Pyjamas and pearls at the end of the night means it has been a good night. Perhaps even a good day. Depends.
Today I went to a wedding. To be exact, I attended a double wedding. The brother and his bride were as beautiful together as the sister and her husband. All were surrounded by their closest friends, who witnessed and joined in the celebration.
And it was all done in Spanish.
Their modest and beautiful home was carefully decorated with flowers on the banister, flowers on the coffee table, and flowers on the cake. There was a bounty of food in the kitchen. A few families from the church were there, along with several of the couples' North American coworkers. I went with my friend and her parents. Her dad is the pastor.
Over the past couple of weeks, I have been attending their church. My friend, whom I met in Spanish class this semester, invited me about three weeks ago. I figured I'd give it a try, because, really, the "church search" isn't ever finished. Boy, am I glad I kept looking a little bit longer.
What a wonderful place to be, amidst this congregation. From the toddler girl near to whom I sit each week (love at first sight) to the first grader I got to know better tonight (we're fast and best friends); the Hondurans to the Guatemalans; the Colombians to the Mexicans; the birthday parties to the worship times; the foosball to the after-service meal; I feel right at home.
I often marvel at how open-hearted and welcoming Latinos are. And how well they know how to celebrate. There are things in life that are so very worth celebrating--and they go all out. What better way to do so than with the church, which in many of their cases is the thing most resembling family that they have nearby. By going all out, I do not mean that they overspend on the cake, the decorations, or the venue. I mean they make elegance and beauty and joy burst from every tortilla, piñata, and cake there is. They share. They share in every joyful moment: eighth birthday, first birthday, wedding. Within my two weeks in the congregation I have already been invited to join in those three celebrations.
Each night I come back to the dorm from an evening spent with the church--as my ever-patient roommate can attest--I'm positively glowing. It's thrilling to be invited so whole-heartedly into a community that loves me and loves each other and, most importantly, loves God so fully and visibly. To be this inclusive really is not a very common North American trait, in the context of church or bigger group settings. I have tried out many, many churches this school year, and none have opened their arms so fully or so unabashedly or so personally as this one. It's the gente that make the difference: the people. I found my gente, my latinoamericanos, last year on gap year, and I have graciously been given a chance to keep loving them by this new church community.
That is why I can revel tonight in my pyjamas and pearls, savoring the delicious memories and wonderful food and beautiful new friends. God is good, and he doesn't lose track of us. He meets us where we are with blessings unforeseen and, often, unimaginable. They're just too good for us to have fabricated ourselves.
I am so glad the Lord has guided me from spotlight to spotlight over the years; illuminating just enough of a path to help me make decisions that drew me closer to where I am now. I am loving the chance to watch my life be unfolded and tethered together so very neatly by the hands of a God who loves me so obviously cariñosamente--caringly, delicately, lovingly. God is good all the time. All the time, God is good.
shalom xox
