A Different Kind of Wonderful

2024 marks 10 years of visiting and volunteering in the Dominican Republic. When I rewind my mind back to those early days, I remember thinking about "what a sacrifice" it would be for us to spend our vacations volunteering. I remember thinking that we would "obviously be entering into sadness and heartache" by spending time at orphanages. I recall thinking that encountering suffering would be worth it, if only to expand our view of the world. Today, I'm standing on the other side of a decade, realizing that most of what I used to think is dead wrong.

The longer we visit and the more relationships we forge, I've come to the conclusion that these kids are getting a different kind of wonderful. Their childhoods are special and unique and they will have delightful, extraordinary, rare stories to tell. Their paths include hundreds of siblings who understand their loss, a cacophony of languages, barefoot basketball under tropical skies, and a faithful conveyor belt of kindness that winds its way around them via total strangers and trusted adults.

These kids aren't sad. They are among the happiest humans I have yet to encounter. They laugh more than I did during my freshman year of college, and that's saying something. They tease. They chase. They give the best hugs. They may not have a mom or dad, but they are educated, sheltered, fed and loved. They have siblings in spades. They have access to medical and dental care. There are high expectations for their lives. They have very little in the way of possessions, but an embarassment of riches when it comes to space, time and relationships.

I've learned to look at these kids as the lucky ones. Then I assess my own kids' lives and think that in some ways, we Americans might be getting the short end of the stick. While orphaned kids in the DR have their own set of challenges, I'll give you a handful of things these kids aren't battling:

• entitlement

• apathy

• addiction to social media

• anxiety

• lonliness

Jason and I have asked ourselves more than once if it would right all the wrongs with our own offspring to just uproot everything and move ourselves into a community like this. Could we trade out some of the problems inherent to raising kids in the US for the virtue that undoubtedly comes from living with less? Would living overseas develop in our kids (and us) a gratitude that we just can't seem to foster amidst the plenty of America? Maybe.

But then we look around and realize that in every school, neighborhood, city and continent of the world, there are gifts and struggles. My kids have really great lives here in Minnesota. Focusing on what they DON'T have isn't helpful because no one can have it all.

I grew up on a farm, as did my husband. We always pictured some chickens and acres of land for our own kids. But, the Lord planted us in a small town where our kids get to do things we didn't, like biking to the park and being close to friends. They're getting their own version of a wonderful childhood. Ours was lovely in dozens of ways. We learned things growing up in rural areas that give us unique perspectives. I used to fret over this. Would my kids grow up to value the feel of grass under their feet and the beauty of a sunrise over a cornfield? Would they get to lay on the lawn and look at the night stars unpolluted by city lights? The answer is no, or at least not nearly as often as I did. Instead, they have a gaggle of friends at their fingertips, clouds of kids jumping on our trampoline and a pile of bikes parked in the driveway. They get to walk to the gas station to spend hard earned money and have dozens of awesome adults looking out for them. It's different in some very good ways. Their little lives won't include the same things mine did, but they are getting a version of childhood that is uniquely theirs.

We are homeschooling our oldest daughter this year. This has been a greiving process for two public school teachers. We both loved high school and I am well aware of all that she is missing. However, she's getting some valuable things that I simply cannot quantify. In some ways, I'm jealous of all that this experience has given her. She's getting her own tender teenage years, missing the things that public school offers and gaining some priceless opportunities and skills that can't be found in traditional education. Which is better? Who's to say? After not a few sleepless nights, I decided to be content with the fact that she's getting her own kind of wonderful.

There's peace in deciding that "wonderful" can look different and that challenges are part and parcel of every single life. It's not a list of pros and cons. It's just deciding that life is full of both. Is there a right way to do childhood?

The kids in the DR have some treasures and skills and opportunities that will not be within the scope of my kids' lives. And my little flock has something incredibly special here. Despite their obvious challenges, our Dominican friends are happy. And so are we. Childhoods can't be compared. My kids have a mom and a dad who love them and each other, a safe neighborhood to run around in, and some bad attitudes from time to time. These kids have serious heart wounds and, also, a tropical island with a constant supply of mangos and year round fresh air that we Minnesotans can only dream of. They've got some painfully sad parts to their stories. Who doesn't?

It's all hard.

And beautiful.

And worth it.

Everyone on this spinning globe gets some really great people and stories and opportunities. Even so, not one of us gets to have it all. I think what I'm learning is that the grass truly ISN'T greener on the other side. It's green in the places where you water it. The weeds are going to pop up. Tend it all with love, pray without ceasing, and let God fill in the gaps.