Palm trees waved enticingly— their lush green leaves appearing to stretch beyond the horizon. The sun glowed with a fiery orange and pink as its rays peeked between purple, puffy clouds. Spotted cows and giddy chickens roamed the land as droplets of fresh rain fell slowly with a playful, splashing sound. I had just arrived in the Dominican Republic for a mission trip. I’d prepared for this trip with my youth group for six months through countless prayers and Bible studies, but I still had no idea of the transformation that was to happen here. Although the mission trip was only eight short days, the people I met in the Dominican Republic changed my heart in unfathomable ways. They taught me that love has no language and that the key to a joyful life is to own less. This is the week I learned to pack light and love heavy.
Every day during the trip, all 16 of us piled into a creaking, cramped bus without air conditioning and went to a school sponsored by the Makarios organization, a place where children are sponsored to receive education, fresh drinking water and meals. They also learn about Jesus here. I came to this school with the expectation that I would not be able to communicate with the Dominican kids who speak only Spanish. Soon after my arrival, I realized that language was not a barrier for these beautiful children.
They could care less if we understood the language that came from their mouths; they just wanted love. What mattered most to them was that we wanted to play and give them piggy back rides and bear hugs. This meant more to me than anything in the world. I saw their innocent faces light up like a firework on the fourth of July. It made me realize that love is what matters most on this Earth. Everyone should love others — no matter who they are, what they’ve done or the language they speak. Love has no language. But what love does have is the power to tear down walls.
On a few days of our trip, we visited some of the villages. My favorite village was the smallest and poorest one — Chichigua. At the very first glance of this village, I was astonished to see that these people live in torn apart homes that look like cardboard boxes. They live with only a few gallons of water to support all of the villagers and they have no place to go to the restroom. Because of this, the whole village is filled with an overpowering sewage smell that rushed through my nostrils. While my youth group and I were looking around the village at the filthiness and dirt, the people of Chichigua saw us and immediately they began to run towards us.
These people were overflowing in joyful shouts and spirited smiles with their arms stretched wide to hug us with all their strength. The children started a game of soccer, using a flat, faded, soccer ball. Ever so happily, they pulled us in to join them as they simultaneously sang a catchy jingle. A few moments later, a little girl named Anita grabbed my arm and took me to her house to show me her small collection of old, fraying bracelets. She picked one up and said “a tu” (“for you” in English). That bracelet right there meant more to me than winning the lottery ever would.
Little Anita was giving me one of the only things she had. A few minutes later, as we got ready to leave, a grungy looking Dominican man in his late thirties, named Ronal, stopped us before we left to say something that forever changed my heart. He said, with his greenish brown eyes shining as he smiled, “my village, it is the most amazing place in the world. I could never be more blessed!” Ronal, who has absolutely no material possessions and sleeps on a dirty ground each night, has more joy and thankfulness, than I, a person with too many possessions living in a first world country and a nice home. That, to me, is truly captivating.
The hearts of the Dominican people are even more beautiful than their vibrant green country and their dreamy crystal blue beaches. Their inner beauty left an imprint that phenomenally changed my life. They taught me that love has no barriers and joy does not come from material possessions. So live like the Dominicans — pack light and love heavy.
