I know that You *are* for me...

this song came just when i needed it. a long day, in a long month... where my brokeness is quite reflected. in days like this, i rejoice for God's grace. because if His grace weren't there, i know for sure that i wouldn't be here. oh Lord, forgive my sin. forgive my lack of integrity and my lack of purpose. forgive my lack of trust and my lack of hope; my lack of faith. see the blood of jesus on me that cover those and continue to extend your grace to me even if i sabotage myself everytime you try to do it right. i know you are for me. i will trust your promise. :)

to love or not to love... ultimately, that is the question

Lately, I have been having a very hard time loving someone.  It's like I am genetically predisposed to not love this person.  It's even harder when this person is in a position of authority above me and not only do I have to respect him but as a spiritual authority I have to respect him.  In order for me to respect him, I have to muster some sort of love from somewhere.  However, I'm struggling big time.  He is so clueless of what he does; he is so clueless of what he doesn't do.  I keep asking God to give me love.  I also asked other people who have had issues with him in the past for "indirect" advice. It just isn't working.  It's the most frustrating thing.  The worse part is that he keeps doing things to make it feel like I'm justified.  On the other hand, I have God telling me that I have to respect him; that I have to love him... love him!!! What the heck?  The person stills my joy whenever I see him. It's like an automatic reaction because I always see him as looking for something to benefit himself and that is just wrong.  It's wrong to feel that way because he can't possibly always be looking for some gain. I'm just really hoping that I see some good in him. I know he has it; I'm convinced.  I just don't' see it. 

It's weird when God tells you clearly that you have to love someone even when your very core tells you that you just don't want to.  It's a struggle and God doesn't forget to remind you at moment that He is always right.  He uses other people to do so; he uses your own mind even if your heart is stubborn.  I have prayed, a couple of times, for God to change my heart.  At the same time, I feel that one of the reasons why this is happening is because if I let this person have his way, I'd be taken advantage of.  At the same time, I know I am being taught a lesson here but it's not a very pleasant one.  In any event, I hope that God hears my prayer and allows me to let go of this "caution" which sometimes seems to be turning into resentment.  I do not want to do that because I know this person has good points, and probably even good intentions deep down past his emotional, egotistical needs.  he he. :) Also, I am very afraid that I may internalize some of his habits and reflect things that I find completely not kosher.  I do not want to emulate that aspect of the leadership I see and that worries me constantly.  It's all about love. If I can't love him, even his bad parts, I can't truly appreciate who he is, in his entirety.  Oh, God, please.  Let me develop a deep, filial love for this person so that I can see you through him and see your work in him regardless of what I think of the strategy.  Please, help me be more tolerant of him and his ways.  Please help me see what I'm doing wrong that doesn't allow me to change my feelings.  Please take over and change what needs to be changed.  Please help me love him.

it's been a while...

since i have really liked someone without effort.  guys that i have ended up somewhat liking have been so because after a while i seem analyze them and come to the conclusion that they're all right; or because there's some mystery and i feel like exploring;  or because they have showered me with attention, etc., etc.  however, lately... i have been very happy when i see a particular someone.  i can't control my smile when i see him.  he makes me giggle--sometimes out loud.  the only thing is that i have no clue who this guy is.  he goes to my church and plays an instrument, that's all i know.  i see him there on sundays.  however, i have never had a conversation with him. the only word we exchanged was "thank you," coming from  him as i made a gesture to push the a door i was walking through a bit longer so that the person behind me could also walk through.  the said "'thank you" in a deep voice and when i looked back it was him.  in classic 'moi' fashion i just gave a superficial smile and kept walking.  why? why?  i ask.  anyway, when i came from my DR vacation i was really happy to see him.  i was very, very surprised by that reaction and since then do not know what to do with it.  i obviously like that guy, but why? he's not like drop-dead handsome or anything to produce this. i have no point of reference as to what his character is and/or how he is.  regardless,  i like him, all of the sudden and with no real reason.  this is such a silly crush.

update:  i forgot to mention that he has a girlfriend apparently.  oh, the horror.  anyway, it's a crush not a relationship hijacking. i'm sure it will go away soon.  :) 

I know this trip changed my life...

