger

I love Christmas season. It has always played an important part in my family life. We decorated our house the last weekend of November, making it toddler-proof as much as we could. As the days went by, I caught David as he was trying to reach for the Nativity scene on top of the piano. Since the pieces aren’t breakable, I just watched, thinking that, being the rural boy he is, he was going to play with the sheep – something so familiar and ordinary to him.

Part of Our Nativity Scene

However, as I watched closely, he just grabbed the baby figure, and brought it close to Mary. I asked, “what are you doing?” and he replied, “tetita”. That’s his word for nursing. He added, “baby eat.” I thought that was cute, and left him playing. After a while, I returned, and asked “did the baby eat?” David replied, “otro lado.” The other side. Of course, I thought. A baby needs to eat his fill.

Innocent and funny as that interaction seemed, the image stayed with me throughout the day. I had never thought of Jesus as a nursing baby. However, to David, Jesus is a baby, and thus can relate so well… he being nursing baby himself. So, naturally, his first thought when seeing the baby in a manger was to pick that baby up, and bring him to his momma’s breast.

Not the case with this breastfeeding mama.

David and Mama during a nursing session

This has been a hard year for me. No big tragedy. No big disaster. It’s just been the constant day to day battles that half the time feel like I’ve lost – the kid who throws tantrums, the baby who still wakes up in the middle of the night, the kid who now is afraid of the dark, the messy floor after every single meal, the overflowing never-ending to do list. It seems that on a constant basis somebody needs something from me. I have no moments to myself.

And more often than not, I have felt like Christ and I don’t have much in common these days. How can I relate to the one who made blind men see, and the lame walk, the one who came back from the dead? Such power and glory! I often feel powerless and by no means have my act together. But David made me rethink this mystery – Who is this Immanuel, God with us, Word made flesh? Who is this God who decided to enter the world as one of us breastfeeding babies?

 “Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are – yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.”

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving had special meaning for Rebeca and me this year. At the beginning of November our two-year old David was diagnosed with Kawasaki disease, which is a rare condition which causes swelling of the blood vessels, fever, rash, and achy/swollen joints, among other things. It is never fun to see someone you love suffering, but it is especially hard when it is a small child who is normally so full of life and energy. Thankfully we were in the US. We saw the hand of the Lord caring for us in so many ways. His fever started the day after we flew in from the Dominican Republic. If David had already had a fever when we flew in, we might have had an interesting time at JFK - one of the airports in the middle of the Ebola scare. The first day of his fever we were with one of our good friends who is an experienced pediatrician. He examined him then and found no reason for alarm as David only had common flu symptoms at that point. But more importantly we were on the radar of our de-facto pediatrician in the US, who was the one who first diagnosed this as Kawasaki.

We are very thankful that we were not in the DR when this happened. One of the common viruses affecting people here right now is Chikungunya, which causes fever, joint pain, and rash like Kawasaki, yet Chikungunya is mostly just uncomfortable. You just ride it out and treat the symptoms. That approach with Kawasaki can be fatal.

We are also thankful that my parents live only a few minutes from a world-class children's hospital, thankful for family and friends around us while David was there, and most of all, thankful to see him bounce back quickly after treatment. Seeing him healthy, energetic, and enthusiastically exploring his world has made us realize just how sick he was and the difference has really made us appreciate more the life of our beautiful son. This has also made us more sensitive to those around us who are suffering.

We think that David is out of the woods, but the statistic that Kawasaki is still fatal to 0.17% of kids who receive treatment is not comforting. We continue to pray that his six-week echo cardiogram will be clean and that the necessary aspirin regimen until then will not open the door to Reye's syndrome. And we try to appreciate every day we have with our beloved, fun-loving son. There are moments with two-year-olds that are difficult to hold on to that attitude, but most of the time we live in thankfulness for the life of David and thankfulness for the hand of God in this process.

Camp 1 Pictures

Below are some of our favorite pics from the first outreach camp of summer 2014.

Impact on the Community

My role with Young Life is one of equipping others to reach teenagers for Jesus. I love hearing stories from those I help equip about the impact that Young Life is having in their communities. In a pre-camp meeting, we were sharing about how things were going, and Roberto told the following story about how he had seen God at work the past week. There were two boys who wanted to come to camp, but didn't have the money. Roberto said he would help them sell doughnuts to earn money for camp. All day long they walked the streets of La Vega selling doughnuts. But when they told people why they were selling them, great conversations would occur. Many people who had no desire to eat a doughnut would buy two or three and give them to their friends. After a full day of this, one of the boys remarked that there were so many people they had met during the day who lived without hope. These two kids may not yet have a relationship with the Lord, but they understand the fundamental need we all have for hope.

