Chapter 6: Dinner at My House

I asked my ex-pat Bible Study to pray for Carmen. I told them how I had waited for her to come to church, but she hadn’t shown up.

Lidisset pointed out,

“She is only thinking of her immediate needs right now. To love her, we have to do more than pray and invite her to church. We have to do something.”

If anyone had taught me anything about life in the Dominican Republic, it was Lidy. It seemed as if she knew everyone, and everything about Santo Domingo. If we ever went walking to a concert or event at night, she would encounter several friends along the way. She wasn’t afraid, but she was street smart—or tigre, in Dominican slang. Besides that, she was a talented artist, a great listener, and a wise soul.

Lidy was usually right, and this was no exception.

“But, don’t give her money,” Lidy said. “It will create a dependency, a sort of hierarchy, a monetized relationship.”

I knew she was right, and I certainly didn’t want to throw money at a problem to fix it for one day. But I needed to show I cared about her physical needs.

Cristen, another development worker in our Bible Study, responded by giving me some pre-natal vitamins for Carmen. It seemed like a good start.

I remember debating before my next run, whether I should take them with me. I didn’t know if I would see her or not, though, and I didn’t have a gym bag.

It turns out, I did see Carmen that day. I asked her if she would walk back to my apartment with me to get the vitamins.

“Yes, but I have to wait for Andre.”

“Who’s Andre?” I asked.

“Andre Luis”.

A few minutes later, a 14 year-old boy joined us on the short concrete wall. He introduced himself with a couple of acrobatic backflips, just for show.

"You're pretty talented," I told him. He smiled shyly. He looked younger than 14. Later, I would describe him to Lidisset as “very short, and with innocent eyes.”

“Not my boyfriend,” Carmen told me. They had been friends since childhood, and knew each other like a brother and sister. 

Andre told me Carmen was 15 years old. I looked at Carmen,

“First you were 17, then 16. How old are you really?” She laughed.

“15.”

“OK.” I said. Just like she lived with her mom, except when it came out that her mom abandoned her over a year ago, and now she lives alone. My disappointment in being lied to was swallowed up by the fact that the truth was worse than the lies. At the same time, I knew that telling the truth meant she was beginning to trust me more.

I asked them both if they would walk back to my house to get the vitamins. They said yes. Any time Carmen walked back with me meant less income for her, but I knew she would still have to pay rent and buy food. I prayed for wisdom on how and when to help. 

While walking, I asked Carmen what she wanted to be when she grows up. I had asked her this before, but she never answered. I wanted to know what dreams, if any, she had for herself. She answered,

"I want to be Berenice."

I have a friend from college named Berenice, but I had never met anyone in the Dominican Republic with that name. I asked Carmen who Berenice was, but it was Andre who ended up answering. He explained that Berenice is a woman who works in the court and gives long prison terms to men convicted of sexually abusing children—because Berenice herself was raped as a child.

Without saying anything, I knew right away that Carmen wanted to be like Berenice, because she, too, was raped as a child.

 “That’s so wrong. That’s so evil. God hates that,” was all I could manage to say. Numbly, I continued, “If you take the chance to study, you can work in the court like Berenice. You can do that, with God’s help. You have so much potential, Carmen.”

Carmen kept walking. She was unusually quiet today. 

The rest of the way, it was mostly Andre and I who talked. He told me he had gone to my church as recently as last year, and he used to eat in the soup kitchen and attend the literacy courses. 

Andre said Pastor Robert’s testimony of how God saved him out of a life of drugs and crime had impacted him. When I told him Robert moved to the U.S. to start a church in New York City, he couldn’t believe it.

I would tell Lidy later, that I wished God would send other men and women with the same calling to our church in the colonial zone, even if they didn’t become the pastor like Robert. The church just needs simple people who are willing to glorify God through their testimonies, and serve as inspiration for others. As John Perkins said, “People need more than your used clothes. They need the family of God in their neighborhood.”

When we made it back to my house, I invited them in. Andre said Carmen could go in with me, and he would wait outside. I said,

“No, I am inviting you both in, really, don’t worry.”

He argued with me a bit, but I remember thinking,

He still thinks I am here to take advantage of Carmen. He needs to know that’s not true. If anyone comes in, it should be both of them. So they can see it’s Jesus’ love, not any selfish or perverted motive, that causes me to invite them in. 

