Los Ninos y Los Motos - a right of passage...

Los Ninos y Los Motos - a right of passage...
  For every car in the DR (and there are many), there are at least ten motorcycles, with most of them blowing some serious smoke. Occasionally you'll see a helmet, then only half way on, but for the most part everyone moves around with "Easy Rider" abandon.
  It is not uncommon to see lovers zipping through traffic, with the girl's arms tightly around the man's waist, and it it not rare to see a couple with their little children sandwiched between them. Everywhere you look, a parent or guardian with an infant in one hand, the handlebar in the other or a small child sitting in front of them.
  On any given day between smog and the motorcycle mania, this is a pretty dangerous place, and from where we've been, it's a rather unhealthy place.
  In Angelina we saw over and over again high blood pressure and high blood sugar; diabetes and hypertension - the two great killers of the poor, but today it was quite different.
  We went to Los Conucos, the other place pastored by Father Feilx, 15 kilometers west of town, barrios built on the edge of immaculate golf resorts and country clubs, with a large population of Haitians. In the DR the Haitanos are the lowest of the low, with so many levels of depravation and oppression that I cannot begin to fathom. If in Angelina we saw poverty, in Los Conucos we saw wretched poverty.
  All the children (most of them screaming) were dirty with infected scabies, infantigo, diarrhea, parasites, lice and other skin infections. With no electricity (no fans), stifling heat, and a chaotic crowd of patients, it was an exhausting day.
   As we prayed for each patient and family, anointing them and laying hands on them (with a lot of hand sanitizer in between), I was forever praying internally, "Lord, how did you do this? What does Your authentic compassion look and feel like. Lord, I want to run to my safe, air conditioned, insulated, wi-fi world!"
   When the last patient of the day was seen and prayed for, we all looked at each with an expression that said, "We made it!"
  Now we are back at our air conditioned rooms (although the power's been out for almost an hour); our bellies are full; and we've had warm showers, recovering from a world that seemingly forever is filled with brokenness, sickness and pain, but as I listen to our team members' stories, I find that our earthly prosperity easily hides deep brokenness, sickness and pain.
  When we come here does it minimize our challenges and heartaches or does it anesthetize us from our need for healing - healing of hurting relationships, sin scarred lives, despair in the face of unfulfilled dreams, deep seated addictions, rebellion towards God and more.
  For the moment we're winding down toward our final day of service, physically and emotionally drained. We'll unwind for a day in the Capitol, Santo Domingo; the Doc will probably smoke a Havana, and I'll sit in the shade at Columbus Square and have a little Ron (rum).
The motos still rumble by, and the power just came back. Life is good!