Buffering

As someone living in a third world country, I am all too familiar with the concept of buffering. If we want to stream anything off the internet – watch a video on YouTube, listen to a song online, or watch a tv show, we inevitably have to wait a few minutes for it to buffer – pre-load, if you will. When a video buffers, it loads a few minutes or seconds ahead of the moment you are watching. This ensures smooth playback. If you don’t let a video buffer (assuming your internet is not the incredibly fast internet we have in America), it jerks along, starting and stopping every few seconds, not able to keep up with itself.

Although I am not techy, I can make an analogy here to life. Under the advice of wise mentors from Missionary Training International, I took my first four days back in the United States as “buffer time.” These days were both types of buffer – first, the ‘streaming to avoid choppiness’ definition; second, a shield or cushion to lessen a shock or impact.

I spent those days on the Susquehanna River in Central Pennsylvania, sleeping, spending lots of time with God, processing, journaling, hiking, kayaking, sitting outside in the sun, reading, relaxing, and eating my weight in strawberries! It was a time of solitude, a time for me to be renewed after saying painful goodbyes so that I was energized to say hellos. It was time for me to be sad about being in the US without feeling the tension of everyone around me being excited for me to be in the US.

And God blessed me that week. He restored my soul, comforted me in my grief, brought me joy through his creation, and reminded me of his steadfast faithfulness. The past three years have been nothing but evidence that God is indeed faithful, that he provides abundantly to meet all of my needs, and that his sovereign purposes are for my good.

On my second day of solitude, I had a revelation. I’m currently doing a Bible study on the Psalms of Ascent by Beth Moore, and that particular day I had already done the lesson. I felt, for some reason, however, like I was supposed to do another day’s study, too – maybe because I’m about 3 weeks behind!! Anyway, I did the next day’s lesson, and a chunk of it was on bearing fruit. I realized that I was seeing this year in Philadelphia as a time of pruning and of preparing to be more fruitful in the DR when I return. How wrong I was! This year God has specifically planted me in Philadelphia to bear fruit! If I spend the entire year mourning the goodbyes I said and anticipating returning to the DR, not only will I miss out on blessings God has for me here, but I will miss out on the opportunity to bear fruit where God has planted me. He has ordained my time at grad school and my time in a long-distance relationship not only for pruning and preparing, but because he wants me to bear fruit in those situations. What a paradigm shift! I am so thankful that God revealed that lesson to me, and I pray that he would make me fruitful beyond what I can imagine this year.

Pico Duarte

We made it!

(Warning – this is sort of a long post, because climbing Pico Duarte is sort of a long walk…)

Two weeks before I left the DR, Dustin and I decided to have one last adventure together. Our challenge? To climb Pico Duarte. At just over 10,000 feet, Pico Duarte is the tallest mountain in the Caribbean. In 3 days, we would hike 30 miles and conquer an elevation gain of 6500 feet.

The National Park map of our hike with elevation changes

On Tuesday we headed up to Jarabacoa to make final preparations. We borrowed various items from friends to make our trip happen – a moto, a car, a tent, sleeping bags and pads, moleskin… THANK YOU to everyone who lent us stuff, let us stay at their houses, and fed us during our Jarabacoa days!

Early Wednesday morning we drove to La Cienaga, the most popular starting point for the trek up Pico Duarte. We met up with the head of the guide association – since the hike is in a national park, hikers are required to have a guide. He arranged for a guide, Victor, and two mules – a pack mule and an “ambulance” mule, just in case we had an emergency. What “ambulance mule” really meant was mule for the guide to ride and for me to ride when I couldn’t walk any more. Victor had me pegged from mile one, offering me the mule, “It’s ready whenever you want it,” but I was determined to reach the summit on my own two feet!

Juan Pablo Duarte, one of the fathers of the revolution

So we started walking. And we walked. And we walked. Up and up and up and up until I thought I couldn’t go up any more, and then still up! There were a lot of switchbacks, but even so the trail was steep. Add the altitude change to that, and I struggled. I’m pretty sure I became a rather unpleasant hiking buddy, but Dustin put up with me, encouraged me, and tried his best to make me laugh. Periodically throughout the hike, we thought we saw Pico Duarte ahead of us. We would ask our guide, and his response was inevitably, “No, that’s not Pico Duarte. You see the mountain we’re on now, the one behind it, and the one behind that one? Pico Duarte’s behind THAT mountain.” He would chuckle, and we would groan incredulously.

Me and Dustin at the summit

Wednesday evening, 9 hours of walking later, we arrived at our campsite, 13 miles up the trail. In a very melodramatic fashion, and almost in tears, I proclaimed to Dustin that I was so cold and so tired and my body hurt so badly that I would not be able to walk when I woke up in the morning, that there was no way I would make it to the summit, that I would have to ride the mule! Thankfully, though, I did sleep, and when I woke up my legs felt fine!

Thursday we had 3-ish miles up to the summit, then back to the campsite. We summitted at 11 am to breathtaking views. Mountains and valleys stretched endlessly in every direction. And we had arrived just in time – after 20 minutes, the clouds rolled in, so we headed back to camp. We spent a lazy afternoon resting, napping, and strategizing for the next day.

Friday morning. The first 5 miles of our 13 mile trek were uphill. Even thinking about facing another uphill made me want to cry! So for the sake of everyone’s emotions, and for the sake of making it down the mountain in a reasonable amount of time, we decided I would ride the mule. Best decision ever. My years of horseback riding came right back as my mule, Shrimp, navigated steep uphills, tight switchbacks, and even steeper downhills. Meanwhile, Dustin sprinted up the mountain, doing in 50 minutes what had taken us 2 ½ hours the other direction! After 6 miles or so, (read: after the hardest part) I got off the mule and hiked the rest of the way to La Cienaga. We made good time and had the afternoon and evening to enjoy with friends in Jarabacoa before heading back to the coast Saturday morning.

