When Mexico Hurls You Into a Pit of Lions...

You know, when I knew we were coming to Mexico I assumed that I would be met with culture shock of some kind. I thought I might do or say a few "silly gringa" things here and there...you know, like realizing two weeks into my stay that instead of saying "I'm excited" I've been saying, "I'm turned on" the whole time...to my horror that NOBODY had corrected me. I expected to make a few of these innocent language hiccups that got me a few mocking laughs here and there. I really didn't think I'd be hit hard with any real soul shifting culture clashes...I mean, I'm an International Studies major, right? Riggght....

It was our first Sunday at the church, and I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy in my new Mexican community. I sang in joyful ignorance to the Spanish worship songs, gave myself a headache from not blinking throughout the entirety of the pastor's moderately incomprehensible sermon, and introduced myself with the rest of our little team in front of the congregation. To my pleasant surprise, two teenage girls from the youth group approached Lindsey and I following the sermon, and asked us if we would like to accompany them the next day to one of the more impoverished areas on the outskirts of town to go hang out with the children of a couple families. We said yes of course, and were so excited (not to be confused with turned on) to go with them. I was beginning to feel so comfortable here…I suppose I forgot for a moment that Jesus never promised us lives of comfort…

So the next day Linds and I don’t really think too much about the coming event considering we were just asked to accompany these girls the day before. We walked toward our designated meeting place, and were met on the road halfway by the two girls. Without any explanation, we head in the opposite direction, and head to a nice house we had never seen before. Mildly confused, but already well-acquainted and unphased by the sensation at this point, we absent-mindedly waltzed into the woman’s house. We quickly exchanged the usual formalities, and took a blissfully ignorant seat on her couch. The two other girls sat caddy corner to Linds and I on another couch, and the woman, Barbara, began to speak rapidly to them in Spanish. I desperately tried to decipher the details of the conversation, as I was already confused enough as to why we were in this woman’s nice house instead of on our way to the rancho. Barbara began to look a tad disgruntled as she spoke directly at the girls, and I could only make out the phrases “No Bibles,” “No prepared,” and “Lets go then, the children are waiting.” This conversation goes down without one word spoken to Lindsey or myself, so we just continue to do our best to not get in their way and play our well-rehearsed role of the ignorant foreign girls.

As we get up to leave, the three phrases I did manage to decode began to sink in, and I felt a very uneasy feeling in my stomach. As we load into the car I ask Barbara in the best Spanish I could muster, “Barbara, what are Lindsey and I doing today at the rancho?” Barbara looks at us, and pointedly states in Spanish, “You are going to teach the lessons to the children today. The other girls are not prepared, so you will teach them.” At this point my stomach is sinking deeper and deeper into my bowels as I try to envision Lindsey and I planning a Bible lesson in Spanish. I’m trying to stay calm, thinking, ‘ok, I’m sure this place is pretty far, so maybe we will have time to put something mediocre together on the way.’

“Barbara, how long a drive is it to the rancho?” I ask. Barbara waves her arm in the air nonchalantly and says, “Oh not far, like 10-15 minutes.” Can I be quite honest with you all in cyber space that in that moment I am quite certain I have never felt so panicked in all my life. Me, Tarah Anne, NOT prepared, NOT in control of the situation!? It was a swift and crippling blow to my confidence and my sense of self as I know it! Well, I began fighting the urge to have a massive panic attack as we bump and rock down the uneven roads all the way to the rancho (all 10 minutes). First of all, let me start by saying that children terrify my. I don’t speak child, and I never have I don’t think. So the notion of teaching a children’s Bible lesson on the fly that would hold their attention struck the fear of God into my shuddering soul. Lindsey and I quickly decide to tell the story of David and Goliath by acting it out, giving away candy as prizes for right answers, and playing a really simple game that involves making pig noises in the other person’s face. I thought to myself the whole way there, “I’m toast.”

Now, I’m a little embarrassed to say that everything went perfectly smoothly, and that I completely overacted. But if I didn’t tell you how outlandishly stressed I was, then I wouldn’t be being honest with you all. There were five children there, and they laughed and smiled their way through the whole story. It even held significance for them when they described different times in their life when they felt as small as David up against a big, strong Goliath. It was actually one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, watching those kids internalize ancient scripture in a very real and tangible way. All through a 10 minute, propless and lesson planless act performed by two English speaking gringas and a teenager who (thank God) did her best to translate. We led the class again today, and our little group of 5 became 20. Next week Barbara predicts twice as many as the kids begin to tell their friends throughout the streets of the women who bring stories and sweets. Glory be to God. He works wonders regardless of whether we are prepared, or even speak the same language. The children responded to the story of Jesus walking on water today, and I realized that his message transcends any of my lesson plans or my painful inadequacies of their language; because the language I speak is a language of love, and I’m pretty sure they understood everything I said.

So while I’m learning that the Mexican way is to simply throw yourself into things rather than over analyze, over prepare, and over stress is both petrifying and purifying. It strips me of the control issues I hold dear to my heart, and bears me open and raw to the world, when literally all I can offer is love. Oh Mexico, the things you do for my soul. A DIOS.