The True Story of My Life #10 (Dominican Republic)

I read a lot of missionary stories when I was little. Almost all of them, I think. I also loved reading survival stories. It didn't matter what someone was up against--the elements (Endurance by Edward Shackleton, Alive by the guy who survived the Andes plane crash as a cannibal), other people, or life in general. One of my favorite books, when I was very young, was called "Baby Island" (I think). It was about 2 babysitters who become stranded on an island with certain objects with them, which they must utilize in order to survive until they are rescued, with the children they care for. That one was fiction. At any rate, I read many, many, stories about the triumph of the human spirit. I believe this, my generally good upbringing from my parents, and my strong faith in God, and maybe my personality and general constitution, helped form a foundation that was able to withstand many assaults. Most people, I fully believe, if they had gone through what I've been through, WOULD be in a mental institution. I do not credit my own strength for my ability to hold up, but all of these other factors I've mentioned, which I believe God knew ahead of time would prepare me for the future.

I always knew I was different and that my life would take a different and unusual course. I didn't seek this or choose this most of the time. Sometimes I did, as when I wanted to go to the Dominican Republic and serve, with a sincere interest in perhaps selling my house and giving all my money away to live up in the mountains and help people and share my belief and testimony in Jesus Christ.

I was a virgin, and an independent single woman. I still thought that if I married, I would have to "submit" to my husband and that my job would be supporting him primarily, but I think I never got serious with anyone, because I knew I couldn't handle the constraint. Well, and I never met anyone I cared for enough, or connected to AND was attracted to, all at once. I met few interesting and smart men where I was, and if I did, they were already married or engaged. I wouldn't even look at someone if they had a girlfriend.

I became somewhat interested in one man but kept it to myself. I told no one because first he had a girlfriend and then he was engaged. He was tall, half Cuban and part black too. His mother was white. Both he and his brother were incredibly good looking AND smart. Sometimes I thought I couldn't make up my mind. But I was intrigued by the one who didn't say very much--the quieter one.

When we went to "DR" (Dominican Republic), we had to raise support first. Which I hated. We were required to ask people for money to support our mission. So I did. I was surprised that the family of my former "boyfriend" from high school supported me, when they weren't particularly religious, but an aunt on my father's side sent me a curt note about how she couldn't support trying to change an indigenous culture with American values and beliefs.

We also had "boot camp" prior to the trip. Which is where I first felt out of step with certain mindsets in church. Part of the preparation, was praying for long periods, in a group. I didn't mind that, but I prayed in my own way. This leader in charge, however, demanded we pray on our feet--she felt to kneel or pray in another position, wasn't good enough. I don't know if she just wanted to be sure people were awake or what. I felt very resistant to this. "God doesn't care what position people are in when they pray!!!" I felt indignant, and that this was an unnatural and superficial. I absolutely hated it, and went along with it, after first trying to speak quietly with the woman about my feelings. The result was that I was chosen to be the one with a whip who strikes Jesus, for the skit that was prepared at the DR.

This was humiliating to say the least, as I didn't even want to be in the play. Some people were allowed to opt out. For whatever reason, not ME! So I learned my part, and then once, when I was doing it, I was so into the character (or into someone else's character) I started to cry, thinking about Jesus really being whipped.