I noticed something disturbing going on in my head after my second month of being in Guatemala. It wasn’t the presence of something, but rather the absence of many things. Simply put, I wasn’t so interrupted as I used to be. Instead, I had clarity and continuity in my thoughts. Strange, how clarity can be so alarming, but it certainly was to me then, and after 14 months of being outside a normal American lifestyle, it is still pleasantly unsettling now. Clarity of thought is kind of like its cousin, “peace of mind” but you’ll be able to hold better conversations with clarity of thought at the dinner table.
I think what I discovered was that when I was able to focus on something, I could get a lot more done and certainly, I enjoyed a lot more what I was doing. When there weren’t a few hundred things racing around in my mind constantly interrupting me, I guess I could really pay attention to what was in front of me. I remember back to when I was in the States playing in a soccer league, in the middle of a game, I’d think about what I was going to be doing later that night, or how I still needed to change the oil in my car, or how I needed to send out a few email reminders, or respond to some text messages. You know it’s a terrible way to spend a sunny Sunday afternoon with your friends isn’t it? Focused on everything but the game itself.
It’s a simple principle really, but it’s incredibly hard to keep up with. I think one of the best pieces of advice I’ve heard in relation to this is:
“Making a ‘to do’ list is good, and probably more important, is making a ‘To Not Do’ list.”
The key ingredient in my new life and in the overall composition of my mind was the deliberate prohibition of interruptions. I’ve heard more and more productivity experts say that multi-tasking is a myth. 
We can only process things in a serial manner, just one thing at a time. If we limit the interruptions, we can be more effective in our work, and have more fun in our free time. I believe that. I really do now. Most of my experiences traveling and living in another culture have been some of the most inspiring and fulfilling in my life.
It could be that it’s because I get don’t interrupted much now, and I still have a pretty full schedule. I don’t have a smart phone. I don’t check face book regularly. I don’t check twitter regularly. My TV 
holds a few clothes that I plan to put away, and I’m pretty sure the last time I used the remote, it needed batteries. I purposely go do things for hours and try not to interrupt the time I have with my friends or my roommates. What is most important is the here and the now, the tasks and obligations have their time, but all of that is later, all that is important, is now.
A life without interruptions is a simpler, easier, more fulfilled life.
Now, get back to what you were doing!
Teresa walked us over to the old school building and said that she started the school in one room with about 15 children. In those days, she didn’t know how she would be able to continue the school. She didn’t have money for desks or blackboards and had to keep the finances tightly under control to make sure the teachers got paid. When they didn’t have enough desks, she said that she had to seat children on a small bench. “Oh wait, I can show you this bench! We still use it!” She briskly walked over to a newer building and pulled out this bench. It’s like she kept a reminder of what things were like seven years ago with one building, and held onto it as a reminder of a vision come to reality. But for her, the school still runs on a tight budget so they still use it for current students! (You know, in the states we sometimes keep things for posterity sake, but in this case, she still uses it for posterior sake.)
I think all of us took a moment to take in what she was saying. It’s as if she was reminding us that there are places where God calls us to sit with us, to be still and to show us, “what can be.” I think there are so many times when we are so worried about what we see or what we don’t see in front of us. Sometimes we don’t think that any of “this” can be redeemed or changed. It’s like we cannot see when our eyes open, but when we close them and seek God, He can show us a vision of what can be. He can show us the blueprints of a future community center in the midst of a struggling ghetto or a large school that teaches the poorest students of a community. It’s interesting to me that when I have these conversations with these leaders in the country, I can usually hear a local corner store play the typical Carribean Merengue, but strangely, I still find myself thinking about an Irish hymn:
“I used to think sugar came from a box in the supermarket.” I’ve gotten a lot of laughs with that kind of small talk around the topic of sugar, and in particular with that statement. Usually, the Haitians who have emigrated here for employment and work with the sugar cane everyday laugh when they hear it, and ask what else Americans really think. Here in the Dominican Republic, sugar production is still a major export, and if you explore a little bit beyond the major cities you’ll find enormous sugar cane fields, and the sugar cane communities (“bateys”) of people who work in those fields.
Back in February, I know I made the joke that if the “Lord wants me to learn Creole then I’ll do it.” Now it’s looking like I might actually head down that path. The women of the Bank of Esperanza “Fe y Amor” (Faith and Love) of Batey Community #62 graciously accepted the task of teaching a “gringo” his first few words and phrases in Creole.
That afternoon Franklin and I went to visit a group of associates’ homes to verify their places of residence and their businesses. We stopped by the house of one woman in the community, Rosemena, to do the survey of poverty. We usually ask for the national identification card or their passport. Rosemena had neither.
On our way back to the office, we made a quick stop to visit a group of clients. Francisco likes to check in with his HOPE clients to see how their family and business are doing. We pulled up to a house and a young woman came out, holding her child. “Hi Franklin, how are you!” – she yells. Franklin greeted her and introduces me, “This is my American friend who wants to learn Creole.”
(I pull out my pad of paper to write her name down so I can remember.)
Nearing the completion of two months in the Dominican Republic, I’m feeling like this place is becoming a second home, and while I’m getting used to what life is like here, there are some things about working with the poor that I don’t feel like I’ll get used to. Sure, I’ve been to over 50 of HOPE’s microfinance meetings in the communities, and I’m helping to rewrite and update the training and operations manual. I could walk you through the loan process, how to structure a bank meeting, and how to deliver the Biblical devotionals and business training materials we use. I’m getting used to all that. However, I don’t think I’ll get used to experiencing the look of fear and insecurity I see in the eyes of a new client when I ask them about how much money they have in their savings.
To become a client of HOPE, we require that you attend five business training sessions where a loan officer teaches you about the mission and vision of HOPE, basic business strategies, the structure and the commitment of the loan, and most importantly, and I’ll quote the loan officer, “Even though you may think that God is distant from you, I want to tell you that He has not forgotten about you or your family, He is here in this community.”
Elena chuckled and said, “I only have one community bank meeting, the rest are the meetings of my friends.”
The women who were sitting there with us chuckled as Elena ran toward the other houses. I asked them why they were chuckling, one said, “That’s Elena. She’s always running for something.”
