In the dark
outside of Delaware (our dorm) a circle of LIFTers mills about with a few other
people. Last goodbyes are exchanged. Prayers are said, for Bekah and Liam as
they start a new adventure, and for all of us as we load up the vans and set
off on a long drive to the airport in Newark, New Jersey. Four sleepy hours
later the vans unload. We stand on the sidewalk outside the airport, faces and
bodies tired, yet eyes shining with excitement.
Tickets are
claimed, baggage is checked, we walk through the scanner and metal detectors of
security without a hitch. An hour and a half remains before our plane boards.
LIFTers find the gate, C136, flight from Newark to Santiago. Groups of two,
three, and four wander through the airport, buying food, looking at interesting
shops and people that pass by. Twenty minutes before boarding the large circle reforms.
LIFTers standing together, waiting; the gates open we board the plane, thirty
three people squeezing into tight spaces, packed into the seats, ready to go.
Technical
difficulties, a broken overhead compartment forces a thirty minute delay. The
problem is fixed and the plane taxies onto the runway. The engines roar.
Takeoff!
The ground
fades away; then turns to a blue ocean. Clouds slide by below us; small islands
pass underneath. Then, there it is, the Island of Hispaniola. Beautiful, green,
and lush. Lower pastures of a soft green, surrounded by darker forests.
Reaching up to the sky, mountains covered in trees. Small houses dot the
ground, then a village, more houses, then Santiago.
The plane
touches down. The lurch of landing, the screech of tires accelerating from zero
to one hundred and sixty miles an hour in a second. The plane slows to a halt,
doors unlock. We get up from our seats, stretching tired legs. The doors open.
The heat rushes in blasting against our bodies. The heat hits us in the face,
humidity a shock to some, to others a taste of home. We unload from the plane
filing into the airport. Tourist visas are bought, giving us entrance.
Bam! Bang! ... the stamp
slamming down on a passport marks our arrival.
We are truly
in the Dominican Republic.
As we start
serving in the community here in Jarabacoa we ask for prayer.
Please pray
that all of us here will be humble, willing to serve and to learn from those we
are with. Please also pray that the language will not stop us from effectively
communicating and building relationships with the people who live here.
Blessings of
Peace,
Ronald P.
Duttweiler Jr. LIFT 34
For pictures check out the LIFT Discipleship Program facebook page.
No comments:
Post a Comment