Later, I realized my roommate Laura would have preferred that I get the vitamins and take them out, since we didn’t invite anyone into our house without previous communication. Especially very poor people, who may be tempted to steal, in a country where robberies are very common.

I ignored any thoughts of my roommate, something I would later apologize for—because our safety is a real concern, and respecting her rights is important. But that night, I just made a quick decision. 

Although I would later regret not speaking with Laura, even then I felt no fear. I had already been robbed twice in this country, and Lidisset would warn me over chat that, “Carmen sells herself… she’s capable of doing other things, too, just to survive.”

I didn’t debate with Lidy. Instead, I wrote:

“I have felt ever since the beginning, that God has been directing me as I get to know Carmen. I don’t mean to say everything has been perfect, or that I haven’t made mistakes, but I am learning. And every time I see her, we pray. Afterwards, I pray that I will see her again. Then, I won’t get the chance to go running for various days, and she won’t go to the malecón either. When I see her again, she apologizes and tells me,”

 “I haven’t come to work on the malecón since the last time I saw you, I’m so sorry I haven’t seen you.”

But the thing is, that was also the only day that I had come since I had seen her last. And God took her off the streets as I had been praying, until it was the day that I would be able to run, and see her.”

Inside our apartment, I realized I had nothing to eat, since I had just gotten home from a 4-day visit to a missionary in San Pedro. I had nothing, except for the pasteles en hoja I had bought on the trip — delicious little rolls of plantain or corn dough wrapped around savoury beef or chicken.  

I offered them dinner. Carmen would not be here in my house, if it were not for Andre Luis being here, too, I thought. She is more comfortable with him by her side.

Within 20 minutes, the pasteles were hot, and we were thanking God for the food around the round, wicker table. After we ate, I asked Andre how I could pray for him.

He said he wanted a better job, since he just worked polishing shoes and selling fruit in the street. He said his mother had died, and his father was in prison. He lived with his stepfather, Valdéz, a security guard for one of the buildings nearby.

After dinner, Andre said he would go to church with me that Sunday. I told Lidy that night,

“Maybe it’s time, and maybe this is the way she can get help—without having to see her there in the streets again. She has to get off the streets anyway now, now that she is 6 months pregnant. It’s the perfect time for her to surrender herself to God.”

Lidy cut me off.

“Look, just one thing.”

“Si?”

“Leave the results to God! On Sunday if she goes, we will tell her about some of the ministries in the church, and we will introduce her to a sister who helps women. We will invite her to the soup kitchen.”

“Yeah, I know I can’t control her, of course,” I replied. “But that’s what I’m hoping for. Thank you for the reminder. Yes, we will introduce her, if she comes. Even though the first two times she said she would come, but she didn’t.”

My heart wanted to sink, but I dared to hope. I continued.

“I was in San Pedro this week, with a missionary. She told me that she had been in the park countless times, waiting for women. It’s because so many people have broken their promises, that these women don’t trust anyone anymore. They don’t have any true friends. But when they realize that she showed up and waited for them, their hearts begin to soften.”

“There’s a good chance she’ll go,” Lidy replied.

“Yes, because Andre has a lot of influence over her. They’ve been friends for a long time,” I interjected.

“No, because you were open with her,” Lidy countered. “You helped them. I assure you, they will be back for more.”

As always, Lidy was right. In fact, that very night, Carmen held back inside our apartment as Andre waited on the porch.

“Give me some pesos for my bus fare tomorrow, please!” She begged me.

“Where do you need to go? What time?”

“A doctor’s appointment, at 7AM.”

“I’ll go with you and pay your fare, if you come to my apartment at 6:30AM. OK?” I said, looking at her in the eyes, trying to convey compassion.

“OK,” she said.

I wanted to kick myself. Did I do it all wrong? Should I have given her money?

What about having them over for dinner? Was I more generous with shared possessions than with my own things? Didn’t that mean I was a hypocrite? 

God, please give me wisdom, I begged. But above all, true love…even crazy love. But not stupid love. If there is a difference, please show me.

I felt like the blindfold had been pulled off, and I was seeing the limits of my own human love, realizing again how much I needed God’s love.

I knew I couldn’t heal the pain of a child who had been raped, whose world was one of lies, abuse, and false friends. Only God could do that. I just didn’t want to become one more of those false friends. I prayed,

Help me, God. Do something in her, and do something in me!

The next morning, Carmen didn’t show up to go to the appointment with me. 

On Sunday, neither Andre nor Carmen came to church.