Dominicans Don’t Go Out in the Rain

(Unless it's to get soaked on purpose and splash around like a bunch of kids...or they are a bunch of kids...)

Beryl is upon us. I'm hoping to find a window to go walking at the garden this afternoon, but until then, let it be known that the title is an undeniable statement of fact. They're convinced your grandma was right when she said you can catch a cold by being exposed to the elements with wet hair, and, on a much more practical note, many people get around either on foot or on motos. Umbrellas - or plastic bags - can only do so much in a downpour. 

A rainy day certainly factored into a disappointing start for the first eyeglass team I've coordinated in the DR (alongside 12 volunteers from Our Redeemer in Wichita Falls, TX), but American Airlines (AA) set the tone first.

I'm not sure who was happier to see whom after an uncomfortable night at MIA. 

Knowing I couldn't count on the team to do anything Friday other than rest and recuperate, day 1 of the clinic was shot. Or was it? I'd lined up local practitioners from the Patronato Nacional de Ciegos to be on hand all week - a best practice in medical missions and a Ministry of Public Health requirement. Texans or no Texans, Dra. Dawina Camacho & co. provided what services they could. 

A few of the team members forewent napping to give out reading glasses, like the ones sem wife Beatriz (Cuba) walked away with. 

Friday was necessarily a short day as it was, to account for Concordia Lutheran School's graduation happening in the same space as the clinic. Most team members had rebounded enough to attend the 4 pm ceremony. Dinner was waiting in the crock pot for afterwards, and everyone went to bed dreaming of a "normal" clinic day. 

Saturday, there were bright pink scrubs, skillful interpreters, indispensable church volunteers, and smiling patients...until there weren't. 

Because, among other things, Dominicans don't go out in the rain. 

I couldn't help but think there should be patients anxiously awaiting their turn in these chairs, not volunteers scrolling their phones. 

Pastor Idjon reassured me - and I, the team - that a) he'd been able to have prolonged, meaningful conversations with patients that would have been impossible had the public come out in droves; and b) there'd be more patients tomorrow when the rains stopped and everyone was off work. 

The team & I were blessed to witness THREE Baptisms during Sunday's Divine Service.

Frustratingly, our early morning high wore off when once more, the would-be crowd was instead a trickle. That is, until about two hours before closing. Maybe it was the urgency of it being our last day in Palmar; maybe ALL clinics in the DR should start and end later (2-9 pm?); maybe it was something else entirely, but all of a sudden, we were rockin' and rollin'.  

Nancy, Cindy, and Brenda with interpreter Yinet.

Celebrating the completion of site #1 with meat, meat, and more meat at an Argentinian steakhouse. 

My Anglo mind wants to compare our paltry three days in Palmar to past clinics in other LAC fields and even other regions, but God knew exactly whom He needed to be there, and why. I took away learnings that would serve me well when we'd shift sites after a rest day and others I'll tuck away for the next eyeglass team I'll host, in Santo Domingo this September. 

Perhaps the greatest reassurance, though, is that EVERY pair of glasses given out at EVERY eyeglass clinic ANYWHERE will get scratched, lost, or broken eventually. EVERYONE'S prescription will worsen, and they'll need new ones regardless. But the Gospel message of God's grace in Jesus is eternal. Every member of the Our Redeemer team came to the Dominican Republic for a reason: not to fill out registration cards, administer eye tests, or build glasses, but to give people, whether few or many, the gift of seeing their Savior with eyes of faith. 

Until next time, blessings in Christ!