Well, remember the five minute friday thing. Scroll to the next post if you have no idea what I'm talking about. It's really cool because now the word for Friday has been stuck in my mind all week... grace. From what I'm told from a friend or two, it's kind come up randomly for them also. I looked the word up in urban dictionary..... A favor rendered by one who need not do so; indulgence, divine love and protection bestowed freely on people. Hmm... those ideas rolled around in my head a bit. Mostly, while I took full advantage of my first weekend not on the road in over a month. Scroll down 2 blog posts if you are wondering why or just click here. So, I planned a lazy Saturday for myself. Love it. Didn't leave the house not once the entire day!
To be honest, I can't really sleep in because my internal alarm clock always seems to wake me up earlier than I want to be awake sometimes. However, I am always game for a lazy Saturday. You know the kind where you stay in your pajamas until at least noon if not 5pm, reading, watching TV, snacking, or better yet.... BAKING! The light bulb went off in my head, I have an entire kitchen to myself, a lazy Saturday with nothing to do, and we have electricity....ooooo, what should I bake.
I love baking! It's like the ultimate stress relief.... well, for a moderate level of stress. I have learned too well that high levels of stress suppress the neurochemicals in my head that generate a joy from baking. So, if I stop baking, it's probably a warning sign that all is not well. Saturday, as I creamed butter, sifted flour and crushed walnuts whipping up 2 good creations to share with my neighbors, my mind drifted back to my Five Minute Friday Post... and grace.
The trip back from Restauracion every week was not fun. You probably got that idea from the prior post, but here's why it wasn't fun. The most frequently traveled roads from the Haitian border to the closest large city, Santiago, are lined with road blocks. Are we checking seatbelts or drivers license, hahaha, don't make me laugh. We have to make sure illegal Haitians aren't entering the country. Better yet we have to make sure that anyone who we decide even looks Haitian, be it dark complexioned Dominican or nappy hair American, can prove they aren't Haitian. It totally reeks of the Trujillo era when tens of thousands of Haitians and Haitian-Dominicans (people born in the DR to Haitian parents even if it was several generations back) were killed to 'cleanse and purify' the Dominican race. The test to see if you were Dominican or not was the ability to say the Spanish word for parsley, perejil. Haitians can't roll their r so if you can't pronounce that word you must not be one of us and off with your head. Seriously.
Well, I wasn't asked to say perejil, but over and over the guards would either try to strike up a conversation, to see if maybe I was Dominican with 'pelo malo' (bad hair, should be a subject of a post in the future) or if I was the Haitian enemy. The first 3 weeks, it was draining and I had no grace for them whatsoever. There was no love freely flowing, they got my full attitude complete with eye rolling and teeth sucking. Bad Jewel, bad. Not Christ-like. I know. I KNOW!! I know that didn't help, but it was my initial response to the injustice that is happening here. Reminds me of the apartheid system in South Africa where dark skinned individuals had to leave with their passbook to move about the city. Finally on week 4, I made the decision to accept that these guards are just doing their job. They get paid like $150 a month, most are young 21 year olds proud to be serving their country. The issue isn't with them, but their government. Grace, give them some freely flowing love, perhaps they deserve attitude and questions about why this is happening, but show grace Jewel. Show love to these guards even as they are massaging your backpack looking for who knows what. No, there is no skinny Haitian hidden in my backpack. Promise.
In the comfort of my kitchen, with the delightful smell of carrot cake and lime coconut pound cake wafting in the air, I couldn't get the whole situation off my mind. My conscious decision to give grace liberally totally changed everything. Many times there are situations we encounter that are tough and may not change overnight. However, if we can change our response and move beyond the initial emotional response to the intentional decision to extend grace, to pray fervently and to seek out ways to be a part of the solution it totally will change everything.
Finally, I arrived back to Santiago with a smile for once. Grace does that... it changes you.
I had a mini celebration that Saturday by getting my nails painted. Here's me admiring my pretty nails.... but it's pretty obvious that I'm not used to having wet nails since I already have them messed up in no time... look close, you see it?
See, I told you they are beautiful! But, today I celebrate the oldest of the bunch. Probably 5 or 6 years ago a friend and I were chatting as we flew home to NC to visit family for Christmas. She was sharing with me how special her relationship with her sister's children is to her. As she put it, her sister's kids are the closest she will get to being a mom. I've thought on those wise words off and on over the years. And today, as I think about my dearest Jessica, it rings so true.
