This little newsletter, as always, is simply to share. Frankly, if you feel offended or guilty or reprieved or whatever from what I write then I hope it is God using me as a tool. Genesis 12:2 “…I will bless you…and you will be a blessing.”
My housing situation is a question that comes up often in discussion with people. Since living in the Dominican Republic I have gained a reputation of living on a shoestring to cut costs.
While living in Santiago I lived in one house for three years. That house has now become the GO Ministries medical clinic. I have also lived in many “temporary” locations including the church, the dormitory, vacated staff apartments and the list goes on including with the Gabriel family. A temporary location is ninety days or less. This, of course, does not include the weeks I have spent in Haiti or in the south of the Dominican Republic as I visit the many active locations of G.O. I have learned a great deal from these many moves but mostly that for me traveling light is best.
Even while living on little I have been able to comfortably host numerous people over the years. Just for a laugh I tried to count the number of roommates or people I have housed for more than two months wherever I called home. That totals out to more than nine roommates (including two Haitians, one Polish guy, a semi pro basketball player, and two high schoolers who everyone said looked liked me). That does not include the number of weeks I have slept in “dorm” housing with multiple guys who snore, sleepwalk or otherwise disturb one’s sleep. I admit I am not innocent of snoring loudly either.
As with so many things we evaluate and change as life evolves two things have happened in my life to cause me to rethink my living arrangements. Many of you know I want a family someday. I have pondered what my family would need if they are to live in Santiago with me. I now believe the first thing they would require is a psychiatrist because of all of the moving I have done in the past. J It is clear that I needed to change that style of living for more stability.
With that said, somewhere on this blog are photos of my new apartment. I took a big step and actually rented an apartment with another G.O. staff member. My roommate Brian is a super guy. It is a great little apartment that is just off the beaten path but so close that I can get to where I need to be in a matter of a quick walk. The rent is not expensive, 3,800 pesos per month not including utilities, another 400 pesos and the apartment is in really good shape. What more could I ask for here in a developing nation. As far as I am concerned, nothing.
The second thing that got me thinking about this topic is a woman named Adela. I have seen this woman on a regular basis yet I did not know this woman’s name for more than four years as she was slowly impacting my life.
Many of you have visited Hoya de Bartola often called, the Hole. Adela lives in the hole. For those of you who have not check out the photos of the garbage dump. A picture is worth one thousand words. Every time we go down into the hole to feed those “cute, joyous kids” in the feeding center we pass Adela’s house. The door is
My housing situation is a question that comes up often in discussion with people. Since living in the Dominican Republic I have gained a reputation of living on a shoestring to cut costs.
While living in Santiago I lived in one house for three years. That house has now become the GO Ministries medical clinic. I have also lived in many “temporary” locations including the church, the dormitory, vacated staff apartments and the list goes on including with the Gabriel family. A temporary location is ninety days or less. This, of course, does not include the weeks I have spent in Haiti or in the south of the Dominican Republic as I visit the many active locations of G.O. I have learned a great deal from these many moves but mostly that for me traveling light is best.
Even while living on little I have been able to comfortably host numerous people over the years. Just for a laugh I tried to count the number of roommates or people I have housed for more than two months wherever I called home. That totals out to more than nine roommates (including two Haitians, one Polish guy, a semi pro basketball player, and two high schoolers who everyone said looked liked me). That does not include the number of weeks I have slept in “dorm” housing with multiple guys who snore, sleepwalk or otherwise disturb one’s sleep. I admit I am not innocent of snoring loudly either.
As with so many things we evaluate and change as life evolves two things have happened in my life to cause me to rethink my living arrangements. Many of you know I want a family someday. I have pondered what my family would need if they are to live in Santiago with me. I now believe the first thing they would require is a psychiatrist because of all of the moving I have done in the past. J It is clear that I needed to change that style of living for more stability.
With that said, somewhere on this blog are photos of my new apartment. I took a big step and actually rented an apartment with another G.O. staff member. My roommate Brian is a super guy. It is a great little apartment that is just off the beaten path but so close that I can get to where I need to be in a matter of a quick walk. The rent is not expensive, 3,800 pesos per month not including utilities, another 400 pesos and the apartment is in really good shape. What more could I ask for here in a developing nation. As far as I am concerned, nothing.
The second thing that got me thinking about this topic is a woman named Adela. I have seen this woman on a regular basis yet I did not know this woman’s name for more than four years as she was slowly impacting my life.