The mountains were BEAUTIFUL!

More than checking “Climb Pico Duarte” off our bucket lists, this trip was much-needed time for the two of us to get away together before I left and before the craziness of goodbyes started. It was restful in its own way, and aside from a few hours on day one, enjoyable. Definitely a wonderful memory to take with me back to los estados and a great adventure to end my time in the DR!

¿Eres tú mi mamá?

For our end-of-the-year Mother's Day program, my first graders put on a drama of the book "Are You My Mother?" They did such a great job! They were adorable, as always, and everyone loved their play. My three best readers were the narrators, and six other kids played the baby bird, mama bird, dog, cat, chicken, and cow. Our 2nd grade teacher played the Snort. I'm so proud of them, not only for the play, but for how much they have learned and grown this year! Here's the video - enjoy!!!

furlough 101

Furlough is a word that is going out of style. It's no longer a missionary buzz word. Instead we use words like "home assignment" or "deputation." But I like it. It reminds me that this next year, my furlough, is a time that was granted to me by Kids Alive. They have chosen to value my work here in Caraballo enough to grant me a leave of absence. I want to break it down as simply as I can, though, so that everyone (especially my supporters) understands the logistics of what happens when I go on furlough. So here are some facts:

1. I leave the Dominican Republic on June 11th and begin my Masters of Science in Elementary Education program at University of Pennsylvania on July 2nd. The program ends May 11th, 2013.
2. While I am at Penn, I will still be a Kids Alive employee. This means I will still receive my monthly salary. The money to pay my salary, as always, will come from my supporters (you, right??), even though I am not serving on the field during that year.
3. After I graduate from Penn, I will spend at least one more year serving Kids Alive. Right now the plan is for me to do that here in Caraballo, but if the Lord reveals a different plan, I will follow Him.

I know that some of you hesitate to continue supporting me during furlough - do you feel like you're paying for me to go to grad school? The truth is, though, that the degree I will earn from Penn will directly improve my ability to serve with Kids Alive and will better equip me to teach and lead other teachers. It's common for missionaries to go on an education furlough like I am doing so that they are more effective in their ministry.

I hope this makes sense... please do not hesitate to email me (eajamison87@gmail.com) if you have any questions about what I'm doing next year, about furlough, about my finances/budget. My finances are open to my supporters because I know that I am accountable to both you and God for responsible stewardship of the gifts you have entrusted to me. It is my prayer and hope that God will continue to use you to provide for my physical needs as I prepare to serve more effectively here in the DR.

what i want to be when i grow up (big news!!!)

This week in first grade we made a class book called "Yo Quiero Ser" (I Want to Be) and talked about what we want to be when we grow up. Here's a sample:

Yessica, Emy, and Rosmina want to be chefs.
Wadson wants to be a prince!
Jerson, Rendy, Jose Miguel, and Edwin all want to be soccer players.
Mariel wants to be a teacher.
Dudo wants to be a policeman so he can arrest bad people.
Angelica wants to be a policewoman, a pilot, a chef, a baseball player, and in the army!
Wascar wants to be a pirate (because they fight and kill people) and a policeman (for a reason I couldn't understand after he told me 4 times). I think he'll make a wonderful pirate someday.

I feel like we spend most of our lives talking about what we want to be when we grow up. Maybe that's just because I'm 24 and most of my friends are still trying to figure that out. I'm beginning to realize, however, that the journey of "figuring out" what I want to be is actually what I am. Does that make sense? I am right where God wants me to be, and I am walking forward in what I believe to be His will, to a destination that He knows but I do not. Every step I take, which some people think of as figuring it out, is actually what I'm supposed to be. As far as I can tell, there's no magical moment when I will be able to declare "now I'm grown up and I know exactly what I'm supposed to do with my life."

That being said, God does reveal callings to us. Four years ago, He called me to apply to be a missionary with Kids Alive here in the DR. Last year, He called me to stay a 3rd year. And this past fall, He called me to apply to grad school. (This is where the big news comes in.) In June, I will return to los estados to begin a 10-month Master's of Science in Elementary Education program at the University of Pennsylvania. I will live in Philadelphia for a year and finally study teaching! This is something to which I cannot deny God's calling. He put the desire to go to grad school in my heart, he made it possible for me to get accepted to a highly competitive program, and he is graciously giving me signs along the way so that I can clearly see that all this is His work and that He goes before me to Philadelphia. I have felt called to education for two years now, and I'm excited to see how God can use my year of learning to better equip me for ministry and teaching.

More will come as details unfold, but now you know my big news. Please pray for my final four months here in the DR and for my transition to living in the US, which has already begun. I am experiencing an enormous paradox: excited to go to school, but not excited to leave my home here. Pray that I will trust God and that He will fill me with truth as I walk forward in this transition.

Enough Light for the Next Step

Some wise words from Henri Nouwen that have been on my heart lately. Hopefully they are an encouragement to you.


Often we want to be able to see into the future. We say, "How will next year be for me? Where will I be five or ten years from now?" There are no answers to these questions. Mostly we have just enough light to see the next step: what we have to do in the coming hour or the following day. The art of living is to enjoy what we can see and not complain about what remains in the dark. When we are able to take the next step with the trust that we will have enough light for the step that follows, we can walk through life with joy and be surprised at how far we go. Let's rejoice in the little light we carry and not ask for the great beam that would take all shadows away.

Sunshine, por fin!

After more than enough rain, we finally had a few sunny days this week. I took advantage of that to enjoy the playground with my kids and amaze them by showing them that yes, indeed, I know how to play tag! Here are a few photos from recess: