Off to the Dominican

(Alex and me in 2005)-------- By the time you read this, I’ll be on my way to the Dominican Republic, God willing. I’ll be there on a mission trip for a week, so expect a column in a few weeks about my experiences there. If it’s anything like my trip in 2005, it will take more than one column to describe it all. In case you’ve forgotten, I met up with a young man named Alex when I visited last time. He drove our team around in a truck. I usually sat up front with him due to my fear of falling off the back of trucks, which I did when I was 16 years old. Ouch. Anyway, Alex and I developed a brotherly relationship of sorts. We sang, we hummed, we laughed. He saved my rear end at a military checkpoint when I had forgotten my passport. The one thing Alex and I didn’t share was a conversation. They speak Spanish in the Dominican. I took French in high school. Yet Alex and I communicated. I can only tell you that this connection we experienced was a direct result of the Holy Spirit, which God is in charge of, not me. Alex dreamed of becoming a pastor. That dream has come true. Earlier this year I got an email from Alex (someone translated for me) asking for help. The little church he pastors is in need of Sunday school classes and they need financial help and workers to make it happen. Three Stroupes along with nine members of my church are on our way to help as best we can. My construction knowledge is limited, considering that I struggle even with Legos. But that’s not the main point. We will arrive with open hearts and willing hands and we’ll let the locals show us what to do. I have tried to learn some Spanish in the past few months. On those long bus rides during baseball season, I have cornered trainers, players, and assistant coaches- or anyone else who would listen to my pronunciations- and forced them to carry on conversations with me. With as much objectivity as I can manage, I will tell you that I stink at Spanish. First of all, my French keeps getting in the way. Add to that a Southern dialect and you can see why I am concerned, despite the fact we will have interpreters there. My number one goal is to carry on a conversation with Alex, which I will attempt to do in person. It didn’t go so well on the phone when we finally connected recently. We both ended up laughing as we realized our attempts to communicate were largely fruitless. But at least we tried. I’ve listened to the tapes, read the little picture books, and even watched the Spanish Network on local cable Channel 63 a few times. There’s a Jerry Springer-type show on there that I’ve grown attached to even though they talk too fast when they’re hollering at each other. Alex has asked that I speak in his church four different times throughout the week. That should be interesting. Maybe God will lend his Holy Spirit again to help with the translation. I’m counting on it. And so is mi hermano (my brother) Alex. Hasta la vista.