Like a Child

I’ve felt like a child a lot recently in Spain. It’s been interesting feeling like I’m reverting back a decade or so of my life. Being in a different country, culture, and learning a new language has slowed my life down; slowed down my speech, communication, ability to build relationships, and the general speed at which I like to go through life. It’s slowed down my pace, but my mind, thoughts, questions, and curiosity are running at normal speed, which for me means my mind is focusing on 10 plus paths of thought independently. I wonder if this is what a child feels like, that their words or ability can’t keep up with their questions or curiosity? I remember when I was little and couldn’t read yet, my brother Caleb told me, “Once you can read you will point out everything and read every sign, it’s the greatest.” I feel the same way here. The other day I found myself walking along the street and similar to what I remember doing as a child, I was mentally pointing things out and translating them into my new language. Street:calle, tree: arbol, lamppost: farola, sky: cielo, sparrow: gorrión, fountain: fuente….and the list continues. Not just with objects but also song lyrics, prayers, and thoughts. It has definitely been a practical lesson in a few of the things I have been learning internally about patience and about simplicity. It has made me think very carefully over every word that comes out of my mouth. What do I need to say? What is mindless chatter? If out of the heart the mouth speaks, what am I choosing to speak about with my few words?

I felt like a child another time this week, a child being reprimanded. My roommate, Robin, and I decided to go on a run in the pouring rain. It was so fun, refreshing, and beautiful, but at the same time not culturally harmonious. We passed by some school children and teenagers and they openly pointed and laughed at us. We joined in because we felt so out of place. As we were nearing the house I began to feel nervousness build; my family here is extremely concerned about their floors and are the opposite of relaxed when it comes to moisture in their house. We reached the door and now the prospect of walking in sopping wet, dripping all over their floor made me feel like a child who wanted to run away after doing something wrong and not face the disappointment of others. We opened the door and as I presumed, my Spanish parents came in shaking their head in awe of how foolish we were. None too please they pointed at us and tapping their heads said, “¿Tu mente, tu mente, donde está tu mente?” “Your mind, your mind, where is your head?” We sat in the bathroom dripping, for a while, feeling terrible. We apologized profusely and afterward our Spanish mom assured us that it was totally not a problem that we should just learn and not do it again.

This made me think of how God relates to us, humans who often are very childish. The gospel is beautiful and I find myself again praising God for the redemption of my soul. When I make a complete mess of things, of my heart, mind, or soul, or when others do, again He comes near, holds my soaking wet body and says “It’s okay, I have something better though, won’t you come with me and jump in a different pool, one of life and joy?”

It is an experience of being humbled, sometimes gently and sometimes in surprising ways.