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If happiness can truly be achieved, and it is not just an illusion as one might think, how is it come by?

Some might describe me as happy. True, some people would also describe me as weird and I have withstood some accusations of drugs, but those who actually know me describe me as happy.  See, happiness is a funny thing. It’s a sort of carelessness, a joy that cannot truly be attributed to anything because it’s just there. Worst thing about it is, like anything else, it is an emotion that can be seen in a person’s eyes.

I don’t know how to find happiness. If I had an answer, it would be no use anyway because I would instantly have about a million critics and people would listen to them long before considering my side. But, regardless, if a single person got something from this impromptu article it would be worth writing.

Most people attribute certain things to happiness that have done nothing to earn that respect. Money, firstly, though it is excellent for comfort, is not a source of happiness. Wealth is unstable. No one can be truly happy with instability.

Power. People think that to achieve great power and influence would make them happy because, inevitably, all anyone ever strives for is happiness. World conquest, some think, would make them happy, would make them fulfilled, but even if one managed to take the world, happiness would still be elusive.

People drink, have sex, try drugs, have children, earn money, study to achieve greatness, all for a certain satisfaction that inevitably, they think, will stem to happiness. When they find happiness, as many do in their families, they try to find ways to keep it, thus some people would love to live forever.

But every attempt falls short. Everything one does eventually leads back to that hollow feeling of before, that empty need for something called happiness. But it is oh, so elusive.

Again, though, what is happiness? Why is it so hard to come by when we try and try and try, putting forth our best efforts, to get it? And this is the lesson we learn from children.

Unless circumstances force them to grow up to fast, children are the absolute personification of happiness. As I said before, happiness shows itself in a joy in the eyes. From the first moments they are born, infants eyes are lit with this amazing beauty, this ethereal quality that is astounding. Ever day that I look at my little six-year-old brother, I see this same sort of brilliance in those beautiful eyes. I don’t even really know how to describe it. This was also something I found amazing about the children I saw in the
Dominican Republic.

These children didn’t have wealth, or power, or any of those things we think will bring us happiness. But their eyes shone with this amazing joy, sparkling with some spirit I could never explain. I don’t know if they were really beautiful, but I thought they were. I was enchanted by their shining eyes, their constant smiles, their hospitality to strangers, their curiosity, all in a place that is far poorer than anywhere in this
United States of America.

Perhaps joy is unachievable. I don’t think it is. Maybe joy is just found in the simplest of things instead of the great complex endeavors of those out to conquer the world. I hve found more joy in a tiny town full of elderly people in a quiet setting than I have ever in the greatness and grandeur of all our cities combined. I have found more happiness in children living in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to play with save dead trees and long grass, than I have in all the hundreds of thousands of kids with TVs and video games. I have seen for myself, and gloried in the tiniest things, because, in the end, they are the most beautiful.

Nothing fills me with more peace and happiness than an early foggy morning, when the air is still cool and the dim outline of the sun is just beginning to show through. I have found more excitement in a small-town exhibition of fireworks on the Fourth than I have in years of watching the huge and fiery displays of Harrah’s casino. That’s because nothing, not even in the greatest grandeur, could compare to those quiet moments of a soul drinking deep of perfect harmony with a God that hides in those times. And, inevitably, that’s because it’s how we were created to be.

-Syshra

I would highly reccommend reading the DR days 1 and 2 first otherwise you’ll be confused :P 

Second day went much the same, only, of course, a little smoother as we settled in. We had three different VBS groups with a story, skit, craft, etc. Since mine was day two, we performed stunningly the story of Zacheus or Zacceo to the kids J People were already getting sick though. The day before a girl had; she was one of few who had been here before. It was kinda weird.

So the third day of VBS rolled around, and I broke down. I broke down completely. I mean, we hadn’t been there that long, but it seemed like forever. I was tired, feeling completely alienated from the group, and I felt really, really alone. I wanted, so badly, to just be home with my family and friends. I went through VBS, but we had a siesta time every afternoon and during that I completely broke down crying.

Deb, one of our leaders, found me while everyone else was eating. I told her how I felt alone and useless and she talked with me. Eventually I calmed down enough to eat some food really quick and be ready to go for the church service that night. That was a truly interesting night, one of many significant times that made this trip what it was.

For our last night in Los Niches we were going to show a Jesus video in lieu of a preaching service. Oddly enough, our projector just happened to freak out and die. Literally. Half the screen went funny-colored and then it was just weird. So, yeah, no movie tonight.

I don’t remember exactly what we did. I know Pastor Orlando stood up and spoke a bit about how God always has a reason for what he either does or doesn’t do. I, admittedly, was thinking of how convenient it was for God that He didn’t fix the projector. So we sang some songs and my attention was diverted from the disaster by the little kids all around me.

Several of them had picked me as their ‘buddy’, a few giving each other rather evil glares for a seat next to me until I noticed and fix it by kinda positioning them around me in a ring. It worked (I think). So we sat and listened and (since I didn’t really know what was going to happen) we kinda played a little bit while we waited. Then we got up and sang some songs and just held this little impromptu little service.

Now I, personally, was still looking around at the kids. Without doubt, these are beautiful children. They all have these absolutely gorgeous dark eyes that are always shining so brilliantly with life and joy. It’s a really amazing thing to see. I loved these kids, and I didn’t want to leave Los Niches how it was; I wanted these kids to know exactly how much they had meant to us and how much God loved them and how beautiful they truly were.

Now, before he dismisses the church, Pastor Orlando counts to three and we all cry “Gloria a Dios” Glory to God, then church is dismissed. So he was telling everyone to get ready for that and I knew I almost missed my chance here. So I stood up and tapped him on the arm and asked if I could say something. He kinda looked at me for a second, then nodded and moved aside, telling everyone in Spanish that I had something to say.

I still don’t know what I said. I hope it made sense and touched someone there, but I wasn’t speaking anymore. Because the second I stood up, the Holy Spirit just took hold and gave me words. I could feel His presence and everyone else did too. I was crying by the end of it because I wanted these children to know they were an amazing, unique blessing to the world and each one of us. Many of the other girls and
Orlando’s wife Diones were crying too and they all thanked me for telling these kids what they had all wanted to this whole time. I told them all it wasn’t me and they said they knew; they could feel it too.

We went home that night sad because we already missed Los Niches and the experiences we’d had and people we’d met there, but we were also happy because we felt we had done well. We were triumphant.

But we weren’t done in Los Niches yet. The next day we went to the school there and performed one of our human videos (a really amazing one). Then we did a craft (for over a hundred kids we almost ran out), and played a game. Then we headed back to pastor
Orlando’s and I broke down again. Yeah, even though we were doing amazing and all this cool stuff was happening right in front of us, I still felt terribly alone, especially now that I had felt, very clearly, the presence of God.

One thing you have to understand about the DR and
America: the air itself is different. Here in the
US you don’t really feel anything special everywhere you go, but in the DR it’s painfully obvious whether you’re alone or with God. And, seriously, it’s a feeling in the air. I still don’t know why this is, but it’s completely different down there.

This time, it was Julie, a different leader, who found me. Again, we had a talk, and I was ready to go by that night. We held a church service in Dajabon and went home and slept.