I still remember it as if it were yesterday. I remember the hour, the tears, the smells, and the regret. It’s hard to believe that it has been thirteen years today.

I was eleven, young, naive, and innocent. My only worry was what boy do I like this week and did I stuff my bra enough. I didn’t have an understanding of the evils of this world, let alone how death works. In my mind, I believed that one loses their grandparents first and then down the list. Little did I know that life was going to throw me a surprise I wish I never received.

My uncle and I were close. We were 13 years apart but he made me laugh like no other. He loved me and I loved him. He understood me and I wanted to be near him every second that I could get. He had a tattoo of my name on his foot and I remember every time I’d see it, my heart would smile and reassure me of the love he had for his niece. I have many tender memories of time shared together but not enough. Not enough.

I miss him.

We spent his twenty-fifth birthday together and I remember my mom wanting to surprise him badly. We bought him a cake, several candles, and gifts. We anxiously awaited his arrival and when he finally did, we turned off the lights and prepared for “SURPRISE!” My uncle greeted us with laughs and yelling at us. We never got the opportunity to surprise him because he had confessed that we left the kitchen window open and he saw everything. It was the greatest moment I remember of my uncle; he walking through our front door yelling at us for lack of preparation.

I miss him.

That night went by quickly. We opened gifts; I hugged him many times, and reminded him of how awesome he was. There was so much going on that I knocked out on the couch with my head comfortably resting on his lap. The last I recall of that evening was being woken up with a “Good-bye Frances, I love you” from my uncle as he walked out of the house. I should’ve stood up and hugged my uncle. I wish I would’ve yelled back that I loved him. I could’ve. I should’ve. Why didn’t I? Why did I choose to fall back asleep? That decision was one that I regretted for many years.

Five days after the celebration, it was two in the morning and the phone in the other room kept ringing. At the time, my grandma lived with us and she answered. Moments later, I heard her scurrying to get my mom and dad. I asked what was going on but my mom simply closed my door, which was ajar, and told me to go back to sleep. I did.

Seven hours later and my mom is waking me up. When I open my eyes, all I remember was her telling me that my uncle is having stomach surgery and that she needs to drop my brother and me off at a family friend’s house. I jumped out of bed and proceeded to brush my teeth. I remember looking at my reflection and the thought did he die? My eyes filled with tears just at the thought of losing him. I told myself to stop worrying like that and I ran to the living room to search for answers. I saw my baby brother coloring so I decided to join him, for whatever reason. As we sat there, my father walked up to me as broken as I’ve ever seen my him, whose exterior is that of a tough, hard man. All I heard was, “I have to tell you something, your uncle was shot this morning and he didn’t make it.”

I went numb.

Shock. I was blank. My heart fell to the ground, I felt it leap out of my body and just lay there. I got up as calm as I could. Ran to the couch, turned on the news and waited for the news to tell me something. As if I had predicted it, the news reporter reported the story. “…A quarrel…fatal shooting of Luis Daniel Colon…” I sobbed. I sobbed. I sobbed. Everything after that is a blur.

Everything I thought was a lie. Things like that can happen. I refuse to get into the details any more. I have forgiven the two parties involved in my uncle’s death, including the shooter. He took the life of a man, a good man, and he will have to live with that for the rest of his life. It’s been thirteen years today and no one has been arrested. The shooter fled and he’s lived a life for thirteen years. I am sad for my grandmother who still bears the desire to see justice served. I am sad for my family, my dad, who’s had a piece of them taken away, unexpectedly.

I miss him so much. I wonder what kind of grown adult he’d be now. I wonder if we would laugh off all of the mistakes we’ve both made. I am comforted by the fact that I have an angel looking down on me. I’ve had to let go of the fact that I never got an opportunity to say good-bye to him. For so long I wanted that, badly. Now, I am just thankful that I knew him and got to spend time with him. I know I will see him one day and I look forward to that, very much.

It is no mystery that I have several tattoos. They are some of which I have collected in the past few years. I have never thought that they changed my heart, my beliefs or how people saw me until this past school year when one of my students’ comments challenged me.

