I found this journal entry that I wrote from Santo Domingo. It describes some of the emotions what I wanted to express in my last post, so I thought I'd share.
March 2023
I am literally sitting on the rooftops of Santo Domingo, looking out over the ocean as I take a moment to journal. As incredible as it sounds, this journey has actually been more challenging than I envisioned. While the country is beautiful, it is also struggling. While the place we are staying is nice, there’s this undercurrent of things falling apart that I can’t quite articulate very well. Skyscrapers abandoned halfway through construction. Cracks and peeling paint. A noisy generator that runs constantly. Electrical outages. And above all, SO MUCH litter. There is trash everywhere, filling all the gutters and lining all the streets. Santo Domingo has a lovely wide sidewalk that runs along the water front, but the garbage is so ubiquitous that is rather ruins the experience—assuming you can actually get to the ocean walk. It runs along a busy four lane highway with no safe pedestrian access. Talia and I tried to cut across while out for a run and finally gave up after five minutes, finding a different intersection.
Driving here is INSANE. I envisioned madness, but this is an entirely new level, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced! Traffic lights are sparse and generally ignored whenever they do exist. You just kind of honk and nudge your way through whenever you feel like it, making as many lanes as you need to accomplish the job. Within the city, the bottlenecked madness is almost hilarious as it crawls along. But out on the faster moving highways, it is completely terrifying at higher speeds as people pass each other even with oncoming traffic. On a two lane road, you’re expected to just move over onto the shoulder and make room for three if need be, even if the vehicle passing you is a minibus or fat truck with plátanos bursting out either side. Oh, and did I mention that there are mopeds everywhere, zipping through the narrow spaces as they pass on the right and on the left, often with three passengers, no helmets and no lights, even at night. They are plentiful on the highways, where they just drive on the shoulders when they can’t keep up with traffic. People too! Walking along and cutting across lanes and lanes of traffic. Driving is a white-knuckle game of Frogger where you constantly pray that you don’t die or kill anyone.
I think for me, the hardest part is the undercurrent of poverty. Okay, let’s be honest. It’s not an undercurrent—it’s a tidal wave washing over everything. In many ways, it exceeds what I experienced in Zimbabwe. Here, I feel both aware and a bit embarrassed of my extreme wealth. It doesn’t seem fair that I was born into such an easy situation with ready access to a great education, clean water, and good healthcare. It’s easy to complain about all the garbage, but what would our nation look like if we had to buy bottled water for safe consumption? What if we didn’t have reliable trash service? I don’t know all the reasons for the DRs pollution problems, but I’m guessing it’s far more complicated than being too lazy to find a trashcan. Also, you have permission to slap me if I ever complain about my house having too few bedrooms or no pantry. Our family is so blessed, through little merit of our own. I feel certain that God loves the child born into a corrugated metal shanty just as much as he loves any of my children. Yet the opportunities available to these children are certainly not equal.
Being here, I’ve thought a lot about Annika. First of all, it’s such a miracle that she has recovered enough to be here with us. But even more, it is a miracle that she is here with us at all. Our Santo Domingo AirBnB happens to overlook the Centro Cardiovascular—the best cardiovascular hospital in the country. Yet I doubt that even this hospital could provide Annika the level of care she needed to survive. I feel both so fortunate and undeserving of the privilege of living in a place brimming with resources to save her. I am unbelievably grateful. A couple nights ago she was dancing on the rooftop with a giant stick, gracefully moving her whole body to a beat only she could hear as she spun, twirled and leaped. My heart was overcome with gratitude for her vitality—for her little heart that tried to quit but has been given new life and keeps on beating. I am so thankful for time, time now together as an entire family. Time before Brooklyn heads off to college and things change. This trip hasn’t been easy, but I’m so grateful we can share these experiences together. I’m grateful to the people of the Dominican Republic for sharing their island with us. It’s very obvious that we are privileged foreigners, yet with few exceptions they have welcomed us with warmth and grace. Finally, I’m grateful for our Savior Jesus Christ. He’s the only one who can clean up all the messes, purifying our hearts and calming the chaos of nations. The Prince of Peace brings love and hope to all people, everywhere.
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