Found in Translation (37 page)

The sudden quiet interrupted my reflections. Charlie’s and Rob’s eyes were closed. Everyone else’s, too. Why had I let my thoughts drift when I should have been paying attention? Two weeks hadn’t been long enough to outgrow my irresponsibility and carelessness entirely.

But before I could think more about my immaturity, one lone voice broke into song. Then a second voice and a third. Soon we were all singing “Wherever There Is Need.” We joined hands and formed a circle that would have appeared hilariously ragged if seen from above.

But Someone was watching from above, and I couldn’t picture God laughing at its convoluted shape. He was more apt to be smiling at its unbrokenness.

Tears streamed down my face, burning my eyes, but I refused to break the circle to blot them. I wanted this bond to last until our buses arrived at the airport and we departed for our individual destinations. Every mountaintop high was different, and we’d probably never experience anything identical to this until heaven—not even if we held the reunion someone had suggested two weeks earlier.

Noticing the interspersion—now there was a Neil word—of the villagers among the team members, I fretted about the spiritual gap that still separated us. Although this physical chain of hands and emotional chain of hearts included theirs, each villager was—at the same time—a missing spiritual link.

Lord, I know You’ve blessed my scripture reading. But how?

If I hadn’t been so caught up in this time of close communion with my new brothers and sisters, I might have resented God’s refusal to answer my question. How many more times would I have to ask before it would be too late to find out?

My concerns disappeared for the moment after several repetitions of “Wherever There Is Need.” I thought I was in heaven when someone started “Joyful, Joyful” and I visualized this whole group surrounding the throne of God and singing His praises in person.

I glanced to my left when Neil—I hadn’t noticed him—lifted my arm parallel to the ground and draped it over Anjelita’s shoulder. She folded her arm and took my hand in hers.

Her hand and fingers felt tougher, stronger than they had two weeks ago. I wondered if they’d ever be soft again. Perhaps that kind of hardening symbolized growth into adulthood. Very much like the solidifying of my commitment to God and my determination to be His servant anyway He chose.

Neil moved to Rosa’s left. She took his hand and put her right hand on Anjelita’s shoulder, clasping our hands tightly. The circle had been broken for mere seconds. Yet it still felt incomplete.

Kim, don’t fret. You did what I asked you to do. You planted seeds. Don’t you trust Me to harvest My fields the way I deem best?

I nodded as if responding to an audible voice.
I trust You, Lord, but I still want to see the results ….

If the villagers ever “made a joyful noise,” they did it that day. Each one seemed to apply his own words to Beethoven’s triumphant tune from the Ninth Symphony. I doubted that the villagers were expressing love and appreciation to God, though. They were more apt to be singing praises to us.

I hoped we’d been good—no, not just good, but effective—ambassadors for God.

Anjelita sang, too. I didn’t pay attention to her singing at first, but she got louder on every repetition. Then I recognized her words.

I’d read her some additional Bible verses the previous afternoon after finishing Luke. While I continued reading for practice, she must have memorized them.

I couldn’t have fit John 3:16 to “Joyful, Joyful” without making it sound awkward and contrived, but she could and she had. She sang as if she thought those words were the most important ones in the world. How I hoped and prayed …

“Porque de tal manera amó Dios al mundo, que ha dado á su Hijo unigénito, para que todo aquel que en él cree, no se pierda, mas tenga vida eterna.”

Yes, she sang as if that verse meant the world to her. Was this God’s way of answering my faithless concerns?

T
he next hour was a blur.

Although the buses were forty-five minutes late, the drivers started loading our suitcases within minutes of their arrival. Cheers arose from the first team members who ran from bus to bus to bus to confirm that each one contained the tiny facilities we longed for after two weeks without. But a number of us chose to return to the far side of the fields one last time rather than compete for the bus facilities.

Walking through the deserted campsite gave me a feeling of empty finality nothing had prepared me for. I’d be gone—we’d all be gone—in a few minutes, and that was it.