Roberto Martinez

At the end of the day, Roberto went to the barber shop to get a haircut before going to camp. His barber told him that he had seen him with the two boys that day and wondered why he would spend time with them. Roberto explained his work with Young Life, and his barber told him through tears that if he had had someone like Roberto to walk alongside him in his teenage years, his life would have been different. I was fortunate enough to have not only great parents but other adults that walked alongside me, mentoring and guiding me in ways that my parents could not. Young Life is a relational ministry. We love encouraging the Robertos of this world to build relationships with adolescents who badly need an adult friend to point them in the right direction.

Outreach Camp Schedule

Some of our supporters like to see the camp schedule. Some pray for key elements, others just like to know more about what camps look like. Below is a schedule for this summer's outreach camps at Pico Escondido.

Groups love Pico Escondido

Pico Escondido hosts more than Young Life groups. We have tons of churches and other Christian groups from the Dominican Republic who want a great place for their retreat or camp. Here is what Doulos Discovery School & Grace Bible Church of Texas had to say:

Young Life requires each of their camps to bring in enough revenue to cover the costs of operations. We will have more than 25 non-Young Life groups stay at Pico this year. This allows us to keep costs very low for Vida Joven activities, charging them less than what it really costs. The outside user groups are happy because we provide them with a top-notch facility at a reasonable cost, so everyone wins.

Tea Cups And A Coffee Carafe

The cup my great-grandma used to serve cafe con leche to mom

One of the memories that has stayed with me throughout life is my mom yelling at a guy unloading things from a bus rack in the border between Honduras and Guatemala. It's January of 1987; I am six. It's late afternoon, getting dark, and we have traveled a long way from Guatemala City. The trip had been postponed for days, because our car was broken, but it had finally been fixed. We were ready to move to Tegucigalpa, since my dad had been appointed pastor at a church in the city. As we were leaving, I remember carrying one of my most valuable possessions with me - a little book with a Mary Poppins story and the accompanying 45 rpm disc. I carefully set the record in the back of the car, so I wouldn't accidentally break it. We said our goodbyes. My grandparents, aunts and uncles were waving, and crying, as we were getting ready to drive away for the next ten hours to the new country that was to become our own.

Why I Think I'm Becoming A Toddler

For years we've known that whenever a group of women live together, eventually, their periods will get in sync - which makes it for a really fun time when everyone in the house is PMSing together. I was unaware of this reality since I grew up surrounded by boys, but after four years of dorm life in college and five years with roommates, I can say that this has proven to be true.

I have been living in close proximity to a toddler for the last ten months, and as I take a close look at my daily life, I think I am becoming one. Here's an honest look at the striking similarities I find between my 21-month-old and my 34-year-old self.

Sixty Lessons I Learned From My mother (Part 3)

I've been wanting to continue writing these, but I just haven't set the time aside to do it. Truth is, it's hard to write these lessons, even though I have them already on a notebook. They remind me of mom. I sit in front of the computer, reminiscing of times long gone, and wishing she could now see the new memories I get to make in the life she equipped me to a large extent to live. But, here are (finally!) the next ten lessons. Hopefully I'll be able to deliver the next ones without too much time in between.  

Pico Project Update

One of our goals at Pico Escondido is to continually improve it. From the start, we have invited work teams from the US to come help us make Pico Escondido and excellent place for meet Jesus and grow in their faith. Each year we identify our top priorities for projects, and those projects that have enough tasks that are appropriate for volunteers we complete with work teams as we are able. It is fun to see progress, not only for Pico staff, but for the volunteers who have worked on these projects and people who regularly come to Pico. This Spring I was speaking with the director of a Christian school in Santo Domingo that has multiple retreats at Pico every year. He told me that one of the reasons he loves coming to Pico is that while many facilities he has visited steadily degrade year after year, Pico continues to steadily improve. Below I will paste some sequences of pictures of projects from this year to show how they have progressed. We had 173 work team participants in the March and April, two small teams last week and next week, and then we will have about 150 more people come in June. Most of the projects we started in March we hope to finish between now and the end of June to once again present a "new and improved" Pico Escondido to five weeks of outreach camp participants in July and August. Stay tuned for more pictures.