I heard the words, “Christians don’t get tattoos, that’s sinful.” Another student quickly responded in defense but that comment never left my mind. I wondered if I had confused my students or anyone for that matter; my brother, my teens at the Edge, my family or even strangers. Did my tattoos send the image that I was not a Christ follower?

I looked at my tattoos, which were out in the open and anger filled my heart and soul, not toward my student but at the ignorance of that comment. But to be honest, I did wonder whether this made me a bad Christian or not. I googled many forums online that answered this simple question: “Should Christians get tattoos?” Sadly, many forums criticized Christians getting tattoos and even called them of this world. I cried. I cried a lot. I, myself, was confused as to why I had made the decision of getting tattoos. If you’ve ever felt the feeling of regret, this was it.

After prayer and reading scripture, I came to the conclusion that my tattoos weren’t something I did in vain or something that defines how much I love Christ and desire to follow him. Our world is broken. Our church is broken. 1 Corinthians 10:31 says, “So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.” Every tattoo on my body is for the purpose to tell a story of God’s work in my life.

I have three tattoos currently. The first one that I got was when I was 19 and it’s my uncle’s name on my foot. I love(d) my uncle. I miss him dearly and by wearing his name on my foot allows me to share his story and always remember him. I get asked about it almost everyday. My second tattoo is on my wrist, my dad helped design it and it is a cross with a treble clef wrapped around it. It is a reminder that everything I do, talents I use, that it may be for Christ and Christ alone. My last tattoo is a recent tattoo and one that I do wish I had waited for. I would like it removed in the future but for now, I love that it reminds me of my strength and what I have endured the last eight years. It is an infinity sign with the words Proverbs 31:25. It is a great and final reminder to me but also a way for me to share my story with others.

We should not judge others based on our appearances but sadly, we do. Judgment often prevents us from seeing what’s within or who the person is but that is the world we live in. It’s the world I live in. I had never thought about the judgment I would receive when I got these tattoos but thanks to my student, I was able to look beyond what was on my skin and more into what they truly mean to me. I do live in a world that is filled with presumptions and that’s something I’ve had to accept in the last few weeks. I love my God, I try and be more like him every day, and I have tattoos.

I think this will be the last time that I say that this past year has been one of those most difficult in my life because it has also been one of the greatest. One year ago, tomorrow, I shared one of my deepest and darkest secrets. When I wrote that blog post, I never proofread it nor edited it. I couldn’t face what I was typing, even at that moment. Recently, I felt ready to re-read my pain. More than anything, I found many grammatical mistakes but in all reality, I was a broken mess waiting for God’s healing.

Quickly after I shared that story publicly, the amount of support that I received was quite overwhelming. I didn’t realize that there were so many women who had experienced similar events in their life as me. My original goal in writing and sharing my story so publicly was because I wanted people to understand where I was coming from. I was living in this secret and it was killing me, drawing me in and out of severe depression. I began to struggle with alcohol as a coping mechanism. I felt that people never understood me and never felt the interest to get to know me further than me just being a teacher/ student. I have always hidden behind titles and I wanted a break out.

What I didn’t expect in all of this was that I would finally have the relationship I always desired with God I didn’t think I could have friends who were supportive, loving, and kind, and that I could actually heal from my past. I grew up this past year. The best decision I made was opening up and allowing others to share their story with me. They helped me heal because I knew I wasn’t alone in what I was going through. Tomorrow marks an anniversary of a big year for me. Tomorrow marks a reminder that God never has never left me, that my story is His, and that I am being made brand new.

Today, I don’t struggle with the depression I once did and my self-esteem is renewed; I like myself, in and out. Today, I approve of the woman I am. I have grown, through tears and letting go but I did it. This is in no way over for me. Every day, I will struggle with different things involving my story but I have supportive friends, family, but most of all, an amazing and forgiving God. I can’t wait to see what he brings to my life this year!

If you’d like to read the unedited story I wrote one year ago, click below:

This Is My Story. 