I know, I know...  It may sound like an exaggeration but I think this trip will have long-lasting ramifications for me.  I’m not sure how but this trip will mark something in my life which I may or may not understand at the moment but I know it will do something.  As I prepared to leave I started to get nervous.  I’m not sure if  it was because of having to pack, and/or waking up in the middle of the night thinking I was going to oversleep or what, but I was “sobresaltada”.  I realized that my life was not necessarily what I want it to be and that I have to stop this prolonged quasi-adolescence that we have in the US and start living life in a way that show that I have made some progress.  I feel like I’m such a baby compared to people in the DR; people my age and older who have very adult lives and behave like it.  

If I can, I will live there again.  I think I can manage it.  I want to save some money and buy a piece of land in the campo—hopefully near Las Terrenas or something similar.  I would love to retire there if possible. But then, thinking of my friend and her friend, most of their conversations revolved around money and/or people who had it.  I do not want to live that way.  I felt bad for them at times because they just seemed so lost.  They seemed so focused on things of this world and at one point I realized that this is what grace is all about.  The fact that God can extend grace to us even when we choose to be so far away from him and his things just makes it so worthwhile.  I also realized that there’s really nothing I can do to change their hearts.  God has o do that.   However, I was frustrated because I wasn’t sure on what I could do to make the process easier.  I was waiting for an opportunity, an opening of sorts but I never really go one.  I don’t know what I should have done.  I did talk to my friend a bit but that was while driving to breakfast; not very substantial.  We the two nights I was there in the Jacuzzi gazing at the starts.  The second night Ivan made this amazing baked pork loin with a Jack Daniel’s marinade and salad, all with French olive oil from his brother-in-law’s place there, and some pink salt from the Himalayan mountains.  I was like, am I really in the DR?  He also had some really good Riesling.  We ate while watching Andrea Boccelli’s concert in Las Vegas on DVD.  It was just exquisite.  

I would love to live that life, focused on becoming rich and making myself known in with the people that matter so that I can achieve that goal.  However, I can’t.  I can’t just work for money.  I  have to work for something greater otherwise I feel like I’m not doing justice to the life I’ve been gifted.  I don’t want my days to be an endless spiral of strategies to get money and then spend it, or save it.  I want something more.  Unfortunately, I don’t know that there’s more to life than this.  

Las Terrenas & El Portillo

After driving from La Cumbre in Salcedo, we set off for Las Terrenas through the northeast countryside.  We asked for directions a couple of times; not because we were lost but because it seemed we were going nowhwere so it was best to make sure.  Lord! Those roads through the campos are the most jumpy I have ever been to.  Probably Aruba’s rock safari was comparable but not really.  In any event, we finally made it to Nagua and stopped, of course, at Chen’s.  Comedor Chen is this small restaurant facing the beach—a bit far from it, but facing it nonetheless—where this older woman has some of the best food you can eat on the eastern part of the island. We chatted with her and she said she has been there for more than 30 years, which is true because I have always seen that place there and I lived in Nagua when I was five  years old.  She started with a roadside stall and then moved to a better room location paying $70 pesos a month back then.  Then she moved to the current location which was then expanded.  She was so cute and fun to talk to.  We had crab meat in creole sauce, I had claws (muelas) and Wilma meat  (masa) with tostones and a Presidente Light along with a cereza juice.  We also got a side of beans because they made some of the best beans e-ver. 

On our way to Las Terrenas we stopped by my aunt’s house in Sanchez and then met Wilma’s friend, Ivan, to go up the mountain to then go down to our destination.  We drove through the cliffs and raggety roads to finally get to his house.  His wife is in France.  She left that same day to go give birth to their third child.  She is French and he is Dominican.  There’s a lot of French and Italian ex-pats there.  He’s an civil engineer, entrepreneur and previously tourism minister for the region.  His house is beautiful.  It’s simple yet elegant and very practical.  Here’s a picture of one side of the house.  We stayed in the pool house which was very comfortable.  His son Natan is 8 years old and a total riot. I like the kid.  But I liked one of the dogs more.  Lolo, he was my favorite; even if he wouldn’t let us out of the car every night barking and growling at us.  He’s a guard dog but totally cool—in daylight.  :) 

Our first night there we went out to this very nice beachfront place called El Mosquito.  It was the cutest bar with couches facing the water where we sipped on some caipirinhas while listening to the waves in dimed lighting.  It was nice.  There were some Americans next to us but everyone else was European except for some Dominican sanquinpankis accompanying them.  

