I want to learn Spanish again. When I was a little girl, I used to dream in Spanish. Speaking another language was easy. But, I forgot.
Six weeks ago I decided I wanted to relearn it. It was a thought that kept softly pricking my mind. So I finally downloaded an app and started listening to Audible stories in Spanish. I practice about 10 minutes a day; I'm on a 21 day streak but have only missed once or twice in a row. Celine Dion's It's all coming back to me now plays in my head when I think of what I've studied so far. Is that song in your head now?
Last Thursday at an elementary school, I met a nine year old girl and she cried and cried in my office for 90 minutes because she moved here from another country and doesn't speak a lick of English. She's had some significant trauma in her life, and then uprooted. "It's the food, the people, the country, the language... I don't have friends, I lost my grandma, I just want to go home." That's the gist of what I got from her. We spent time trying to understand each other and it was a bit comical at times. Today at the school we found a suicide note from her that was pretty concerning. I've never done a suicide assessment on a 9 year old, and in Spanish for that. I had the translation help of a friend I met, which was great. We spent a chunk of the day together, including making friendship bracelets with the colors of her country flag, talking about how stress and trauma affect our bodies, and practicing how to take care of our emotional health. I convinced our administration to change her teacher to a female, and in a classroom with another student I know well (who speaks fluent Spanish and watched her dad die, so she understands trauma- and hope). By the end of the day, she was smiling, though she did tell me, "Este sonrisa es raro!" (this smile is strange!). Poor thing.
This whole experience was a bit of a tender mercy, or a reminder of a God that knows what's up ahead, and what we may need to help someone, even if it's just one person or just one time.
This is how I know God lives- the timing of things that happen in life.
Like last fall when I signed up for a conference. I thought I registered for the virtual one, but low and behold it was in person, so I scrambled to SLC so I didn't waste the registration money or the chance for CEUs. It was there I ran into Bryant, someone I had known for a long time who's an administrator for the local mental health authority in Utah County. In passing I said hi, then called him back and asked if his team was hiring. I didn't actually know why I even said it, but there it was. He by chance had an opening, and emailed me about it encouraging me to apply. I interviewed the next week, was offered it the next day, and started two weeks later. Three months into it, I'm making about $12K more a year than the job I left, which is interesting because I left an administrator job for a front-line worker, but they were willing to bump up my pay significantly. That's God.
Two weeks after that, Tim stopped working because of his neck and back. He has really rough days, which is what 20+ years of running heavy duty machinery does. But- we've been lead to next steps in healthcare and he's home with the kids (which is literally a working mom's dream). He's spending more time with them than maybe he ever has, which is good for their relationships. He's getting to know the neighborhood friends and all the crazy times our girls have with them, which is also really fun. He "gets to" take them to the dentist and karate and all the other stuff, which is a relief to me. We have enough money to meet our needs and pay the bills. That's God.
I've been worried about Tim's faith in God. It's hard to see the big picture when you're in pain, and when answers take a long time to come. I've been worried about him in a lot of ways and I have prayed every day that he feels needed, loved, and that we will recognize one day why it all happened in the ways it has. I've prayed he doesn't lose his faith, and I've told him (thanks to President Holland) that faith that's not in crisis isn't really faith at all- if life were easy, where's the faith? Last Sunday in church he got up to bear his testimony; it took him so long to walk up there because when he sits for a long time (this time almost an hour on a hard bench) I thought he might collapse at the pulpit. :) But he didn't. He bore his testimony of the love of Christ, even when it's hard to see, and the goodness of people. He's a keeper- and that's how God works.
God shows up in lots of ways. Recognizing His hand in the details of all of our lives is how faith is built. It helps me trust that things work out in the ways they need to. It helps me remember to take care of one another, because God shows up in each of us too.
Comments
Post a Comment