If you would have told me last year that this is where I’d be this year, I would deny it, laugh in your face, and think you’re crazy. This year, I have to admit, has been one of the most difficult for me in many ways. I have cried many tears this year but not all had to do with sadness. I have had to learn a lot about myself and that’s not always easy. I’ve had to take a good look in the mirror and admit to what’s wrong and what isn’t wrong with me. This year, I learned to like myself again after many, many years of hating myself. Notice how I said like, I still have a long road ahead.

As the new year approaches, like everyone else, I want to romanticize of all the opportunities the new year brings. New this, New that. For the first time ever, I am not going to do that. There is no resolution for this girl and no romantic feelings about the new year. I am  going to take a realistic approach because there is nothing romantic where my life is headed. Maybe there is a bit of cynicism in all of this but I promise it is not my intention. I want to take a realistic approach because I want to set goals that I can actually achieve. Too often I find that I create these elaborate lists of things I want out of the new year to only be disappointed. Not this time.

For my final blog post of the year, I want to also take a moment and reflect on the blessings 2012 has brought me. It’s easier to look ahead with hope of something better than to look back at the heartache and sadness. I want it to be known that this year, I have learned the true meaning of friendship and what it means to reach out when you need a friend but to also stand alongside one who is in need of a friend. I want it to be known that I love Jesus and that he has saved me from some pretty dark places in my life and it took me quite some time to finally let go and trust him. 2012 was the year I made that commitment to Christ. I want it to known that I love working with kids in spite of working under a system that is crumbling under pressure. I want it to be known that I am hurting but I will be okay. This was a tough year and next year will be a toughie too.

I like that we all look forward to a new year with open hearts and minds. Hope. We hope for something bigger and better than the year before. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I wasn’t hoping for better opportunities and such. I hope for more opportunities to work in missions, more opportunities to impact kids in this broken world, and more opportunities to just get to know Frances. I’d like to think that 2013 will be my year but I have to remind myself, I am not running this show. I pray that this year you are all blessed and that your wishes, big or small, come true. Thank you for your love and support.

And onto the next chapter.

Happy New Year!

Every morning when I wake up, I can’t help but be thankful for the fact that my heart is still beating and get the privilege to watch the sunrise, to teach 120 kids, and to smile because I can. Today, I thankful for all of those same things but am reminded of how blessed I truly am.

First of all, I am thankful to have a God who loves me in spite of me being a mess up. Without him, who do I count on? This has been one of the toughest years in my life but I can always look up and know that He has it all under control. Being that this has been a very difficult year, I have been blessed with an amazing group of friends, old and new. There have been moments this year where I have needed some strength from friends and  have not stumbled upon one who couldn’t offer me their shoulder to cry on, a friend to laugh with, or just some solid advice. I am thankful for those of you who have been there and continue to be there.

Today I am thankful for my family. Of course this may be a cliche but I am really thankful for them. I am fortunate enough to have parents who love me unconditionally, who continue to protect me, and pick me up when I’ve fallen. I am thankful for my brother, especially. In spite of our recent ups and downs, I know he is a true constant in my life. He thinks I am weird but somehow manages to love me. I am mostly thankful that I get to be his sister!

Lastly, and I will just list a few extra things here, I am thankful for my dogs. They make me smile when I am in the midst of tears or under a lot of stress. I love them tremendously. I am thankful to have a job and an opportunity to serve along side some great leaders at Summit. Both allow me to pour into the lives of kids and build solid relationships. I am thankful for my church because it has taught me real love.

Today is a day to reflect on all of these things but I have to remind myself that although I am grateful for all of these, I need to do a better job in actually giving thanks. May you all have a blessed day along with your family and friends and I especially hope that you eat a lot of turkey!

“Gratitude is an inward feeling of kindness received. Thankfulness is the natural impulse to express that feeling. Thanksgiving is the following of that impulse. ” -Henry Van Dyke

July 14, 2012- Adios, Barahona.