{Alllow me to clarify what a sanquipanqui is.  Sanquipanquis are people, male or female, gay, straight or both depending on request, that “hang out” with tourist for a nominal fee, i.e. prostitutes.  They are not, however, your typical street corner prostitute.  They may be, but they “hang out” with tourist it seems for longer periods rather than by the hour or night.  They’re kinda like rent-a-boyfriends/gfs for your stay there.  You can totally tell which ones are sanquipanquis by the way they dress and/or the fact that you see a very, very, very dark—usually young—woman with an while European at all the different venues and/or beaches throughout the island. The no. 1 reason why people come to the DR is for its people, according to surveys.  I wonder if it is only for these type of people or just people in gerenal.  They tell me it is the latter but I really don’t think so. }

Anyway, after El Mosquito we headed to the place across the street for some music and possibly dancing.  There was no one there so we headed to another place.  Finally we decided to go into this place where all the locals go.  Well, all the locals in a bar/club on a Sunday night are the sanquis so it was quite surreal.   We were two of about 10 people who were not prostitute-looking folk out of like 50 to 60.   It was so much fun to be there but also so sad.  That must have been and STD breeding ground.  You probably could hardly breathe in there without catching one.  Even sadder was the fact that most of those people were little by little selling their dignity for money.  They were objectifying themselves for money.  They were literally selling their soul for money.  After a while, even with the two drinks I had in me, we left.   It was too much.  When we got home, Lolo, my favorite of the two very scary-looking dogs at the house, would not recognize us so we were trapped in the car for a bit until Ivan came to open the door.  It was hilarious.  We were in the car and the dog would bark/growl which would make us close the windows.   

The Capital and other happenings

Day two was interesting.  I headed out to my dad’s business to check things out.  It’s not the same as it was before when I was little but it is still standing. The economy has hit it pretty hard so it’s  a little sad to see that there are only 4 full time employees in addition to my dad, when usually there were about 7 and up to 10.  I hung out there for a while and then headed to see an old friend but she wasn’t home.  After I went to La Sirena which is the Dominican Walmart of sorts with lots of departments, a huge supermarket and wine store along with a food court.  I don’t see any Walmarts here so it’s probably because La Sirena type store and are nationally owned were smart enough to expand before a foreign entity could take over.   They have so much crap that it makes me wanna have a home here so that I can buy stuff.  At night I went to my aunt’s house and used the wireless Internet. 

