An Open Letter to the Dominican Republic

By: Rev. Scott Armstrong

In the coming weeks I will be writing a series of “open letters” as I transition from 21 years in the Mesoamerica Region to our new ministry in South America. I realize that open letters are sometimes used to express protest or appeal to some leader or another. That’s, of course, not what I am going for. These will just be letters intended to be read by a lot of people, not just the person or entity they are written to. There are many reasons I am doing this, but I should probably just get to it. Here’s my first one:

Dear Dominican Republic,

It has dawned on me how hard it’s going to be to leave. August 2013 is when we came here, and your outgoing people and your warm culture (and weather) received us with open arms. After moving houses or apartments 17 different times during 10 years of missionary service in 4 different countries, it has been wonderful to be here, with you, in the same house for the past 11 years. You are home.

Because of your food, I am 15 pounds heavier than when we arrived. You’ve fulfilled your mission well! The first time I ever had mangú was at a Cross-Cultural Orientation, and the first time I ate sancocho was at René and Carmen Acosta’s home. I was hooked. The mofongo from Moca is worth the 2-hour drive, and moro con guandules is now a staple in our home. When a missionary in Argentina where we will live told us there are no plantains there, I almost cried. Seriously.

While here with you, Emily and I have learned Spanish words that truly have little meaning in any other country. A Dominican leader gave us a dictionary of Dominican Spanish and slang, and it contains thousands of words and is 744 pages long! But you have influenced our kids even more! When they talk on the phone in Spanish, Dominicans think they’re Dominican! Well done, Quisqueya. Ellos no son pariguayos…

I love you for how much you love baseball. Many times, I have passed people (even, once, two elderly ladies) on the street, red-faced in debate as they sing the praises of Licey or Águilas. I learned to love futbol as a missionary in Central America, but that is a relatively new passion. Baseball is the sport I played growing up, and I still have so many wonderful memories of going to the stadium with my dad and my brother. So, when I take my son to an Estrellas game in San Pedro, it feels like home. La pelota has opened so many doors for building relationships and sharing the gospel here, as well. Thanks for combining so many of my loves into one place!

Even with all that, D.R., the part I will miss the most is your people. Your jóvenes playing pitilla in the middle of the street. The dads smacking down a domino loudly on the wood table. The music that annoyed me at first coming from the massive colmado speakers, now is almost a welcome characteristic of the barrio (if it’s not the vulgar songs playing). And all the pastors and church leaders and children and youth who are passionate about the gospel: we have seen God do some amazing things here, D.R.!

Tourists love you for your beaches and your Colonial Zone and your amazing history. I do, too. But you have meant more than that to us as a family.

I have learned to be more direct in my communication and to not shy away from conflict while living here.

We have laughed and cried and prayed with friends that have become family.

Thanks for allowing us to bring up our kids in a multi-cultural environment.

Thanks for the privilege of serving with and in you for 11 years.

Thanks for being authentically you, Dominican Republic. We will never be the same because of you.

Sincerely,

Scott (and Emily, Elijah, and Sydney) Armstrong