A Young Woman Remembers Her Time in Guatemala and the Dominican Republic

Kristen and her dad, Phil
in Eppley airport before her first mission trip

Kristen Strevey was a beautiful, if somewhat innocent fourteen year old when I first met her at the planning meeting for one of my churches mission trips before I moved to Guatemala.  Today, she is finishing high school and has written two beautiful essays reflecting on two of her experiences as a short-term missionary.  It is my prayer that everyone who makes a mission trip will walk away changed by the experience, and she surely has.  Her friendship is a blessing to my life, and I hope her thoughts will bless you.

Crimson from heat and glistening with sweat, my face strained as I bent over the wheel of a specialized red wheelchair to adjust a screw.  In the seat sat a blubbering two-year-old Guatemalan boy.  His beautiful dark brown eyes watched as I placed his feet into the fitted footrest.  As the third born of triplet boys, he was affected by Multiple Sclerosis  (Cerebral Palsy--pat) caused by complications during birth.  Although I had only known the family for 20 minutes and could not communicate very well because it was just my first year of Spanish, I could see the struggles the family had experienced by looking at his young mother.  Her hands, one of which caressed her older daughter, were covered in calluses from performing manual labor to support her family.  The strong calf muscles revealed how she had had to carry her handicapped son through the streets of the coastal city of Guatemala.  Her weary eyes showed the sleepless nights of worrying how to care for the children she loved so dearly but could not support in the economical conditions of the poor country.  But, amidst the struggle, the woman’s smile shined with hope brought by the wheelchair that would lighten her daily load.  As the final adjustment was made to the wheelchair and the boy’s body could finally relax comfortably, tears of joy sprung from the young mother’s eyes.  After years of trouble transporting her son, life would ease tremendously for the family. 

Kristen and "her" triplets, July 2009

I went on the trip to Guatemala the summer before my freshman year as part of a mission team from my church with only seven adults that I had met once before.  We worked with three local missionaries who serve the handicapped community of Guatemala.  Besides the handicap ministry, we distributed food and built a small house, but, with such a large need and small amount of resources for handicapped people, that aspect of our trip prevailed.  During the daylong wheel chair distribution, about 100 chairs were fitted to children or adults and given to impoverished families.  Each chair would affect the lives of families similar to that of the triplet boy, and every person left the humid building with a smile on his face and a new hope for life.  On this day, I knew in my heart that no matter what I do with my future, whether I am a doctor or a teacher, I would be making a difference in the lives of others.  I knew that I would do anything to see the joy and hope of the Guatemalan families reflected in many more people.

Kristen and Lily, one of the residents of Hermano Pedro

But my realizations did not stop there.  On the fifth day of our trip we spent time at an institution for handicapped children and adults whose families could not care for them.  This day was one of the most emotionally challenging of my life.  The children laid in cribs for most of the day, were fed bowls of mush, and often cried for hours without any response.  My heart broke every time I turned my head.  However, the terrible conditions were due to a lack of government funds, not a lack of care.  Evident in every nurse working at Hermano Pedro was an unconditional love and patience for the children; they were doing everything they possibly could.  It brings tears to my eyes now to remember the loving smile and gentle touch of a nurse who fed a 14 year old girl from a bottle, rocking the diaper clad girl and sweetly singing her a song.  Throughout the day a passionate itch came into my heart.  I felt it as I reached under mosquito nets to hold the hands of “vegetable” children, hoping that a simple touch would bring some light to their day.  I felt it even stronger at the delightful cries of the kids we wheeled through the courtyard of the building as sunlight and fresh air brushed their faces.  Finally, as I sat with Henry, the sweetest boy I’ve ever seen, asleep in my lap, the feeling in my heart became uncontrollable.  The boy, who had cried the whole time we were there, finally had a smile on his face: he had fallen asleep in a warm embrace instead of behind the bars of a metal crib.  While the rest of the team waited to leave, I gave the slumbering three-year-old a kiss on the head and promised him that I would use my life and my knowledge to the best of my ability so that I could help other hurting children like him. 

Still today, as I work in the nursery, babysit, and teach pre-school choir, all for healthy kids, little Henry stays in the back of my mind. Henry is my motivation to attend eight plus years of college in order to become a pediatric oncologist; I want sick children like him to be able to fully experience all of life’s joys.

Kristen with Peg Pearson as she arrives in the DR
with her parents

The following two summers, Kristen spent a significant amount of time working with Peg and Bill Pearson in the Dominican Republic.  They have founded Christian International Foundation, Inc. which is based in Santo Domingo.  This essay originally appeared in their newsletter, and Kristen has allowed me to share it with you, also.  Of her trip to the Dominican, Kristen writes:

I departed the plane into the humidity of the Dominican Republic as a naïve 15 year old, not knowing that the six weeks I spent on the island would change my life. Because I traveled alone and only knew the two missionaries I lived with, I was forced to adapt quickly to my new environment. This experience established who I am today.

With my first Sunday on the humid island came my first immersion into the culture: The Spanish Church. Walking through the doors, I was surprised by the simple yet magnificent sanctuary. People began to find seats, still warmly greeting churchgo-ers, and I discovered my first lesson: Dominicans are friendly to everyone. Compared to the general coldness of the US, these interactions were overwhelming, but as the time passed, I grew accustomed to conversing with many people and shattered the walls of my comfort zone daily, setting a basis in social interaction for the rest of my life. The aspect that struck me most about the Dominicans was that they all seemed to have a genuine interest in their acquaintances and how life was treating them. I found no traces of fake, shallow friendship among the people. Although difficult, I try to reflect this compassion with every person that I interact with today.

Kristen and Deive

Before I had arrived, I had fallen for the stereotypes of the people of a third world country: lazy and poor. I was instantly proven wrong though by a group of young adults that helped in the mission. They were studying to be lawyers and doctors or running their own businesses, but still poor. One of my best friends, Deivi, 22, was working as a radiologist and studying full-time. From Deivi I learned to push myself to reach my highest potential but not forget where I come from. Although Deivi was always busy, he still found time to volunteer, care for his family, and love friends. Now, when I feel overwhelmed by school, show choir, work, volunteering, and everything in my life, I find motivation from the fierce determination that the Dominicans possessed.

People I interacted with and befriended were poor, below the poverty line in the US. I traveled there with the attitude that I would be doing them a great service, but they surpassed me in sacrifice. Out of love, and not a haughty attitude, they gave pesos to children on the streets or ran errands for their neighbors, continually putting others before themselves, and reflecting the life of Christ. I saw that the way to minister to people is not always through words but more through actions. In this modern world, losing myself is easy, but I strive still to demonstrate my love for Christ in my actions, just as the Dominicans taught me.

While I thought I was going to the Dominican Republic to change people’s lives, it was mine that changed. And although I was able to help many people, my life and character benefited the most from the trip.

Thanks, Kristen, for allowing me to share your essays.  You "got" what a mission trip is all about--us serving God through His people, and Him growing us in the process.  I hope you come visit us again soon.  God bless you on your journey.

Please pray for Kristen as she moves on to college and the next phase of her life.