The next day I went back to use the wireless Internet and ended up staying with my aunt all morning helping her in the kitchen because the cooking /cleaning lady had gone to the doctor’s office.  I did the dishes and help with food preparations.  It was good. I laughed a lot.  Afterwards I headed over to Santo Domingo, the capital, to meet up with my paternal siblings for the first time. It was an interesting meeting.  They met me at the hotel and we headed to an Italian restaurant right across from it—Il Capo.  The restaurant was nothing out of this world but it was good.  My “older” sister paid the bill.  Her name is Desiree and she is a lawyer working for a bank.  My brother, Vladimir and a year younger than me, is a publicist with a Masters from Spain and is looking for work currently.  They both have a 3 year old little girl and a 5 year old boy, respectively.  There were moments of awkward silence and moments for nervous chatter. We talked about Spain and work and looking for work.  Then we talked about our families and our father.  Afterward, we dropped Vladimir off at his house—his mother’s house—and Desiree and I went to a mall nearby to have coffee/tea.  We chatted for a while about our father and how my mother contacted her, etc.  There were moments where I felt a bit jealous where she mentioned that he would send her letters and stuff but that she wouldn’t open them.  He never really wrote me a letter of that I felt a bit left out.  However, given that he had a mental illness towards the latter part of his life, dealing with incoherent letters would have been too much for me to handle also.  I probably would not have read them either.  In any event, it was an interesting talk.  I feel that she has some resentment towards him still and wonder what the source of it is exactly.  She spoke negatively towards him at times.  Vladimir definitely has resentment towards him.  I totally got that from him.  In fact, Desiree mentioned that he didn’t want to go initially.  She didn’t force him either but he wasn’t that much into it to begin with, which I noticed as soon as we sat at the restaurant and he started watching the TV to his side.  Eventually he was quite chatty, when things focused more on what he cared about, i.e. his experience in Spain and looking for a job.  It was a surreal meeting for me.  They are my siblings; as much my siblings as the ones I grew up with are.  However, there is this abysmal distance between us.  I didn’t feel much warmth from them. I didn’t feel like they were "emphatically" looking to meet with me.  It felt like something that had to be done.  On my end, there wasn’t really much of affection felt for them. It was like hanging out with people that for a reason or another you happen to have to hang out with.  It felt like having to hang out with people from a new job but without the possibility of making new friends.   It was weird.  But I guess that will come with time. I'm not made of stone, you know? Towards the end of the it, my sister kept wondering why my father never brought me and them two together.  He definitely had the older brother and the other two hang out; and I hung out with the older brother but never with the other two.  I have a feeling that it was because of their mother.  I could bet money on the fact that she probably forbade it.  Anyway, I think they’re both very cool, especially the guy.  He seems like the artsy type that I would get along with and talk for hours about nothing really important but that sounds so.  I like his style a lot.   I think he’s kinda cool/hot. I’m looking forward to meeting up with my older brother who is in Philadelphia on vacation.  Go figure, when I come to DR he goes to the US.  I hope I catch him.  He sounds a lot more friendly and warm; like he really wants to meet with me.  I hope I can keep in contact with them and develop some sort of friendship.   After all, we are siblings. I have always wanted to "have" and older brother.  Maybe this will be it.   :)

Day 1 - continued

The guys whose names are Yampiel—which is the phonetic approximation of Jean Pierre but on his cedula it is Yampiel—and Juan, decided to go to Yampiel’s house to see if they found the office key. 

Thus, along go I with these two unknown gentlemen to what seems like a very rural municipality that doesn’t even have asphalt roads.  We get to their house and I stay in the car.  The look and look but can’t find the key.  Again, they decide to go back to the office but no luck, and then back to Yampiel’s house.  By this time I already knew how to get to his house.  Afterward, we stopped by the locksmith’s house but he was out, “working?” asks Yampiel, “no, just out,” says the woman who came out of the small house.  On our way back they find this guy on a scooter who apparently knows how to do this and they ask him to come.  They tried to pick the metal door’s look.  I was actually a glass door with a metal frame.  It doesn’t work.  They ask the neighbor for  hammer but he’s using it so they can’t use it.  Finally, they start hitting it with a screwdriver and a huge rock.  Here are the picture of the ordeal.  It was so funny.  They were all laughing because when my friend’s brother—their boss—got there he would be screaming about it.  Yampiel actually thought that he left the key on top of a car and it disappear.  But since he’s car was broken into twice in the past month and his wallet stolen he was going to lie about it and say that the key had been stolen too.  After much hammering and laughing, the lock was broken—piece by piece.  Right then and there came Jhonny, the boss.  When Yampiel told him that they had to break the lock because the key was stolen, Jhonny goes, “I have the key! You liar!” It was hilarious. 

