One of our cultural awareness assignments for this weekend was to find 3 people who had moved to the states from another country, have an in-depth conversation with them and write a reflection paper on what we found out. I must admit, this is not one of my favorite assignments. I’ve came a long way from the girl who had to have her older sister do all the talking for her, but not THAT far. As my classmates went their separate ways for the weekend in search of their subjects, I was getting sick just thinking about it. Finally, I made myself get in the car and travel to the nearest town where I had seen a Mexican Restaurant. I never go inside a restaurant to eat alone, so this in itself was a challenge. I finally get up the nerve to go in, ask for a booth and take my seat.
My mind was racing to think of a conversation starter. After a couple of visits from my waiter, I asked him in Spanish if he knew where a Spanish speaking church is in this area. He smiled and asked how I knew Spanish and so I was able to proceed with finding out a little about him. Each trip he made to my table, I would ask a little bit more. I found out his name is Jose, from Vera Cruz Mexico. He lived in Tennessee for four years before moving to North Carolina. His family is still in Mexico and he misses them terribly as well as the friendly people of his home country. He loves his job and the money that he makes here.
Now that is as far as I got, because apparently a single girl, dining alone, practicing her ‘listening skills’ and being too interested in the personal life of her waiter, can come across as hitting on him. So I realized when he handed me a paper and asked for my address that the interview was over.
I left the restaurant feeling defeated, but then I remembered that I had the address of the Spanish speaking church Jose had given me. Maybe I could meet someone there to interview. If not, at least I could worship in Spanish tonight. It started at 7pm, so I had just enough time to get there. I put the address in my GPS and headed out. After many twists and turns, the GPS said that I had reached my destination…the middle of an intersection. There was no church in sight. I went each direction looking for the church and found nothing.
I headed back in the direction that I thought would get me back to the main road and somehow ended up heading out in the country. I was whining to God about this assignment that I didn’t want to do, the fact that I didn’t even get to go to church and asking Him to help me find my way back. I pulled over to turn around and head back the other way, when suddenly I saw a sign that said Baptist Church in Spanish. It wasn’t the one I was looking for, but I thought I should check it out anyway. As I started down the gravel road that quickly turned to a mountainous trail, I once again thought I was lost. I had no choice but to keep going up the narrow, steep trail to find a place to turn around. Then, in the middle of the woods, there was a log cabin with a church sign pointing to it. There were no cars in sight. As I began to turn around, a man came out to talk to me. I explained I was lost and he proceeded to tell me about their Hispanic ministry they had started in the little log cabin behind their log cabin. He introduced me to his wife and son and invited me inside. They were fascinating people, who were missionaries in Mexico for 15 years and now are serving here in the states. As I sat in their living room for a few hours listening to their life stories, I felt blessed. I chuckled inside thinking that I thought I was so afraid of speaking to a stranger, yet here I sat in the cabin of strangers, who suddenly felt like friends. They’ve invited me back for church in the morning, and I'm looking forward to it.
The assignment that had me whining to God, lost in the mountains and almost in tears…ended up a blessing! I can't help but think God knew where I was going all along.