I can’t believe the moment has come where I leave the DR. I can’t help but think of where this week went. My brain is on shuffle and memories keep coming and going.

When I first arrived to the DR, I wasn’t sure what to expect or how God was going to use me. I did want him to break me but I didn’t think that was possible. Two days after arriving, God broke me by allowing me to hear Juanchi’s story. God didn’t waste any time either. From watching kids play with their handmade toy cars to hearing confusion about being a Christian. I feel vulnerable right now but I like it. My rose colored glasses are off and I can see that this world isn’t as it should be.

I prayed out loud for people for the first time in my life. I’ve also shared the gospel with people who had never heard it. I held hands with children who had dirt imprinted on their skin. I taught Vacation Bible School to tons and tons of kids in Spanish and because of all of this, a piece of my heart is staying here, in the DR. I had a bond with ten other people that can never be broken. We have laughed together and cried ever harder together. I have been able to open up to them and be my complete self with this group of people. I am so blessed to have had a team like them.

When I land on US soil, I want to remember this moment, this moment right here. I want to be reminded of how much God loves us but also how much work still needs to be done. I haven’t made a dent in what I can do to help. For the next several months, I want to be still and reflect on this trip. Through that, I hope God clarifies what he wants out of me, whether it be sponsoring Miguel or coming back to teach English. Either way and as afraid as I am, I am really ready to be used by God.

If you’d like to see more pictures of my trip, check them out here:

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10100254131415973.2312176.57213123&type=1&l=939a305680

July 13, 2012

Breakfast felt a little different today. The bus ride to Altagracia would be as well. It was our final morning with the community of Altgracia. The last time I would hug Andreisa, or Arturo or my translator Miguel. We drove up to the village and the kids ran straight to us. Andreisa found me, ran up and hugged me and asked, “Tu te vas mañana?” (Are you leaving tomorrow?) I hugged her tightly and nodded my head. I am going to miss her.

My Provector flower team, Sara Ann, Miguel, and I went off to distribute a few more flowers that didn’t get delivered the day before. I was very tired but uplifted in knowing that people recognized me. I prayed for a ton of families and their children. We even prayed for a house that had a voodoo doll stuck to its side. That was probably one of the most chilling moments I had experienced on the trip.

After completing the placements of the flowers, I began a lovely conversation with Miguel. We talked about his schooling and schools in America. He proceeded to tell me that there wasn’t a good English teacher working with the village. Many of the village kids take an English class but the teacher’s aren’t effective. My heart ached as I spoke with Miguel about his angst on this issue.

Our conversation must’ve lasted for almost an hour when other college students joined in, including the school principal. For a moment, I wanted to leave everything in America to join COTN and teach English. In my mind, I said a little prayer in hopes that God would give me clarity on what I’m supposed to do. I knew then that my trip to DR wouldn’t be a one-time event.

Time seemed to speed up because before I knew it, we were being called to leave. I hugged all of “my” little children, especially Andreisa. She ran off so I continued to hug all of the University students that I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know. Lastly, I hugged Miguel and it was then that I knew I had to sponsor him. When I was moments away from boarding the bus, Andreisa came back running to me and hugged me. The hug was one I’ll never forget. She squeezed me as tight as she could and my eyes filled with tears. I grabbed her face with tears in my eyes, kissed her forehead, and said, “Te quiero, te amo! Recuerdas, yo te quiero mucho!” (I love you. Remember, I love you very much!) As we drove off, my heart was overwhelmed. It was happy, sad, desperate to help, angry, and blessed. I didn’t feel blessed because I had “things”, I felt blessed to know these people of Barahona. I came to the DR to change lives but in reality, it is they who changed me.

Lunch was amazing, as usual, and very Dominican style. I took my time to eat it as if I were trying to pause time for a moment. I knew that once I finished my meal, it would be time to gather my belongings and go. I didn’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave.

