For today’s blog, I wanted to take a different route. A friend recently asked me what I’ve been learning since I arrived here, and after some reflection, I thought it would be nice to share a few lessons from my time so far.

1. Give Yourself Grace

What most people don’t know is that since coming here, I’ve been sick three times in just two months, and it really took a toll on my mental health. Every time I thought things were finally going well, I’d end up sick again. I felt discouraged, hopeless, and confused. Eventually, I realized that my body was simply having a hard time adjusting to the new climate and that it can sometimes take up to a year to fully acclimate to a new environment. Learning this helped me shift my mindset. This journey isn’t a race for the swiftest, but for those who endure. Being kind to myself has been one of the hardest but most necessary lessons as I build a new life in a completely different country.

quick selfie before church 🙂

2. Prioritize Rest

It’s so easy to get caught up in the busyness of my project that I sometimes forget to pause and breathe. I would jump from one task to another without realizing how drained I was until the weekend hit. I’ve learned that rest isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s a sign of discipline. Taking time to recharge and acknowledging when you need a break is vital if you want to produce meaningful work and show up fully for others. Rest also communicates trust, a reminder that it’s okay to let go and allow the One above to work things out.

Rest doesn’t always mean taking a nap. Sometimes it’s simply being intentional about doing things that bring peace after a long day of meaningful work.

Book I read for October

3. The World Is a Bigger Classroom

Living in the Dominican Republic has taught me invaluable lessons – ones no classroom could ever offer. This experience has shown me that the world itself is a vast and beautiful classroom, full of wisdom waiting to be discovered. Approaching this journey as a student has made me more curious, empathetic, and open-hearted. It’s deepened my love for people and sparked a hunger to see and understand more of the world God created.

This was my first time going to the beach since I’ve been here.

4. We were created for community

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve battled with loneliness since being here. In some ways, I tried to convince myself that isolation was what I needed in this season, but deep down, I knew that wasn’t true. Leaning into community, both near and far, has allowed me to land softly in spaces that make me feel seen, loved, heard, and safe. Community will carry you when you can’t carry yourself. It will speak life into you when your own words fall short. I truly believe that I am where I am today because of the people who have surrounded me. Their presence reminds me that I don’t have to do this alone. It’s because of the community that I’ve been able to endure the harder moments of this journey and even find beauty in them.

Some doctors and nurses visited the workshop and hosted a medical clinic for the women.

5. Remember your why

We hear this one often, but there’s something powerful about being in moments that feel impossible when the only thing keeping you grounded is remembering why you’re here. Holding on to my why has made me a better leader, friend, student, and person. I’ve been given the privilege of impacting lives, even if only for a short span of six months, and that is something I never want to take for granted. The women I work with deserve to know me when my cup is full. Remembering my why helps me refill it to challenge my own beliefs, get back up when I fall, and humbly admit that I don’t have it all figured out.

Teaching Math to our youngest rescue.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Phillippians 4:6-7

I’ve lost count of how many weeks have flown by—somehow, we’re already nearing the end of October. It feels surreal to realize I’m heading into yet another month in San Pedro. Even after almost two months here, I feel like I’ve only just begun to scratch the surface of what life is truly like in this place.

These past two weeks have been a rollercoaster—filled with both challenges and moments of joy. I’ve been sick for the second time since arriving, and it’s been strange how much my body continues to struggle adjusting to the environment. I thought it would be similar to home, but it hasn’t been.

Here in San Pedro, we often experience daily power outages. The heat is intense—draining, really—and it’s left me constantly dehydrated and physically exhausted. Some days, it takes a real toll on me mentally, emotionally, and physically. I’ve had moments where I don’t quite feel like myself, and that’s been hard.

These struggles have also led me to reflect on healthcare here. Through conversations with Dominicans living in San Pedro, I’ve learned that the local healthcare system is deeply flawed. Many doctors don’t take time to explain diagnoses or build relationships with patients, and some even perform surgeries without fully understanding the patient’s condition. It’s unsettling. Knowing that the nearest reliable hospital is in the capital—over an hour away—sometimes fills me with fear. I feel grateful that back home, access to quality healthcare is something I can count on, but here, many people don’t have that privilege or even know what that would look like.