Many of you have visited Hoya de Bartola often called, the Hole. Adela lives in the hole. For those of you who have not check out the photos of the garbage dump. A picture is worth one thousand words. Every time we go down into the hole to feed those “cute, joyous kids” in the feeding center we pass Adela’s house. The door is
the other corner of my room almost always open BUT Adela has it open only to let the smoke from her cooking out the door. Adela lives in a shack. See the photo with me in front and on the side stretching my arms out to show the length of her place. Right next to her home is a contributing stream to the river that runs through the hole. Literally if you slip coming out her door you will be in this feces polluted 
stream.
For years I have stopped by Adela’s house and spoken briefly with her. I can tell she is still uneasy in speaking to me. Until this week she would not share her name. She still won’t allow a photo of her to be taken, nor of her house. She doesn’t speak much so I don’t know if she has family or who her friends are let alone many other details of her life. Regardless of the time of day I pass she has coals burning inside her house. I am not sure if it is to keep her feeble body warm or to keep the mosquitoes away. Her house consists of a bed, an open pit fireplace and a few clothes (she is always wearing a black skirt and My bed and closet from my door white top the traditional mourning clothing of Catholics in the Dominican), she has electricity for her one light bulb and no running water not even a toilet. Her “life” is inside that shack ready to be washed away any moment by that stream of pollution.
I always try to bring a little something for Adela when I know I am going ot pass her home, just a small treat, a pack of gum, some cookies, a little rice, a carton of juice just to let her know I am thinking about her. Today it was my roommate’s cookies. Yes he gave me permission to give them away. Today was a monumental day because today is the day I learned her name. I imagine she shared her name with me because over time she has felt a little more trust in me and I always bring the treats.
Adela lives alone in the hole. Not exactly the safest place to live for a 55 plus year old woman. Adela's home in the hole with my friends
stream.For years I have stopped by Adela’s house and spoken briefly with her. I can tell she is still uneasy in speaking to me. Until this week she would not share her name. She still won’t allow a photo of her to be taken, nor of her house. She doesn’t speak much so I don’t know if she has family or who her friends are let alone many other details of her life. Regardless of the time of day I pass she has coals burning inside her house. I am not sure if it is to keep her feeble body warm or to keep the mosquitoes away. Her house consists of a bed, an open pit fireplace and a few clothes (she is always wearing a black skirt and My bed and closet from my door white top the traditional mourning clothing of Catholics in the Dominican), she has electricity for her one light bulb and no running water not even a toilet. Her “life” is inside that shack ready to be washed away any moment by that stream of pollution.
I always try to bring a little something for Adela when I know I am going ot pass her home, just a small treat, a pack of gum, some cookies, a little rice, a carton of juice just to let her know I am thinking about her. Today it was my roommate’s cookies. Yes he gave me permission to give them away. Today was a monumental day because today is the day I learned her name. I imagine she shared her name with me because over time she has felt a little more trust in me and I always bring the treats.
Adela lives alone in the hole. Not exactly the safest place to live for a 55 plus year old woman. Adela's home in the hole with my friends
In all of this time I have never seen other people in her house and she does not answer when I ask about her family. When I ask the residents of the hole about her usually no one knows of who I speak. Adela, it seems to me, is living a lonely, abandoned, desperate life. I pray to know her story.
I often ask myself questions about Adela: Who will love her? Who is it that will extend a hand to this lonely woman and share with her the love we all have and all desire? In this family oriented culture where is her family? How does she “exist” as she does? What is it I need to exist and to live? Is Adela really satisfied with her life?
Adela has got me asking these questions about my own life. Am I really truly satisfied with my life the way it is? Is there something that God is saying and I have heard but am not doing? What is the difference between me and this woman living inches from a sewer filled stream? The width of Adela's home
I often ask myself questions about Adela: Who will love her? Who is it that will extend a hand to this lonely woman and share with her the love we all have and all desire? In this family oriented culture where is her family? How does she “exist” as she does? What is it I need to exist and to live? Is Adela really satisfied with her life?
Adela has got me asking these questions about my own life. Am I really truly satisfied with my life the way it is? Is there something that God is saying and I have heard but am not doing? What is the difference between me and this woman living inches from a sewer filled stream? The width of Adela's home
Will she be in heaven? Who is her neighbor? Where is my family? Do my neighbors know me? Do I know my neighbors and the list can go on but I will stop it there.
Many would think that Adela is lost but Isaiah says, “...See you shall call the nations that you do not know and the nations that do not know you shall run to you…”. I am sure God has a special place for Adela and for you and I and at some point we will all meet God because even if we do not have a house we all have a home with Christ.
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