After lunch, we boarded our vans and headed to a hotel near the airport where we would be spending our last night in the DR. I won’t lie, that shower that I took there was amazing but it didn’t matter because I wanted to nothing more than to be back in Barahona. Our tour guide Juanchi, whom my heart can’t help but love, gave us an awesome evening by offering us a tour of Santo Domingo. This country my friends, is beautiful.

Our van ride from Barahona was a three-hour painting. God, thank you for such beauty and for reminding us how much you love us. As I placed my head down for my last night of sleeping in paradise, I thanked God for gifting me with this experience, for loving me that much that he allowed me to meet and pour into the incredible people of this country. I will miss this place.

July 12, 21012

It’s bittersweet to think that my time here in the DR is almost over. My heart is so different today and I am the not the same woman I was a week ago. A piece of me is being left behind here and I have a strong desire to do more with my life and I pray that I never lose that fire. 

Today, we as a team, put up 40 more flowers, which means we had 40 more opportunities to share the gospel. Christ was there, so present, and it was beautiful. Sara Ann and I prayed for three people who came to Christ and accepted him right then and there. Such an amazing moment to experience with them. We also came across another woman who had not accepted Christ. My first response was, “Why?” Her response will stick with me forever. He reasoning for not accepting Christ was because she didn’t want to stop wearing pants or dancing. I have met so many young people that don’t consider themselves “Christians” because of the way they dress of the music they listen to.

There was a huge part of me that wanted to shake each and every one of them of their confusion. They don’t understand the concept that God loves you in shorts the same as if you were wearing a skirt. It begged the thought, how many people are lost because of “rules” imposed by ignorance?

One of the village students who had been our Haitian translator, Miguel, doesn’t consider himself a Christian because he doesn’t wear long sleeves to church and listens to love songs. First of all, DR is one of the hottest places I’ve ever been to so I don’t blame him for wanting to wear short sleeves and who doesn’t like I little serenade here and there? We had a lengthy conversation about our hearts, the gospel and what he knows about Jesus. He knows the bible, he knows Jesus, and he understands that God loves him deeply in spite of his sins. It breaks my heart to see him express himself so sure of whom God is but is shamed by his community because of physical things. I am considering being his sponsor because I want to be the influence he needs as he’s growing up, becoming a man. I don’t want him to lose his faith in God and in people around him.

In my time in the DR, I have realized that there’s a broken understanding of who God is and what it means to be a Christian. Not so different from what it’s like back in the US. If I was offered with this kind of Christianity, I would not be in the least bit interested. I feel that the meaning of Christianity has been lost somewhere. Christians are so caught up with saying the perfect things or acting in a perfect way where being a Christ follower is about the heart. It doesn’t matter what you wear, it matters of what’s in your heart.

Our last night at the Casa was superb. The COTN staff cooked a special meal for us and gifted us with a slide show that brought me to tears. It was beautiful and a great reminder of how much this week was a blessing to me. Our work this week has meant a lot to the people of Barahona and I am inspired to do more.

During our celebration, our team leader OJ went up to speak and thank the staff as well. We presented them with a video so that they are reminded of the work they’ve done and how thankful the community is of them. During our tears, there was a break filled with laughter. A COTN employee, David, was asked to translate for the people of Barahona while OJ spoke. OJ had said that when we get to heaven, there would be a table filled with laughter and David translated it into “table filled with lobsters.” The other Spanish girl on my team, Mirianette, and I broke into tears from laughter. What made that moment even more sweet was that no one in the room but us knew what was going on. I couldn’t have asked for a better way to end such an incredible week.

On July 11, 2012, my team and I embarked on an amazing journey. Not only did we have the opportunity to go door to door in a village to share the Provector Flower but we got to bond with a community. I shared a blog post with my home church in Orlando after this experience. To my surprise, COTN (Children of the Nations) decided to publish my blog post on their site and my story was one of the top three stories of the summer. This is the story that was published:

It All Started With a Flower: A Venture Participant Tells Her Story

In July, Fran Muller went on her first Venture trip to the Dominican Republic with Children of the Nations (COTN).  Her team, from Summit Church of Orlando, Florida, was there to hang ProVector flowers—plastic flowers that attract and kill mosquitoes in order to decrease the risk of malaria and dengue fever—and share the gospel door-to-door.  It turned out to be much more of a learning experience than she expected.  Here are her reflections on the trip:

I knew that coming on this trip would involve serving people and loving families like Jesus would. But I never thought God would use these families to break away my own fears about sharing the gospel.

