During our trip, I knew that I would be making incredible personal records in steps-counted, elevation climbed, increased cardio and heart rates, but all that was for naught when your smartwatch fails to charge halfway through the trek. I was forced to surrender control and to take to heart the wisdom of a trekking guide who was 27 years my junior who said that sometimes less is more when it comes to packing. I learned to accept with grace events such as our designated map reader/navigator making a wrong turn AGAIN resulting in a VERY challenging unplanned nearly vertical rock climb, or the extreme rationing of toilet paper and hand sanitizer among 13 teens and adult volunteers, since we had used too much on the first part of our trek.
FROM THE RECTOR
From the Rector:
September 2025
When Eleanor, Emily and I got out of our Uber and dragged our luggage into the rectory, we breathed a sigh of relief: we were finally home from our trip to the Dominican Republic! But soon Emily realized that she had left her purse in the Uber, and our happy-homecoming was put on hold for a few more hours—luckily our kind and honest driver dropped her purse off at 12:45 am after his shift had ended, despite his initial promise that he’d swing by in about 20–25 minutes—but we are not dwelling people!
When I brought my luggage in, I looked across my office only to see a laundry pile from my previous long journey, which reminded me of the very short 2.5 day turnaround between my return from my backpacking trip with my son James along with St. John’s scout Troop 128 at Philmont Scout Ranch in northeastern New Mexico, and our departure for St. John’s annual service trip to San Gabriel Mission and Collegia in Consuelo, Dominican Republic—a relationship that has been forged over 25 years.
These two trips were transformative. I found within me fortitude and courage that I typically don’t have to muster all that often in my day-to-day routine. Despite being a slightly obsessive packer and planner for every possible catastrophe imaginable, I discovered what I could live without. I also learned that over-packing for said catastrophes, large or small, only means that you’re schlepping even more stuff.
Similar interruptions and surrendering of control were at every corner in the DR. My knowledge of the Spanish language is pretty minimal, and my vocabulary was unhelpfully bridged with long-lost vestiges of high school Latin, college French, and occasionally Koine Greek. Despite being easily susceptible to car sickness–yes, that’s why I’m usually the driver–I went along for the ride and took comfort in a couple daily doses of Dramamine. The strong bonds of friendship and Christian love with San Gabriel are such that I had to get beyond my Midwestern, WASPy instincts of a short, polite “good morning” with a nod of the head or a kindly handshake, in order to be embraced—sometimes planted with peck on the cheek—by folks who not only did I not know their names, but I was challenged consistently to pronounce them. And all sense of pride and self-confidence went out the window when I was asked that first full day at San Gabriel, a Sunday, to serve as Celebrant at that morning’s service… in Spanish!
You might ask, were your trips hard? Did you ever wish that you were back home? Did you miss your dogs or possibly other members of your family? YES! I’d be lying if I said that there wasn’t some point in every day where I thought, it sure would be nice to be home.
And if you were to ask if I would go back, I would also say without reservation: Absolutely.
Yes, I’m recovering from a hyper-extended left ankle from stepping in a prairie dog hole midway through the trek–a sprain that was only exacerbated when I stepped into another hole with my other foot a week later at San Gabriel while scraping exterior paint in 90-degree heat and 85% humidity.
Yes, I am still in shock at some of the meals that were cooked by the scouts and the sodium content of the meals doled out by the commissary or the greenish hue of my eight liters of water and the chlorine tang of the water tablets I used for each supply of that day’s water. But I am grateful for the cool taste of Gatorade on a sweltering afternoon and the incredible carefully and lovingly made meals by the faithful women of San Gabriel.
For these challenges—and these blessings—I am most grateful. Rather than spiraling down into fear, frustration, and longing to be home, those daily reminders of what I missed became opportunities for prayer. Taking the moment to recognize what was bothering me, reminding myself that this is a temporary condition, and that God would see to my care and that the traveling community of people were all in it together.
I hope that you have been doing well this summer; that you have been able to have moments of rest and refreshment. I hope that if you have experienced challenges during this time, that you have been able to tap into a greater sense of faith and assurance that God would help see your way through it and safely “home.” I further pray that in those moments of challenge that your sense of God was near to you, and that friends, loved-ones, colleagues and family members, showed up as God’s ambassadors to help you with your burden.
In Christ’s peace,
The Rev. Josh Walters
Rector
