Yo Quiero Taco Bell

I cried two times since I’ve been here. The first was for God, the second out of self-pity. I decided to go with my family to their Dominican Christian Evangelist church and I loved it. There church was no different than a small Christian church you may find in the U.S. except the sermon was in Spanish. The church was filled with the Holy Spirit’s warmth and energy. It started with praise and worship songs, followed by a break out session, then more songs, then the Pastor spoke and then there was more singing.

I couldn’t stop smiling at this little girl who was standing up front with the band. She was the band leader’s daughter and couldn’t have been any older than four. She was dressed in an all pink outfit that read “daddy’s girl” across the chest and had two long braided pigtails draped over her shoulders. She stood with the other singers holding a microphone in her hand and was singing her little heart out to lyrics she barely knew, just moving her little mouth in the formations that produced similar sounds as the rest. The main thing about this little girl that kept calling my attention was her right eye. It was red and swollen and hung lazily on her face. I don’t know if she had pink eye or if that is just how it is naturally and I also couldn’t tell if she might be slower in the head than other kids her age. But the one thing that shone as bright and evident as the sun was the glowing love that she possessed. My eyes were glued to the passion she exuded as she sang from her big soul that fit snuggly inside her tiny frame. She grasped her microphone with more dedication to the word’s being sung to God than I have ever seen from anyone three times her size.

Another young girl that caught my eye was the friend of mi hermana named Bianca. Bianca is in high school and is very pretty. She was dressed in tight jeans and heels, typical Latina style, and carried an air of confidence like she would a purse. Complete with braces, a little acne, and lack of experience with makeup, she seemed like any other girl her age but yet she had an energy that everyone seemed to notice. She was one of those girls that lit up the room when she walked in. She seemed carefree and lovely. The type of girl you want to hang around and be friends with because everything just seems to go her way. And when she danced, it was ethereal. Her body moved with the fluidity of water. She was one of two girls dancing but it seemed the room was only watching Bianca. How her long arms encircled her head as she danced like long grass swaying in the wind, smiling the whole time with her braces beaming.

I watched her thinking in my head how much I wanted to be that carefree, beautiful, magnetic type of girl like the one twirling on stage before me. My heart sat heavy with sadness when abruptly, a voice in my mind said back to me powerfully, “You are. You are that girl, Alyssa.” And I just started crying. In the middle of their dance as the two girls came together in the center of the stage, tears began to flow as I realized that to God I was and have always been that girl that I so desperately want to be. That I am loved. That He has saved me and blessed me unbelievably and that truth, that powerful beautiful splendid truth overwhelmed me.

So you would assume that after having such a great connection with God earlier that day that I would have transcended into a place of self contentment, but ironically it didn’t. Instead later that same night my family tried to feed me arroz y pollo (rice and chicken) with beans for the fifth consecutive tonight, I bursted into tears once again. Half of the reason my digestive track was having a nervous breakdown was because of the adjustment to eating their food. I literally did the Charlotte from the first Sex in the City movie. My body could not handle eating any more rice, chicken and beans! I explained to my host mom my dilemma and she replied with a nonchalant “oh well” because that was what they ate every night because they can’t afford to switch up their food. So I called my REAL mother back home in the States and I felt better.
This experience is really showing me how grateful I am to be an American if not for any other beautiful reason than the simple satisfaction that I receive from our deliciously diverse food.