If you need someone to pray for you in a group setting, I’ve never been the one to ask. If you need someone to share the gospel, I’ve never been the one to ask. I know how to pray, and I know enough about Jesus to talk about Him, but I’ve always been afraid of what people would think of my prayers or how I shared the gospel.

On Wednesday, our team split up into smaller groups and went door-to-door to hang ProVector flowers in houses in the village of Altagracia. These flowers are supposed to help prevent malaria and dengue fever by attracting and killing mosquitoes. Once we hung these flowers, we were asked to share the gospel. Let’s not forget that I was to be the main translator in my group, so I’d be doing most of the speaking. “Great,” I thought.

My anxiety Wednesday morning was through the roof. I could’ve had a panic attack if I allowed myself. I had to pray out loud and share what I know about Jesus for the very first time. My knees shook as I approached the first house with my friend Sara Ann and a local translator, Miguel. We knocked, and I froze. A lovely woman greeted us with a smile that could warm up the sun. She asked us to sit, and I proceeded to explain about the ProVector flower. After that, my next step was to ask if she knew Jesus. I took a deep breath and went for it. The conversation that ensued was something above spectacular. God was present. He gave me the words, and most of all, courage.

An older woman learned about Christ for the first time, and another woman cried as we prayed for her. Something happened there. Sara Ann and I can’t explain it, but we know it was special. I actually prayed for people, out loud, and I wasn’t afraid of whether my Spanish prayer was good enough—I knew it was just right.

Coming to the Dominican Republic broke away fears I had about prayer and even sharing the gospel. God had a purpose with all of this, above what I could have imagined. I came to help the Dominican people know more about Jesus, but they helped me break a fear I’ve had since I was a little girl.  I’ve cared far too long about what people think about me instead of looking up. Today, I’m different. I’m not afraid anymore, and it only took a flower to start the process of change

July 10, 2012- Children

Today, I learned first hand about the difficulties of living in a village or “batey”. Our day started as usual. We had breakfast and went off to work with the little children and their families. I am still feeling shook up about last night and what I found out about Juanchi but my spiritual and emotional walls have come up. Today is a new day and I ready to experience fully, fearless.

We were to begin our project today, which was setting up Provector Flowers. Unfortunately, we didn’t have all of the pieces to the flower so it had to be moved for tomorrow. We had a whole day to just spend time with the kids from the village. Some of my teammates decided to take advantage of the day and create a skit for the children’s VBS (Vacation Bible School). This gave us all a chance to worship, play, and speak with the kids. All in all, it was a great relationship builder.

After we completed our morning at the village, “Altagracia”, we headed over to another village called, “Los Robles”. At this village, I was able to spend time with one my girls I met on the first day, Noelia. Soon after spending time with her, I realized she had violent tendencies. My team and I ran VBS for this village too and we worshiped and played together. During most games, I noticed many kids getting extremely violent with each other by hitting, punching, pinching, and biting. It was quite sad.

I had a great opportunity to get into conversations with some of the older kids. They were about 6-7 years old but were far wiser than an American six year old. They told me that they would drink on occasion and do other things that I would never imagine a child doing. At that moment, I realized that these kids are exposed to adult things at such an early age. There is no such thing as privacy. What separates their room from their parents is a sheet. They know too much too soon. Drugs and alcohol are easily accessible to these kids and they don’t have a normal childhood because of this exposure. They have to survive and sharing their belongings is not an option and that’s when violence comes in.

The harsh reality for me today was that these kids grow up too fast. They have to grow up so quickly because of what they see so soon. I am so thankful that I was able to have a real childhood but my heart breaks because the children of Barahona don’t have that luxury.