What had taken Rob two and three-quarter hours to drive after I broke my arm might take these professional drivers a full four hours or more. But at least the semi that led the parade of buses into the village and the smaller truck that contained fresh-off-the-farm-smelling livestock had probably smoothed the ruts even more.

The villagers would have to spend much of the day helping unload and store or distribute the supplies the semi brought. Maybe a day of physical activity would keep them from dwelling on our absence. I hoped they’d let Anjelita and the other kids help, too. They were hard workers.

I giggled at the thought of the children’s reaction to the goats and chickens. If these children were typical, they’d soon make pets of them while the adults viewed them as either a long-lasting source of milk and eggs or a short-lived source of meat and poultry. I wouldn’t want to be around when the adults had to calm their children after butchering and eating one of their pets.

Then again, maybe the animals just needed the friendship of a miraculous, web-weaving Mexican spider—what would her name be? Carlotta?—that would save their lives by weaving a message in the web above their pen: S
TUPENDOUS
ANIMALS.
D
O NOT EAT.

I’d overheard someone say that the villagers were going to store seeds, tools, and other supplies in the church building. They may not have thought of the old building as a church, but I still hoped it wasn’t true.

Please, Lord, don’t let them use Passover Church as a barn for the animals.

Then I sensed that still, small voice saying,
Mary gave birth to My baby boy in a stable. If the villagers want to use My future house as a stable or a storage shed, I don’t have any problems with it.

He was right, of course. The church hadn’t become a place of worship. I’d expected miracles—I’d hoped and prayed for them—but Jesus didn’t do miracles on demand, not even during His so-called trial when a miracle might have saved His earthly life. I reluctantly admitted I wouldn’t want one unless it was God’s will.

I’d been prayerfully considering what one last thing I could do for Rosa and Anjelita—for the whole village, really. The answer was obvious. Taking my Spanish-only Bible home again wouldn’t benefit anyone, but leaving it in Santa María might have eternal significance.

Rosa, Anjelita, and I sat on the plywood floor inside their cottage while the drivers, Rob, and Charlie finished loading the buses. When I asked Rob and Charlie to be patient if I boarded last, they stared at me, struggling to keep a straight face. They couldn’t keep their eyes from twinkling, though.

They gave up trying to contain their laughter when I promised not to be more than three hours late getting on the bus, and they cracked up big-time when I told them what to do if they got tired of waiting.

“Guys, you have my permission to pick me up bodily and shove me headfirst into my seat without any pretense of patience or dignity. As long as you promise not to fight over the privilege, that is.”

If Anjelita had still been acting the way she did last night, they might have needed to do that. Fortunately, her extra-long night’s sleep seemed to restore her sense of reason. Or maybe it just helped her to accept the inevitable without freaking out.

Rosa stared at the Santa Biblia on my lap. If the look of reverence and longing on her face was any indication, she didn’t have any idea why I’d brought it with me. I’d planned to wait until the last minute to present it to her. Maybe it would help distract Anjelita when I made my getaway.

Sunlight coming through the open door made Anjelita’s necklace shine more brilliantly than ever. I wondered if she’d polished it with some type of plant juice. She held the prism up to the sun every couple of minutes and projected a rainbow on my cast. We smiled at one another as if we weren’t both bawling our eyes out on the inside.

She started fidgeting like someone who’s struggling over a decision. I’d forgotten that even little kids sometimes face adult-sized issues. I couldn’t imagine what was on her mind, though.

But she’d already made her decision, and I never would have dreamed how important it was. She, too, had a gift. She took off the necklace and kissed it as if saying good-bye to it. She looked at it and put it to her mouth again. Her lips moved slightly. She appeared to be whispering a secret to her most prized possession.

Then she put it over my head and let it fall around my neck.

She smiled the sweetest smile while waiting for my reaction, but I was too shocked to respond appropriately. Misreading my look—it must have been one of muddled confusion—Anjelita’s smile faded and her mood darkened visibly.

Could Anjelita be having second thoughts about giving her precious necklace to a big sister she’s known only a couple of weeks? Or changing her mind about doing it without her mother’s permission?