On a lighter note, I recently went to my first baseball game here, and it was such a fun experience! San Pedro’s team, the Estrellas (Stars), played against the Leones (Lions) of Santo Domingo. I didn’t grow up watching sports, so I came in with little knowledge, but I’ve quickly learned that Dominicans are passionate about baseball. I was surprised to find out how many Dominican players go on to play in the MLB. It’s such a serious pursuit here that some young people even drop out of school to train full-time, hoping to go pro and lift their families out of poverty.

The energy at the game was electric. At first, it was pretty chill—the Estrellas were in the lead—but as the Lions started catching up, the whole stadium came alive. Fans were on their feet, the tension was high, and every home run brought an eruption of joy: drums beating, music playing, people dancing and cheering. I loved seeing how sports can bring people together and create such a powerful sense of community. It truly filled me with joy. My boss and I are now thinking about taking the women from the workshop to a game, and I’m really looking forward to sharing that experience with them.

The Estrellas’ team mascot. The teams’ colors hare Green, White, Pink and Black

As I continue my time here in San Pedro, I’m learning that this experience is as much about personal growth as it is about cultural immersion. The challenges—physical, emotional, and environmental—have stretched me in ways I didn’t expect, but they’ve also deepened my empathy and appreciation for the resilience of the people around me. Moments of joy, like the baseball game, remind me that even amid difficulty, there is always space for connection, celebration, and community. I know there is still so much more to learn and experience here, and while it hasn’t always been easy, I’m grateful for every piece of it.

^“because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” James 1:3-4

My boss enjoying her lolipop.

Picture of the field.

The past two weeks in San Pedro have unfolded at a slower, more deliberate pace than usual. With most of my coworkers, including my boss, out of town, I’ve had the rare opportunity to experience this space more independently. While the office felt quieter and the rhythm of daily tasks more relaxed, I found this time to be valuable in a different way. It gave me the space to focus on personal goals I had been putting off—goals that often get buried under the noise and busyness of everyday responsibilities.

Living in San Pedro continues to be a unique and enriching experience. I’ve enjoyed immersing myself in this new culture and environment, but I’m also learning how easy it is to be so present in the moment that future planning can slip away. If there’s one thing this experience has taught me, it’s that time is moving quickly. With hopes of pursuing a master’s degree in Fall 2026, I’m reminded that preparation must begin now, reaching out to professors, drafting application essays, and organizing the many requirements that come with this next chapter. My hope during this season is to become more disciplined in my dreams, knowing that much of my success so far has come from thoughtful planning.

Beyond professional and academic aspirations, I’ve been navigating another reality—loneliness. Some days here feel heavy with the absence of my community. I miss the ease of being known, of not having to explain myself or justify how I think or feel. I miss the familiarity and security that come with longstanding relationships. Though I’ve met some amazing people and have experienced genuine moments of connection, there are still days when I feel like an outsider—unsure of whether I’m truly welcome or simply tolerated. Trying to integrate myself into the lives and plans of others can feel invasive at times, like I’m intruding rather than belonging.

Even so, I’m incredibly grateful for my roommate, Sydney. Her presence has been grounding and consistent in the midst of this transition. We’ve created a nightly ritual of sharing dinner while watching an episode of Gilmore Girls, which I’ve never seen before. She’s brought a sense of home into this unfamiliar place, and I’m confident that our friendship will continue long after my time here ends.

My life has shifted in so many small but meaningful ways since arriving here, from the foods I eat to the hobbies I’ve taken up in my free time. More than anything, I feel a strong desire to grow—to learn, explore, and embrace the challenge of adapting to a space that wasn’t built with me in mind. That challenge, though uncomfortable, has helped me develop a deeper appreciation for the life I’ve left behind and the new opportunities ahead.