Afterward, he sent the guys to get me fresh coconut water and to exchange some money for me.  While waiting for them I had an amazing conversation with my friend’s brother with whom I never had spoken more than 2 minutes with.  We talked about God and how he had been searching for God in the past but how he feels his life is not ready to commit to a relationship with him.  I told him that everything has its time but to not wait too long because committing to God is a process and we are never ready but He makes us ready. He told me a bunch of personal stuff which really surprised me since he seemed like a very distant borderline arrogant person prior to this.  I had seen him many times before but we  had never really talked  much.  He’s a bit older so that may be part of it.  Then I asked him if I could pray for him to which he said that I shouldn’t waste my time.  I said I just wanted to bless him with a prayer and so I did.  It was short and to the point but I felt the need to bless this man who apparently needs to fill a void in his hear but seems to be confused as to how.  We talked about his kids, his life in New York city, his mother’s illness and death, his lifestyle and how he wants to change it but has a lot of pressure not from friends, etc., we talked about everything.  Throughout the whole conversation I could not believe my eyes and ears.  Then it started pouring, we were under this hut-type structure like a terrace of sorts surrounded by old, classic cars which he collects---a 1970ish Benz, an ford truck from the 50’s maybe and an convertible Oldsmobile from I don’t know when. There was also a Harley.  The rain started to hit us and we moved closer to the center of the structure and kept talking.  It was so surreal.  It looked like the flood and then, 20 minutes later, it stopped and the blazing sun came out again.  We kept talking for probably two hours and finally he called the airport to ask for my suitcase.  They said the flight had been delayed and now it would get here at 5:45pm.  We agreed that he would get it for me and send it in a cab since it wasn’t safe for me to drive at night.  I don’t know what happened but by the time he and set out to escort me to the highway it was 5:15pm so we decided that I would go to the next town over to pick up a car that was at the mechanic and then go to pick up the suitcase.  Finally, I went to the airport and got my suitcase, not without a wait of course.  I’m amazed as to how laid back people here are and how the notion of good customer service is completely different from the US.  In any event, I left the airport to SFM at around 7pm and it was already dark.  I was a bit scared because I had never driven through there at night by myself.  Plus, everyone kept saying that it was very dangerous for Dominicans that live here to do that let alone me.  In any event, I made it home rather quickly and with nothing abnormal.  It was a good drive. 

what a trip! day 1 part 1

i'm in the DR for the next 9 days.  it has been such an adventure so far.  first i didn't sleep the night before because i had to do my laundry so that i could pack some clean clothes for my trip.  then, since my flight was at 7am i had to get to the airport on time.  i called a cab to pick me up at 4:30am and they were there right on time.  as we set out for the trip through the jamaicaway, it was pouring like crazy. the rain just seem to be ready to finish anything it encounter plus the wind and lighting every so often.  when the old haitian cab drive turn on the heat to defog the windows it didn't work. everything started to fog up and he had to stop with his blinking lights on so try to fix it. eventually he gave up and turned on the AC.  go figure! the AC! i was freezing. so i get to the airport and my bag was 43 pounds which was good but i really don't know what i packed in there to make it so heavy.  then the guy tells me that my flight to NYC is delayed 50 minutes that that it leaves at 8:50.  then i asked him, well what happens to my trip to DR.  so he put me on stand-by for the 6:05am flight so that I didn't miss my connection.  there i found this woman from church with her little girl, she was also an ESOL student when i was at HERC. she was also on stanby.  finally they start boarding and i get on but she's left back. i felt bad.


the flight to NYC was pretty turbulent since it was raining so bad. my little PTSD kicked in.  while at the connection at JFK I attempted to withdraw money with my ATM and then realized i had not called BOA to tell them I was travelling so I did that. Thank God!  The flight to DR was nice. I slept. no one was beside me so it was comfortable.  Then i get to the airport.  I wait at baggage claim.  My bag is not there.  I wait. Nope, no light blue hardshell suitcase. I go to baggage claim and there's no one.  I wait. Then I go to baggage claim again and talk to the guy. in the imterim, there was this other guy that i had seen from my flight in Boston and he was also missing his bag.  i told him that I thought our bags had been delyaed since our original flight was delayed.  We both went to baggage claim. He was such a thug--covered in tattoos and with what appeared to be really bag braces or a grill.  not sure. i didn't want to stare.  i got a form to pick up my bag later and they told me that it was on the next flight at 4:15pm.   I was afraid that the guy who was picking me up would leave.