With the best of intentions, I took it off and put it back on Anjelita. She buried her face in her mom’s shoulder and sobbed as pathetically as if she were in intense pain. Apparently I’d done the wrong thing, but what would make things right again?

Voices outside called my name. Time was up. The bus was waiting, and I had to do something—the right something—within the next few seconds.

Afraid I’d forget to present my gift to Rosa when I rushed out, I placed the Bible on her lap. It seemed to shock her as much as Anjelita’s present had shocked me. She picked the Santa Biblia up, looked at it adoringly, and caressed it as if it were covered with fine leather and not paper.

But then she put it back on my lap. The tears in her eyes told me how much that Bible meant to her and how much she wanted to accept it, but that didn’t calm the sinking feeling in my stomach.

That’s when I understood how I’d made Anjelita feel and how to correct my mistake.

I touched Anjelita’s shoulder to get her attention—she’d quit crying when she saw me present the Bible to Rosa—and I motioned for her to hand me the necklace. She placed it around my neck, and this time I said, “Muchas gracias” and kissed her face several times.

“Kimmy Hartlinger, we’re coming in to get you ….”

I looked at Rosa. I knew what would happen. What had to happen. She motioned for me to hand her the Bible.

I did so with tears of joy.

This time she kissed it and clung to it like a drowning woman hanging on to a piece of boat wreckage. I jumped up from the floor—I’d improved at doing that—and boarded the bus before Anjelita noticed me walk out. Her eyes were on her mother’s slightly used Santa Biblia.

I looked back from the door of the bus and heard her voice, weakened by so much early morning singing, “Señorita Kim,
te amo.”
She repeated it many times. I was almost positive it meant “Miss Kim, I love you.” What else would it have meant?

I responded only once. “Te amo, Anjelita. Te amo, Rosa.” Then I broke down completely.

I
was silent as the journey began. Everyone was. Although fatigue and soft, comfortable seats had already put many of the team to sleep, I was lost in my own little world, barely conscious of my surroundings.

With Aleesha in the aisle seat and Neil beside the window, I felt like a thin-cut slice of deli turkey between two mismatched pieces of bread—one wheat, one white. The three of us fit comfortably in the two-seat row.

Maybe Aleesha was right about Neil and me being skinny. Although the temperature inside the bus was already comfortable, our driver cranked the AC down past frigid. Maybe he was trying to punish us for making him drive through the darkest part of the night to reach the ends of the earth. But at least he wasn’t the lead driver we’d had on the drive to Santa María.

My ears and nose got cold first. Although the grungy travel slacks covered my legs, the hole in the knee allowed a cold draft to streak all the way to my feet. I had more goose bumps on my arms than other people had freckles. Neil, Aleesha, and I scooted close enough together to warm our arms some. I was thankful to be the meat in the middle.

Neil still hadn’t invaded my mental space with his confession. I was glad. I couldn’t deal with it yet. Too many other things were on my mind.

Not even my vivid memories of the recent gift exchange could keep me awake long, though. The last thing I remembered before dropping off was Aleesha examining my new jewelry and saying “Cool!” Not once, but twice. I didn’t realize she’d never seen it up close.

Although I slept less than an hour, my nap was refreshing. Other team members were waking up, too, and I heard the slight buzz of conversations here and there.

I turned to my left. Neil was looking at me. At least he didn’t have that sick puppy dog look of a guy who’s falling for a girl. I would have hated deflating such a sweet sixteen-year-old boy’s ego, especially since age and social immaturity were his only real shortcomings. Plus his small frame.

He’d outgrow the first two. Only time would tell if he could outgrow his scrawniness.

Ah, but he already had a girlfriend back home. And I’d worked so hard to assure him our age difference wasn’t important.

The dizzy, whirling effect of those thoughts made me giggle once. Socially immature? As punchy as I was at the moment, maybe I was describing myself. I giggled again.

“If you’re sufficiently awake, Kimmy, may we converse now?”

After the day’s emotional free fall, our talk could only lighten the journey. Neil seemed a bit braver about addressing me now.