I was aboard a plane and anxiously awaiting its arrival in my favorite place in the world. I waited 9 years for the chance to return to the country whose people captured my soul. My heart had never tasted pure joy and excitement before that moment. I was headed to the Dominican Republic with 40 strangers in various medical-related fields. We were going for a week to operate a clinic and serve the people. I had no idea what I was going to do as a teacher with no medical experience but I couldn't miss this opportunity.
After being held up at the Dominican airport for nearly two hours, we were officially on our way. On the bus, one of the members of our group mentioned a lady who was not on the trip for the clinic, either. She would be going to a school in one of the nearby villages every day. This was perfect for me because I could spend the week doing something I love. Did I immediately search for the woman and eagerly inquire about accompanying her to the school as soon as I heard this amazing news? Absolutely not.
In fact, I had no intention of talking to her. None. I'm not exactly sure what made me avoid reaching out to her but I assume it was out of fear. I have dreamed of living in the DR since I was 16 years old. When it started to become a reality, thoughts of everything that could go wrong invaded my mind. I forgot why I wanted to move there in the first place.
The closer I got to actually living in the DR, the more I found myself making excuses as to why I couldn't move there. First, I legitimately couldn't go because I was married to a man who had "cancer." He couldn't go because he needed access to "treatment" if the "cancer" should ever return. When that was no longer a problem, I didn't want to leave my dog. I was literally telling the God who created the entire universe that a dog was more important than Him. My dog is my fur child and he has been by my side through everything. I don't want to leave him but when I die, I cannot tell God that I didn't listen to Him because of a dog...
As disgusting as it would be, sometimes I wish a whale would swallow me, take me to where I am meant to be, and spit me out unharmed. That way I wouldn't keep making excuses and wasting time. There would be no doubt in my mind if I am making the right decision or not. Jonah never doubted if he was where he was supposed to be. He was lucky. However, it is not exactly a good thing to relate to a man so stubborn that God sent a whale to bring him to where he was meant to be.
In any case, the woman in our group went ahead and told the wonderful lady, who was going to the school, about me anyway. And I just might owe my future to both of them. I knew if I visited the school and saw those precious children there would be no coming back. I would physically return to the United States, but my heart would remain with them. I wouldn't be able to postpone moving anymore and that is precisely what happened. I went to the school, met many amazing students, and now I have no choice. I have to teach there.
I'm not quite sure why people have told me I'm strong and brave for attempting to live in a foreign land. It is a beautiful country full of strong, resilient people but a third world country nonetheless. I truly have no idea what I'm doing and I don't speak Spanish very well. I call my mom on the phone when there is a bee in the house. I cannot even squish an itty bitty spider with a napkin or a shoe and I'm going to move to a land where tarantulas roam free. All I have is a passion for teaching and an extremely vague outline for the next year of my life that can barely be described as a "plan."
I am definitely not strong. If I put some medieval arm armor around my noodle arms and blocked a punch, no one would think I was strong. They would know the armor protecting my arms was strong. Maybe Jesus helps some people build metaphorical muscle and makes them strong, but not me. I'm Not Strong. Jesus is my strength.
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