Though these last two weeks may have felt quieter, I’m learning to value the slow seasons. They offer space for reflection on both the joyful and difficult moments and allow me to share my journey with honesty and gratitude.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10

I’m just a few days away from my one-month mark here, and life is moving fast. There’s so much gratitude in that—because each day brings me closer to reuniting with my loved ones—but it’s also bittersweet knowing that one day this experience will only be a cherished memory. Living in the DR has been teaching me lessons I didn’t anticipate. Working with a faith-based organization has opened my eyes to the realities of missionary life and what it looks like to intertwine faith with humanitarian work. As someone who stands firm in my faith, I know that everything I have comes from God alone. With hopes of one day becoming a diplomat, it excites me to see that my faith could also carry into that future—maybe even through missionary work.

During week 3, I attended an anti-trafficking presentation led by the Ministry of Women and the Ministry of Public Health here in San Pedro. Even though I could not understand every word in Spanish, I walked away with a deeper knowledge of the realities of trafficking. Many people think it only happens when someone is taken across borders, but it can also happen within your own country. Sometimes, tragically, it’s a family member, a husband, or someone close who sells you or forces you into the streets.

For some of the women in the room, the presentation was overwhelming, but it was so necessary. Conversations like these are the first step toward prevention, healing, and empowerment. I believe wholeheartedly that our work is not only about nurturing women back to “health” through a recovery program but also equipping them to stand strong and advocate for others who may one day be in their position. Process is never easy, but it’s incredible to see how God uses seasons of breaking and rebuilding to prepare us for something greater than we can imagine.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been conducting interviews—listening not just to survivors, but to mothers, wives, and daughters. What may have been moments of brokenness in their past have now become testimonies of resilience and strength. It’s an honor to sit in their presence. I’ll be honest—I struggled in the beginning to build connections with them, for many reasons. Even with the language barrier (and the Dominican twist on Spanish that I’m still getting used to), I’ve been learning that community is built as much on action as it is on words. So, I greet them with a smile, eat lunch with them, laugh when they laugh, hug them when needed—and in those simple things, I’ve learned that kindness never goes unnoticed.

This past weekend has been full of fun activities. Allison (my boss) and I spent a day in Santo Domingo(the capital) exploring the Colonial Zone —it was BEAUTIFUL. The Spanish influence in the buildings and environment gave me a familiar feeling of being back in Spain. We ate good food, I enjoyed a raspberry and vanilla paleta (popsicle), and we visited two different coffee shops because, well, my boss has an addiction. Haha. It’s moments like these that remind me that while parts of the DR reflect hardship, there’s richness, culture, and beauty waiting to be discovered, and it was refreshing to take it all in.

Moreover, I’ve had the opportunity not just to pour into others but to be poured into by the community here. The missionary circle has embraced me and created space for both my new experience and my heart. We had a super fun sip-and-paint night where we painted pumpkins (I like to think mine was the best one), laughed, shared stories, and ended the evening in worship. I sat there in awe of how quickly the Lord shows up when hearts are willing to invite Him in. These simple, joy-filled moments have reminded me that God is present in both the big lessons and the small gatherings. My heart is full, and I can feel that He’s only just getting started.

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. – John 16:33

I

I can’t believe two weeks have already flown by in San Pedro. Honestly, I don’t even know where to begin. When I first landed, I walked off the plane with this expectation that my time here just had to be life changing. What I didn’t realize right away is that transformation always comes through process—and process isn’t easy.

The first week was rough. It was hard not being surrounded by the people who know me best, hard having to rely on FaceTime just to feel connected, trying to adapt to an environment where everything is unfamiliar, and hard living in what felt like constant survival mode. Only three days in, I got sick. At first, I thought it was allergies, but it turned out to be a cold. Being in a new place where everyone feels like a stranger, the last thing I wanted was to be sick. I was discouraged, sad, and I just wanted to go home. I cried every day, questioning if this was really what I was supposed to be doing. But even in those moments of hopelessness, I kept reminding myself: I’ve been equipped for this assignment.

