Bending

“Most plans are just inaccurate predictions.” Ben Bayol

Seven hours. That’s how long we were without power in my house yesterday. Two days before that we lost power for over three hours. And so it goes. Ours, however, is one of the fortunate households. We now have an inverter that gives us power enough to keep some fans and lights working, but our stove, water, washing machine, refrigerator, microwave, etc. are lifeless when the power disappears. Living in the Dominican Republic these past five months has taught me a variety of things, but flexibility and holding my plans loosely top the list. Will I get laundry done today? I’m not sure. Will the casserole I popped into the oven cook? Perhaps not.

I look around me at the ebb and flow of life here and others don’t seem to be particularly put out by the inconvenience of the unpredictability of it. Down the street from us, for example, laundry can often be found strewn over barbed wire fences to dry and many times I see it later, drenched from a sneaky rain cloud. That's just the way it goes and it doesn't seem to ruin anyone's day, no matter the economic class. One night, while at a restaurant with friends and, after paying the bill and getting up to leave, the power went out and the place went dark. No screams or gasps came from the full dining room of people. Some diners whipped out their cell phones for a bit of light. Waiters scrambled briefly and produced lighters and the evening meal, from what I could see, resumed. I held on to my husband as we each stretched a hand out in front of us and groped our way out the door and into our car, shaking our heads in disbelief and laughing nervously!

Losing power on a somewhat frequent basis as well as people showing up an hour or two late for dinner (“Dominican Time”), and arriving with extra people I didn’t know were coming, and putting clothes on the line only to have them become drenched by an unexpected thunderstorm, and having random “No School Days” because of city-wide strikes are all things God is using in my life to help me go with the flow and trust Him with my day and my “to-do” list. I admit this isn’t easy for me. I’m a planner and these mundane challenges take a toll some days, but God is using them to chisel away some rough spots in need of mellowing. I need to give my day, my plans, to the Lord and bend to what He allows, trusting that God is in control and He loves me. There’s really no better way to live.

“Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.” Proverbs 19:21

Rhythm

My neighbors have a rhythm about them. Early in the morning a couple of the women from the house behind ours--a mom and daughter, I believe--work in their outdoor kitchen. While their rooster is still in full cock-a-doodle-do mode, (it perches in the tree outside my window, grabs a megaphone and mercilessly gets busy at around four a.m. announcing the new day) the women begin their ritual of banging pots and pans and filling them with water for their beans, rice and meat. All the while, they chit-chat. I wish I could join them and enjoy such camaraderie even though I’m not much of a talker in the morning. I admire their side-by-sideness. By the time I’m out of the shower and dressed for the day, the smell of the neighbor’s lunch cooking on their outdoor stove fills my bedroom. The swishing of brooms can be heard on the sidewalks out front and another neighbor is on her roof hanging laundry. It’s 7:32 a.m.

The man with fruit on his head has a rhythm about him. Before lunch and after my Spanish class he a walks down my street balancing a plastic tub of fruit on his noggin, singing “Aguacates, aaaguaacates….” He’s selling more than avocados. His inventory includes bananas, melons, oranges and, when they were in season, mangos. His rhythm includes pounding on my gate, whistling and giving me a dirty look if I don't buy from him. I don’t want to give in to his dirty looks, though I do want to lighten his load and be friends.

The Haitian men working construction down the road have a rhythm about them. They dig, stack, mix, pour, haul and swat at flies. I greet one of the workers with a motherly (not flirty) smile and “hola” as I walk by and he returns the greeting. I wonder how they work so hard when their living (several are squatters in the half-built house two doors down) and working conditions are so difficult. The Haitians here endure much prejudice. Their rhythm of perseverance humbles me. I say a prayer for them.

There are rhythms all around me and, of course, I have several of my own like the timing of my household chores and the partaking of my daily cup of coffee—black, a bit strong, green and white mug. But mostly the rhythm I have here in the Dominican is still being formed. I am grafting my American rhythm with my new Dominican rhythm. I am finding my way and learning a new dance. I desire a rhythm that includes acknowledging God in and through all that I do. I desire a rhythm that glorifies God and blesses others and models for my children contentment and thankfulness.

“So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.” 1 Corinthians 10:31

Rich Indeed

I recently interviewed a Haitian pastor who ministers in Haiti. This man is a national partner with G.O. Ministries (which means a portion of the money we raise to live and minister in the Dominican goes to him). When I heard that he, along with many other Haitian leaders, was coming to Santiago for a conference, I arranged for a translator and set up some interviews. During my interview with the pastor I noticed the weary look on his face. He was very friendly and had a joyful countenance, yet his weathered, leathery skin and tired eyes told me his life wasn’t an easy one.

I don’t know the exact condition of my new friend’s life in Haiti other than he’s a widower with five kids. Also, I know that his congregation’s greatest need isn’t for comfortable chairs or new hymnals, but it’s for food. His people want to serve, he told me, but it’s hard for them because they are so hungry and “need nutrition.” In the midst of this, he encourages them to have faith. My friend lives in poverty, (I have seen poverty to the extreme in the Dominican Republic. I can only imagine what it looks and smells like in Haiti), but he said that ever since he was a small child, he knew there was a God and that he needed Him. He began following Jesus when he was seven and has walked with Him ever since. Something just told him from the time he was a young child that God existed, and he needed to know Him.

Without any bells or whistles, or freshly painted Sunday School rooms, or slick sermons, or paintings of Jesus holding a white lamb, a little Haitian boy knew in his heart that God was for real. And, now as a 50 year old, my friend continues to serve God and others out of his abundance of faith. He is rich, indeed!

I can't say that I understand why God doesn't give my faithful friend a more comfortable life. But, I know God is good and His ways are "inscrutable." Romans 11:33 says: “Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable His ways."