Speaking Different Languages

For the first 45 minutes, nothing was said ... at least nothing important.  In fact, she communicated mainly by tapping or pointing.  Her name was Linda, and I only knew that because the receptionist had told me.  As with her coworkers "Sam" and "Aaron,"  I feel sure it was her Americanized name -- one that she had chosen to make her life here in the States easier.

 

I had not had a pedicure since before school let out, and with flip flop season about over, my poor feet were far overdue.  And now I sat in the chair with the roll bar massaging my back and Linda massaging my legs while my weary feet found rest in scented scrub and hot towels.  Ahh....  Actually, I think this was the first pedicure I'd ever gotten without a friend in the next chair, so it really was an experiment in relaxation and "stillness."  One that I cherished and counted as "gift." 

 

But I couldn't help but notice the chain around Linda's neck and the gold Buddha hanging thereon; and keenly aware that the person in whom she puts her trust is dead.  And so I prayed.  

 

How does one minister to someone in a situation like this?  I knew I couldn't just open the conversation with, "Do you know Jesus?"  Or at least I found it difficult to do so.  At least with no relationship.  And so I thought to myself, "Well, I can begin by building a relationship."  By now my toes were painted a dazzling Wocka Wock and I was sitting with my hands before her for an even more overdue manicure ... no color.  And so I asked, "Where are you from?"  She looked at me quizzically, thus I rephrased my question thinking it probably did sound a little southern for her Asian descent:  "Where did you grow up?"  Same response.  Very slowly now enunciating every word: "Where ... were ... you ... born?"  Thank goodness I had sense enough not to say it loudly like she was deaf.  Again, just a stare.  So I tried once more.  "You.  Baby?"  Finally, a huge grin came on her face and she said, "Tutrigian."  Now it was MY turn to look confused. I repeated it back and she reiterated.  I said it again: "Tutrigian," trying to make sense of it.  For the life of me, I had never heard of the place.  She must have seen my baffled look, because she then said in an accent I could understand, "One boy, 27; one girl, 19."  It was all I could do not to bust out laughing!  And so I just held up three fingers and said, "I have 3; 2 boys, one girl."  And I left it at that.

 

Lord, have mercy, how does one minister when she can't even communicate with the recipient???  And then I remembered the seed principle.  Like begets like.  If I will just plant a seed of love, or a seed of joy, or a seed of kindness or gentleness or peace -- all seeds of the Holy Spirit, then I can trust Him to multiply His seed in her and bring forth fruit in due time.  

 

For now, I will just pray that another comes along and waters those seeds, and that in due time, she gives herself over to Truth.  Yes, I will ask for Linda again until, hopefully one day, we speak the same language.

 

 

Just an ordinary moment...