Villa Montellano - camp at Makarios, day two
Let me share one of my favorite memories of camp today: Precious little 6(ish) year old Dauri was playing futbol with me and he kicked it into the large mud area right in front of the goal. I began to hear different people yelling at me NOT to go get it. Apparently my lack of listening traveled with me overseas because I ran to get it for us and immediately sank. My shoes were covered in mud. So i kicked the ball over the Dauri and grabbed a stick to begin scraping it off. All of a sudden Dauri appears, grabs the stick, picks up my foot, turns his back to me so I can hold on to him and begins to scrape the mud off of my feet. He did not stop until the mud was almost entirely off. What a joyful and yet sobering moment, to witness that a young child knows the definition of servanthood better than I do. Sweet Niño.
Today is our break from construction. After lunch at El Campito, we went to visit the two villages that the Mak school kids are bused from....
(Be prepared - if this post seem choppy, or has a lack of detail, it is because I do not feel it appropriate to attempt to describe some of the situations we saw...with that said, please keep these villages and these people in your prayers. I know you don't have specific names or places or prayer requests to pray for...but God works in larger ways than we can comprehend; do not let that limit your prayers - He still hears you :)
...The first village is Chichigua - a Haitian village about 15 minutes down a very narrow, bumpy, dusty path. We pulled up to a group of multi-color, tin dwellings - sure didn't look large enough to be a village, and the housing situation seemed barely liveable. We were told about 100 people now live there. Wow. 100? How? Where? The village was on a hill surrounded by farmland filled with tall sugar cane crop. Uphill from the houses, there was a cleared space full of tall weeds and trash. To the left was the futbol goal: three long, thin tree trunks bound together to create a futbol goal. To the right was the basketball goal: a tall, thin tree trunk in the ground, a piece of flat wood nailed to it as the backboard, and a plastic ring as the hoop.
...This village was extremely hard to see. Most Haitians living in the DR still speak a form of Creole, so it is a little more difficult communicating. However, what was more frustrating was seeing how these kids clearly knew the "white people routine." We come, walk around, stare, take pictures, bring things, play with them for a while, then gather our stuff together and leave. You can see it in their faces and their mannerisms. They were almost "comfortable" with us being there. I now understand just how much of a blessing it is that Makarios is trying to break this norm. They do not want to be an American organization that just passes free things out...because is that what these people need? Does giving these children a bunch of stuff cure their sickness? Does it satisfy their hunger? Does it quench their thirst? Or will it just fuel their prideful, selfish nature like it has me?
...The second village is Poncho Mateo- a village a little closer to the school that has both Haitians and Dominicana's. This village was more spread out, it was in the shape of a semi-circle with a basketball court in the middle. We were told quite a bit of history about this village, some of which I'm not sure is appropriate to share. One thing that may help paint a clearer picture, was that this village used to be segregated with Dominicana's on one side and Haitian's on the other (the basketball court separating the two). Over time, thanks to various events and people, they have begun to mix and for the short amount of time we spent here, the basketball court seemed to be neutral ground, so that is where we played. These kids were a little more open to hanging out with us--we drew with chalk on the cement, blew bubbles, climbed trees, and played basketball. I began to feel myself pulling away from each child I met-not physically, but emotionally. I still played with them, but I didn't ask their names, I didn't ask about their families, I didn't make conversation. I didn't even realize what I was doing until after I got home.
...I came back to the Mak house with lots of mixed emotions. I was still feeling sick all day, so I was exhausted physically, but I realized I was also exhausted emotionally and spiritually - like I had "run out" and my stock needed to be replenished. I realized that emotions cannot sustain us, because there comes a point in which there is too much to sort through.
Lord, I do pray that you heal me physically, but most importantly, I pray you heal me spiritually. Help me to sort out these feelings and emotions and transform my thoughts and my heart to Yours. Remove whatever distraction is holding me back and give me the energy to love these kids the way You love them.
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