pressing in

About a week ago I made the decision to go to the bilingual service being held at my church tonight.  Up until that point I had definitely planned to have some other extremely pressing thing to do on Sunday the seventeenth at six o’clock in the evening.

And then I remembered my decision to press into situations that are uncomfortable.

I wonder if those precious people will know I am afraid. Or will they think I am a snob? Perhaps they will believe that I think I am better than them.  Will they think I don’t want them here, where I have been able to easily communicate with those around me for years? Will they believe they don’t belong because people like me won’t talk to them?  

Perhaps… But I sure hope not.

In the past to solve this heart problem I would simply avoid the situation.  Don’t show up because it is scary.  But then, what happens when they come to our morning service next week, when we have translators set-up to convey the sermon?  Would it be time for me to find a new church? Avoid forever?

If I am going to press in,  I must purposely step into uncomfortable situations and do what I don’t want to do.

But how will I communicate?  

One would think that after spending my high school years learning the language, I could speak a little Spanish.  But hey… Give me a verb and I can conjugate the heck out of it!  That doesn’t mean I know what it means or how to use that word to communicate.  Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure there won’t be any dogs or cats there to talk about.  Perhaps I could ask for some water or where the bathroom is located.

Oh wait… I’m not the newcomer.
I’ll have to rethink that one.

Hola will be safe.  I CAN say hello and I can say my name. At least I think I can… Me llamo. Mi nombre. Soy. WHICH IS IT??  Holy Cow! Why is it so complicated?

Hmmm…
there, their, they’re
by, buy, bye
two, too, to
mail, male

How difficult and courageous it is for these folks taking the english class offered by our church as a neighborhood outreach.  How very courageous they are to come into the neighborhood English-speaking church on Sunday morning rather than drive somewhere for a Spanish only service.  So very courageous!

I will go.
I will smile.
I will extend my hand or offer a hug.
I will meet people and possibly not understand their heavily-accented name.

And that’s okay. 

My presence and desire to love without communicating through words will be enough.

I am grateful.

 

 

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