La Limpieza

"La limpieza" is the worst the best thing to happen to our school. 

Imagine a circus. Imagine a circus full of elementary and middle school aged children. Imagine those children with buckets of water, towels, brooms, mops, and hoses. Imagine all of this happening with very little adult supervision. If you’re imaging what I’m imagining, you have a mental picture that only begins to describe the madness that is our quarterly “Limpieza de la Escuela” or “School Cleaning Day.” Once every few months, all our kids and their families are invited to return to school in the afternoon to help us clean our classrooms. This isn’t just the typical sweep, mop, wipe desks cleaning that the classes get every day when the kids leave. This is a complete “move every piece of furniture outside, scrub every inch of every desk and every wall and every window and every fan and every cabinet, cut the grass and rake the leaves and trim the bushes, scrub every chair in the cafeteria” cleaning. It is a big job.

Our kids love cleaning day because it is basically water-games day. We put just about as much water on the floors, walls, and furniture as we do on the kids. There are no rules, there’s very little supervision in each classroom, and they all leave soaking wet. There is a lot of yelling, slipping, sliding, screaming, and fighting. If you know me at all, you know that (although it involves cleaning) this is basically my worst nightmare. Today, 20 minutes in, I decided that I was done and was ready to head back to my house early. Our school coordinator caught me and asked if I could be in charge of the 2^nd grade classroom. I looked inside and there was no one in there, so I internally decided that I would just clean the whole classroom by myself, my way, and call it a day. I walked in and started scrubbing desks, mumbling under my breath the whole time. No, this was not my proudest missionary moment (or Jesus-follower moment in general).

Then two things happened.

First, God convicted me and said “Kristin, I didn’t ask you to come to Monte Plata so that every day would be full of work that you find valuable, productive, and Kingdom-building. I asked you to come to Monte Plata to be with me, to follow me, and to joyfully engage in what I’m doing here. And today, I’m scrubbing desks.” Then he added “So suck it up and shut up.” This not-so-gentle nudging of the Holy Spirit changed my scowl into a smile as I began praying for the students who sit in each one of those desks and chose to consciously thank Him for an opportunity to serve the least of these in seemingly the least of ways. How often do I miss out on the intended joy of serving because I'm not satisfied with the way in which I'm being asked to serve?

Second, our kids’ families started showing up. It wasn’t just their parents. Their grandmothers, grandfathers, uncles, aunts, big brothers and sisters, and cousins all started flooding into the school. And let me tell you something – these people can CLEAN! A team of over ten grandmothers started working on the chairs in the cafeteria. A group of eight dads, uncles, and big brothers started raking, trimming, and cutting the grass, bushes, and flowers. I think one of my favorite moments of life here in Monte Plata thus far was looking out the window today and seeing one of our first graders and his dad raking leaves together in front of our school playground. Three moms came into the 2^nd grade classroom with me and got to work on the walls, the windows, the cabinets, the floors, the desks, and the shelves. Dozens and dozens of kind-hearted, servant-minded Dominican adults chose to spend their afternoon cleaning and scrubbing with us. Our school is sparkling now. But the fact that we have a clean school is not what has changed the “limpieza” from one of my most dreaded events to one of my most eagerly anticipated.

I love the “limpieza.” I love it because for one day every few months, our students’ families feel like they can come to our school campus with something to offer. For once, they are the experts. For once, they are the leaders. For once, they are able to proudly give instead of humbly receive. 

The mom who can’t read what the chalkboard says can lovingly and thankfully clean it anyway. 

The uncle who can’t count the desks can scrub them until they shine nonetheless. 

The dad who can’t help his third grade son with his homework can work next to him and teach him what it means to lend a helping hand. 

The grandmother who never made it past the first grade can sweep and mop the eighth grade classroom  with a smile on her face and a song on her lips. 

The aunt who hasn’t had a job in a year can work and feel productive outside of her home for the first time in months. 

The families who rely on God (through our school kitchen) to provide the only meals that their children eat each week can come together and joyfully offer a gift of gratitude for all the ways in which the Lord supplies for our needs here. 

"La limpieza" is the worst the best thing to happen to our school. I praise God for changing my selfish, fleshly eyes and ears into vessels through which He shows me more of His great love and His grand plan to redeem a lost and broken humanity.