Enramada (Dining Hall) Improvements

Starting demo work to make way for new roof columns

Wall Going Up

Roof Columns Going In

Siding Being Prepped

Siding Being Installed

Almost Done!

Parking Area Improvements

Clearing and digging first footer

Starting walls

Blockwork done and base coat of stucco on

Amphitheater

First Aid Hut

Old Rock Work Removed

Walls Started, Sidewalk being Repaired

Walls Almost Done

Walls Done, Ready for Roof Forms

Giant Swing Gazebo

Benches Getting Installed

Benches Sanded

Benches Stained

Door Installed

Thanks to all who worked on these projects!

Sixty Lessons I Learned From My Mother (Part 2)

This week, as I celebrate a baby's third month and soon another one's nineteenth, I am particularly touched by the lessons I learned from doña Elsa regarding motherhood.

To Love Children. This one, I think, was a non-negotiable for her. Perhaps she just couldn't help herself. She loved every child she met. Every. Single. One. She took delight in each baby she held - their cry, their smell, their coos. She loved talking to toddlers and finding out who they were. She was fascinated to hear stories and jokes from older children, and enjoyed giving them presents. She simply loved children, and was a grandma to many.

To Keep Your Children Close. So, the story goes like this: In the five years between me (the oldest) and my next brother, my mom had three miscarriages, thyroid problems, rheumatic fever, and a heart infection. Needless to say, she spent a lot of time in bed, and in order to keep up with her toddler/preschooler, she started asking me to come to bed and share with her what I was up to. After a while, and regardless of her health, the tradition stuck, and even as teenagers and young adults, we would all end our day in my parents' bed, sharing with mom about what had happened to us, our dreams, heartaches, dilemmas, life. And she kept us close to her, taking us wherever she could, getting us as involved in what she did as possible, not missing a chance to spend time with us.

To Let Your Children Go. And as much as she kept us close, she let each and every one of us go. At eight, she dropped me off for my first two-nights-away-from-home camp. At thirteen, I started spending part of my summers working as a volunteer at a camp. And at eighteen, she dropped me off (her only daughter!) at the airport, to send me to a school she wouldn't get to see until my junior year,  her only previous contact with the school being the international students director she met only once during a one-hour interview.

To Let Your Kids Be Themselves. Letting go of us came together with the fact that she let us be ourselves. Don't get me wrong - the woman didn't take any crap (from nobody), so there were things we could never get away with. But the superficial, peripheral details, she chose to not fuss over. Like the two times I pierced my face. She knew each of her children to be different, and delighted in each one.

To Teach Your Children How To Think For Themselves. This one is tricky. You run the risk that at some point, your children won't think like you do - which happened to her on many occasions.  But she loved us more than she loved her opinions, and she taught us how to think and develop our own. I can still hear her say ¡Usen su cerebro... no el mío! (Use your own brain, not mine!).

To Celebrate Your Kids. Sometimes, we would come inside after an afternoon of playing, and she would start singing "A Very Merry Unbirthday To You!" and we would discover she had baked a cake and decorated the house for an unbirthday party. Birthdays were a big deal - we got to choose our own cake, months in advance (from the one and only cake decorating book she ever had), and she would deliver...every time. (I think my dad can build a cake mold in pretty much any shape you need). And Children's day in our house was a full blown-out extravaganza.

To Dream With Your Kids. She listened to each one of our dreams. Some of them happened with time; some of them she pushed us to make happen. Others are still in dream stage, and some of them might never come to be. But she dreamed with us, and never underestimated or ridiculed what stirred up our hearts. If it held our gaze, it was worth it for her to look at and admire also.

To Teach Your Kids How to Stand Their Own Ground. Again, another one that can backfire, because a lot of times we were standing our ground against her. But I am glad she taught me well how to say "no," and also how to say "oh yes, I will."

To Love Your Children's Friends. My friends were always welcome in our house. She was a friend to them also. She cried with me over the ones who passed away. She celebrated their exciting news as if it had happened to one of her own kids. This meant the world to me, and I know also to the many friends who got the chance to get to know her.

To Let Your Children Know You. We got to see her as the whole person she was - not just as our mami. She let us know her passions, her wit, the way she lived her faith every day, the things that made her tick, her heartaches, her hardships. She allowed us to see her at her brightest and also at her darkest. She lived an open and honest life with us, and by doing so made ours so much fuller.