when i come out.there's really no one at the waiting area.  then i see these two little thugs with a hand-written sign that read, "Yassier Fernandez." no capitalizatoin whatsoever.  i go to them and they take me to pick up the car i was renting from my friend's brother who has a rent-a-car place.  good thing becuase the car they picked me up in was horrendous. as we go to the place it's not the place i had seen years ago so automatically i start trying to memorize where i'm going in case i have to run back. :) they looked like they had just been sniffing something so it's natural that i'd be a bit worried. cut me some slack. i get to the place and they can't find the key to the office. typical DR... i'm going to stop here because the internet cafe bill is going to be high and I haven't exchanged my money yet.  but it gets better! :)

i got a job! whoohoo...

for the past year i have been waiting the fate of my federally funded program.  it's been a while since we knew that all funding for abstinence education had been cut by Prez Obama. in fact, that's the first thing he slashed upon taking office.  it was kinda crazy.  i couldn't really look for a job because i had to end things now.  but i also had to wait until something came through since God was in the mix.  it was a total faith exercise of sorts.  not say that there weren't moments when i looked at those idealist daily messages to see what kind of jobs were coming up; or that when my dear friends suggested i send my resume because they had put in a good word for me at this agency that was looking for a Director of Fundraising--I was very touched by their care;  or that there were moments were I'd be like, "shoot, in a couple of weeks i will not have a job and i do not have 6 months worth of savings in case it takes me as long as it took my brother to find a job.  everything was up in the air.  i was contemplating moving to NYC or to DC if this was God's way of telling me to move on. i was thinking of maybe going abroad and teaching English in Japan for a while, which i still want to do but it's not possible right this minute.  anyway, it was hectic emotionally.  not to mention that the women i work with decided that they were not going to look for a job either.  i'm not sure what my role in that was but as the director of the program i felt a bit responsible every time i said that i knew everything was going to be find for me because i felt that God was just going to come through. i always specified, though, that whether i stayed or had to leave something good would come out of it.  i just knew it.  so with that, when they said they'd stay put until the very end, i felt a bit anxious about that.  even though it had nothing to do with me really, it still felt heavy.

well, on tuesday morning at 10am i was packing my bags to leave; and on tuesday morning at 10:15am i was in a car with my boss with as much relief as i could possibly feel after listening to his 45 second conversation with the federal program officer stating that we had been awarded the 3M grant we asked for.  i'm still processing the whole thing but i am certain of something: God is faithful, and this was a miracle. there were so many qualified applicants that didn't get this money, and we, the baby, got it! it was so competitive that i had my doubts.  in any event, i have a job.  we can continue our work.  i don't know how long i'll be there but i know that it has been good.   i told my boss that i felt like Abraham and Isaac.  he thought i meant I was Abraham and that God had rewarded my faith, but I meant Isaac.  i was about to be slaughtered and obliterated; waiting with anticipation for a fate that was somewhat obvious but that i chose to ignore and pretended not to notice.  then, at the very last minute i was spared.  it was such a sense of relief and gratitude for it.  i think i was also being grateful not because God provided but because i had been rebellious.  i was being rebellious by to pleading to God to save me; not crying before him to provide.  i kinda said, "well, you got me into this God, now you clean it up."  i think it was arrogance.  at the same time.  i cried before him, a lot, really a lot, when my boss just dumped the proposal on my lap and i had to spend the worst three weeks of my professional career so far.  it was excruciatingly painful for me to just have to do something that in my eyes was his job and he just decided to "delegate" with no explanation as to what, when, how, why.  not to mention that i had never written  a proposal that required so much and a federal RFP at that.  so my tears weren't for deliverance but for anger and a sense of injustice, which now i feel God heard and part of it was answered by this. not to mention, that all other people who pleaded, my boss, included make up that mosaic of prayers and petitions for this situation to be resolved.

at any rate, when i heard the news i didn't scream nor did i cry.  i texted my colleagues and said, "praise god! ladies, we have a program officer." it's almost as if what i was expecting all along happened and it was almost de facto.  there wasn't really a surprise because God is that faithful.   i don't know what that means and/or what i have to fix in my way of thinking or seeing God but i just feel that this is an expected blessing and He came through.  :)