Carmen Arisenia Jaquez, known to her close family and friends as Aris, grew up in the Caribbean country of the Dominican Republic. Nearly three decades later, on a mission trip with Church at the Mill, back to the DR, she realized the kind of light God had been weaving through her story all along—one meant to be carried, spread, and shared.
Born and raised in the Dominican Republic, Aris’ childhood was anchored in deep faith and traditions passed down from generations of believers. Her great-grandfather, a Spanish missionary, planted the spiritual roots for their family. He lived on a mountaintop with no electricity, relying on lanterns and candles, and filling each night with Scripture, hymns, and preaching at the church that he planted right there in the DR, in a tiny town called Cabrera. Faith and worship were the center of their lives.
Aris was the youngest of five—also the only girl—and her brothers took on a fatherly role after her parents divorced when she was eight. They guided her, protected her, and helped shape her in the absence of her father, who at the time was not following the Lord. They were not just siblings; they were her community.
Two of her brothers eventually became pastors—the oldest in New Jersey, and the youngest, Dionnis, in the Dominican Republic. From childhood, everyone knew Dionnis was marked by something special. “He never got a ‘B,’” Aris remembers with a smile. “He was so good, I used to call him ‘mini Jesus.’” He lived with a Godly conviction and gentleness that made others take notice.
Aris, meanwhile, found her own ministry in worship. She grew up singing in church, believing that worship and missions were two expressions of the same calling: pointing people to Jesus. “When people walk into church, they see you worship first,” she said. “It’s another way of carrying the light.”
A New World
At 17, Aris’ life shifted dramatically. Her mother decided they needed to move to the United States, and Aris was required to follow her mother. “I didn’t want to be here at all,” she said. “Everything I loved was back home—my brothers, my friends, my church, my community.”
The transition was difficult—emotionally, spiritually, culturally. For the first time since childhood, she felt alone. The church her mother joined in the U.S. was legalistic and rigid, nothing like the Biblical truth she was used to. Without her brothers’ constant encouragement and accountability, her faith wavered, and she felt as if God had forgotten her.
Meanwhile, her youngest brother, Dionnis, continued pursuing ministry. As she watched her brother thrive in ministry, she never fully understood why he felt called to stay and serve in the Dominican Republic. She had begun building a life in the U.S. She found a church where she could lead worship, a small community of friends, a good job, and a home. She saw the benefits of living in the United States, a safer and more prosperous place. What could possibly drive him to stay?
Returning
In September 2025, she finally understood.
Through Compassion International and Church at The Mill, Aris had the opportunity to join the mission team traveling to the DR. She had sponsored a child through Compassion International and was thrilled at the thought of meeting him. But she also felt God pulling her toward something deeper—to love and serve her people, the ones she understood better than most.
She knew the hardships of her country: the broken homes, the absence of protection for vulnerable children, the lack of resources. She had grown up seeing kids arrive at school without breakfast, money, and sometimes without shoes. She shared what she had—her lunch, her time—but as a child, poverty hadn’t shocked her as it did outsiders. It was simply something normal she encountered every day.
But there were parts of her country she had never seen. Streets and homes she wasn’t allowed to enter. Neighborhoods you passed by, but never through.
On the mission trip, she walked straight into those very places.
“The level of poverty…” she paused, tearful during the interview. “It felt like my heart was tearing out of my chest. I hurt so deeply for them. Those children literally could have been me. If my mother had made one single decision differently, that would have been me.”
One home had 10 children in a single room—dirt floor, a thin curtain as a door, scraps of fabric serving as bedding. Another mother worked long hours cleaning houses, then sold homemade desserts on the street with her children because leaving them alone wasn’t safe. Children dressed in their very best outfits to welcome the mission team into homes made of cinderblock, with rusted tin roofs and furniture fashioned from whatever materials could be found.
“They were so proud,” Aris said. “So joyful. They smiled from deep down, because they were loved, and wanted to love us back.”
Everything she saw—the hunger, the danger, the vulnerability—broke her heart. And suddenly, her brother’s calling made perfect sense. “I understood him in a way I never had before,” she said. “These people need Jesus, and they need healthy, gospel-centered, truth-filled churches. They need the light.”
Carrying the Light
The highlight of the trip came on the day Aris finally met her sponsored child, a shy young boy who arrived holding his mother’s hand. She had prayed for him, supported him, written letters—but nothing compares to hearing a child’s voice, looking into his eyes, and fully knowing his reality.
After a full day together at a local water park, Aris, her Compassion child, his tutor, and mother began saying their goodbyes. Sensing that he was withdrawing emotionally, she leaned down and whispered, “Don’t forget to pray every day. Read your Bible. God will guide you.”
He looked down at the ground, embarrassed. Something tugged at her spirit.
“Do you know the Lord?” she asked gently.
Still looking down, he whispered, “No.”
Aris felt the Holy Spirit nudge her again. “Look at me in the eyes,” she said softly. When he lifted his eyes, she asked, “Do you want to ask Jesus to be your Savior?”
He nodded.
“Do you want to do it now?”
Another nod.
In that instant, fear washed over her—not fear of the moment, but fear of inadequacy. “I told my friend, who was there helping translate (someone Aris had known from childhood and was able to surprise her and be there to help at this special event), ‘I can’t do this. I don’t know what to say.’” Her friend gently encouraged her that she had all the knowledge she needed and the Holy Spirit to guide her. God met her with strength. Through tears, she prayed with him to accept Jesus as his Savior. His mother was filled with joy and gratitude—she had already accepted Christ and had prayed for this moment, unsure if her son would ever be ready.
“When he finished praying, he looked up at me and smiled,” she said. “Truly smiled. For the first time, he wasn’t hiding. He was my brother in Christ.”
It was her first time leading someone to Jesus. She had prayed her entire life to have that opportunity, and God saved it for the little boy from the Dominican Republic she had been sponsoring from afar.
Renewed Calling
Coming home to the U.S., Aris no longer saw missions as something just for “other people;” it had become personal, urgent, alive.
“I think more about those in need,” she said. “Especially back in the DR. I pray for them. I pray for more mission opportunities. I even pray for a job that aligns with growing the Kingdom. I realized I may be the only image of God someone sees, and my life needs to reflect His. The light isn’t mine—it’s His. I just carry it.”
The trip exposed something else: “God showed me I need to trust Him more,” she said. “Obedience blesses the one who obeys, not just the one being served.”
Her Mission Now
To anyone unsure of their place in global missions, Aris says, “Just go once. Don’t overthink it. It’s a privilege to be the hands and feet of Jesus.”
“Resources alone don’t spread the light,” she said. “We must live intentionally to love God and love others.”
She points to Matthew 5:14-16 and Ephesians 5:1, 8-10 as Scriptures that now shape her mission. Walking in love, walking in light—that is how the world sees Jesus.
Her life, she says, is a story full of highs and lows, brokenness and healing, darkness and redemption. But through it all, the seed of faith planted in her as a child has grown into something she can no longer keep to herself.
“God’s plan is better and perfect,” she said. “And now that I know the sweetness of being known and loved by Him, I want everyone else to know it too.”
Aris carries that light—spread from her great-grandfather to her grandfather, skipped over her father, passed to her brothers, and now burning brightly in her.
A light strong enough to shine all the way from the Dominican Republic into the heart of one little boy—and into the world.
