worlds apart

The village of Cielo is a 20-minute drive from the hotel, but the scene drastically changes as the bus makes a left-hand turn off the main highway. We enter the crowded, winding streets of District Bayona, where open-air colmados take the place of modern supermarkets and houses made of plywood, rusted metal or cinderblock take the place of high-rise condominiums.

The bus climbs a steep hill and enters the gate of Mission Emanuel, and, in the distance, we can see the mountains that divide the Dominican from Haiti. We gather in “Club Bamboo,” so named for the large bamboo tree that shades the area

Today, after a Dominican church service, we walked the streets of Cielo to view our two work sites for the week: laying cinderblock for the walls of a new church, and finishing the home of a family in the village. As we walked, more and more children joined our group, grabbing the hand of an American, getting a ride on someone’s shoulders. It doesn’t take long to make friends, in spite of the language barrier.

After a typical Dominican lunch of chicken, rice and beans, we board the bus once again and head back to the hotel, and the world changes again. We have the afternoon to swim, rest in our air-conditioned rooms and shower in our modern bathroom.

Tonight, we’ll have dinner in Santo Domingo, then meet in room 422 to worship and talk about our day—places where each of us saw and experienced God. Often, we find Him where we least expect, like in a small village at the top of a small hill in the Dominican Republic.