"They told me to come down here but I don't know why", the small brown woman said while standing at the bottom of the stairs in the Children's Building at church. I recognized that look in her brown eyes. The look that said...I understood the directions but don't understand why exactly...
Of course, being American and being a member of the church, I KNEW why we were waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Every month that has a 5th Sunday in it, parents pick their kids up and take them to big church instead of leaving them for children's church. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was a sure fire way not to miss them because they sound like elephants when they get out of Sunday School.
Me, being both the cultural and church-ural (is that a word?) insider, felt empathy for the small grandmother. Because you see... I have been in her shoes. I knew not to go into the details. I knew to look her in the eye and say with slow, gentle words "just wait here, you will meet your grandson in a few minutes". And then I waited with her. She was reunited with her grandson and I walked away.
Again, later in the week, I was shopping with my mom. The girl at the check out counter was South Asian. I use that same slow English with her and she perked up . My mom said in the car afterwards "when you change your speech like that...they understand you"? And I said "I changed my speech"? And she said "yes". I guess I just instinctively do it.
In so many ways I am thankful for the way the Lord has changed me. I hope that I always notice small brown women waiting at the bottom of stairs. I hope that I always change the pattern of my voice so that the check out girl understands. I hope that I can always be a vessel of His grace.
Of course, being American and being a member of the church, I KNEW why we were waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Every month that has a 5th Sunday in it, parents pick their kids up and take them to big church instead of leaving them for children's church. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was a sure fire way not to miss them because they sound like elephants when they get out of Sunday School.
Me, being both the cultural and church-ural (is that a word?) insider, felt empathy for the small grandmother. Because you see... I have been in her shoes. I knew not to go into the details. I knew to look her in the eye and say with slow, gentle words "just wait here, you will meet your grandson in a few minutes". And then I waited with her. She was reunited with her grandson and I walked away.
Again, later in the week, I was shopping with my mom. The girl at the check out counter was South Asian. I use that same slow English with her and she perked up . My mom said in the car afterwards "when you change your speech like that...they understand you"? And I said "I changed my speech"? And she said "yes". I guess I just instinctively do it.
In so many ways I am thankful for the way the Lord has changed me. I hope that I always notice small brown women waiting at the bottom of stairs. I hope that I always change the pattern of my voice so that the check out girl understands. I hope that I can always be a vessel of His grace.
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