San Pedro isn’t one of the prettiest towns in the DR—you won’t find many tourists roaming its streets—but it has a raw beauty that grows on you. It’s a place full of character and history, where every building tells a story, moto conchos (motorcycle taxis) zip through traffic, families are building lives in the middle of the bustle, a breathtaking view of the ocean by the Malecon, and where missionaries have devoted their lives. It took me a while to see the city for what it really is, but now I believe I’ve only just begun to scratch the surface. San Pedro may not glitter, but it’s definitely gold.

By week two, I chose to enter with a new mindset: an open heart, ready to soak up every moment of what truly feels like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Although I had been visiting my workplace, Mercy Workshops, almost every day, I officially started my job a few days ago. Over the next several weeks, I’ll have the privilege of interviewing the women of Mercy and hearing their stories as survivors of trafficking and how they overcame. Just being in that space, watching the women support one another, challenge themselves to grow, and pour love into the jewelry they create, I think to myself, Wow. I get to do this. Their lives are a testament to God’s unfailing goodness and the result of someone’s yes. I am humbled to share in this experience with them.

My coworkers, Jen and Elisabeth, have made my transition so much easier. Elisabeth always makes sure there’s a smile on my face, while Jen has this calm, steady presence that grounds me in a way I didn’t know I needed. I am grateful for them. In addition, my boss is my best friend. Allison Hale is the CEO of Mercy, and it’s been so much fun having an automatic partner in crime here, when she’s off the clock, of course. Watching her show up every single day with passion, pouring into her staff, reminds me what it looks like to do meaningful and necessary work. Running a nonprofit is never easy, and I can only hope I can be of real help to her and the mission

All in all, the lows have been low, but the highs have been very high. I have now ridden several moto conchos, survived JUMBO (el supermercado) at its busiest, crossed the streets of San Pedro (which is a big deal), started the gym, watched Fantastic 4 in Spanish with no subtitles, drank several mango smoothies,  went to Ikea, had lots of Chinese food, and found my way to church with no help. Safe to say, I’m doing just fine. Haha.

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 41:10

I remember packing my carry-on suitcase and stepping out on faith to attend Belmont University in Nashville. Four years later, I have graduated with my degree in Communication Studies and Global Leadership Studies. What once felt like an impossible journey has come full circle, and now I find myself preparing to embark on a new one at the end of this summer. This season has been slower than most—I worked, laughed, cried, and created countless memories without the looming weight of “what’s next.” For the first time in a while, I gave myself permission to be present, knowing these memories would one day carry me through harder seasons.

Preparing to move to the Dominican Republic has been filled with conversations with family and friends. Some were confused—unsure of where I’d stay, what I’d be doing, or even why I’d want to live there for six months. But others were excited, their pride shining through as they reminded me that this was the future I had spoken about since the very beginning. Through it all, I’ve learned that not everyone will see the vision God places in your heart, but that doesn’t make it the wrong one. My life has been a constant lesson in trusting God, even in the midst of uncertainty. Whenever fear—often the projections of others—threatened to creep in, I chose to stand firm in His promises for my life.

My final weeks in Nashville were beautifully bittersweet. I cherished time with a community I had prayed for—days filled with joy, laughter, coffee runs, zoo trips, piña coladas, long walks, and yes, even some tears. Saying “see you later” to the city that shaped me into the woman I’m becoming was harder than I expected. But I know goodbyes are necessary when purpose calls you to the nations. As I wrestle with expectations of living in a new country, I remind myself that while my island upbringing prepared me in many ways, this experience will be unique. I am nervous about speaking Spanish and navigating an entirely new life, but I also believe every challenge—the good and the hard—will shape me in profound ways.

What excites me most is the chance to do something no one in my family has ever done. My parents, siblings, grandparents, and cousins have not walked this path, and yet I get to pave the way. I hope that other young Bahamians, and young people in general, will see what it looks like to step out in faith and live a dream that doesn’t always make sense to others. I am eager to take you all on this journey as I go global, trusting that God is writing something greater than I could ever imagine.

To close, I want to share a scripture that has been placed on my heart as I begin this new chapter— an anchor to remind me that though I may not know exactly what awaits, I do know who goes

before me.
Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.
Isaiah 43:19