Hospitality

     Has anybody out there ever been cared for 24 hours a day, and not in any way where you feel like said care-er (is that a word?) treats you as incapable? I am asking has anybody truly felt loved by a community of strangers for multiple days in a row? This image is more or less how our group of rag tag Americans has felt these past few days in Sabaneta. This small community of "evangelical christians" is living out one of the main teachings of Jesus better than most Americans that I have seen. Our group spent almost 30 minutes trying to figure out just what exactly they were doing that all of us felt completely at home. "Love, care, respect, joy, patience", these were the traits and feelings we applied to our caregivers. It is a beautiful community to be a part of for our short time.

     While the group spent the whole day painting, I had the privilege of leaving halfway through the day to help prepare for what seems to be the weeks biggest event: a professional pizza maker here in Sabaneta making pizza for the community! Wait... holy crap that's me. To back up a little, when the people here learned that I made pizza, they were ecstatic and insisted that I show them my skills. So plans were drawn up, lists made, and off to el supermercado we went! 

     Some things I learned on this journey without the rest of my English speaking cohorts: Public transportation consists of minivans or motorcycles driving around randomly picking up people (so we took a minivan into town). All supermarkets are different (I have never seen so much rice). Dominican delis do not have pepperoni, nor do they understand English words or units of measure (getting the cheese, salami, and sausage was an exhausting yet exciting experience). Since there isn't room in the minivans for groceries, we took what I can only describe as grocery store uber (at checkout, we called for a truck to come pick us and our groceries home). 

    My journey into town was made with 2 women, both who seem to be leaders in the community. Both mothers, one of whom has cooked every meal for us the past 4 days. My Spanish is fairly limited, so as we sat and waited for the truck I tried my best to learn more about their lives. I asked Judeca (no idea how that is spelled), if she liked to cook, since that seemed to be her entire day. She laughed, looked at me and said not really but it's ok. (Ok now I feel a little guilty and sad for her). Next I asked her what does she like to do for fun, and she replied nothing, I just do what needs to be done. So here I am, sitting in a hot supermarket in the D.R, realizing two huge truths. One, mothers in all countries do way too much and we all take them for granted. Go thank your mother right now cause she's better than you remember (Love you mom!). Two, maybe I shouldn't look at making pizza as some pressure-filled responsibility that I have, but as the coolest thing that I might do while I am here. I will get the joyful privilege of serving the server, of caring for the caregiver. 

    So tonight I make pizza (with the help of my lovely teammates), and Judeca gets a night off. We continue to paint, play basketball, and share stories with people in any way we can. We continue to feel loved, and we continue to stumble around attempting to love back. Hopefully, some poorly made (or quite possibly super dope) pizza will communicate our love and graciousness better than broken Spanish ever will.

     

Jimmy