October 2006 Update
Hello All,
For this month's update, I want to highlight something that is becoming more and more important to me the longer I live here--service. Victoria, a good friend who has been here about 2 years, started handing out sandwiches to homeless people in the center last Spring along with another friend. A month ago, I started going out with her, and I don't think I'll ever see the city in the same way. The desire to serve is starting to become a part of our culture in Oasis Madrid, and I thank God for Victoria's leadership even before the rest of us had caught on! This month I have asked Victoria to write about a few of the people we meet regularly. So without further introduction.......
Gigi
When I first came to Spain the most frustrating thing for me was that I couldn't express myself when I really needed to. The times when it was most important for me to say exactly what I was feeling or thinking to get my point across were the times that Spanish would just not come to me. One time in my theology class when we were having a heated discussion about the sovereignty of God and I was supposed to explain the Christian/Protestant stance on the issue, my brain basically stopped working and the only thing I was able to say was, "er.. well... God is nice."
I understood exactly how Gigi felt.
Gigi is from Bulgaria. He speaks a few words of English and some very broken Spanish. If you asked him about God, he'd probably say that God is nice too because he isn't able to say anything else. Gigi sits on the sidewalk and waits for people to drop change in his cup. His legs have been amputated, both of them, from right above his knees. I've tried to figure out what exactly he's doing in Madrid but the language barrier has been to big. The last time I saw Gigi, I went with a friend of mine who sat down and began to talk to him. We asked Gigi if he could use anything and he mentioned something about it beginning to get cold. My friend promptly removed his jacket and handed it over. Gigi not only didn't know what to say, he also didn't know how to say it. Gigi's eyes were wide and he kept saying "no, yours, no, yours." Jonathan said, "I don't care, I have more, you take it."
Gigi looked at me with tears in his eyes and in his frustration said something to the effect of "Are you sure? my Spanish bad. really? bad Spanish..." I learned that his tears reflected his gratitude more than words ever could. He couldn't express his thankfulness, he could only accept the gift and sit in stunned silence.
Like Gigi, I long to speak in language strong enough for the gift that has been bestowed on me. Christ's love is about pouring out something that there is no response for. There is only acceptance, gratitude and silence.
René
I told him only one time that I liked art.
Now, every time that I see him we talk for at least a half an hour about it. He likes Kandinsky. I don't. We both like Picasso. He likes watercolors and I prefer oils. He either likes to paint landscapes or still lives. I like portraits. He still likes Kandinsky and I still think Kandinsky was a nut job. I make sure he knows it and he scowls at me and laughs.
Rene is Cuban-Swiss although he doesn't look like either. He is a very tall black man with a BIG whitish grey afro. He speaks Spanish with an accent that makes it very difficult to understand and he occasionally throws in English words like "honey" or "movie star". He claims to speak ten languages, among them Chinese. From what he knows about Kandinsky, I'm not sure that I doubt him.
Every week, almost without fail, I see Rene sitting outside of McDonalds with a little Spam-shaped tin and his little plastic bag of stuff. Every week he stands up and greets me and kisses me on both cheeks. I'll be honest; I don't really look forward to the kisses because instead of bumping cheeks like most Spaniards do I get full lip imprints on both my cheeks. I fight the urge to wipe them off, and by the time we're done discussing why Kandinsky is good or bad, they've almost dried off. I guess that's the Cuban in him.
Rene was the first homeless friend I made and he makes me want to meet every homeless person in the world. I've never met a sweeter, more gentle man in my life. He almost makes me want to like Kandinsky.
Consolación
The old woman uses a cane to support her four foot eleven inch frame. She has a string tied around her neck to support the cardboard plate she holds out for change. She never looks up; her black, hunched-over, tiny silhouette is unmistakable from a distance. She never looks up. Until today.
"Hola Consolación, we have food for you."
The old woman lifted her eyes to those of the younger woman, Kelly, addressing her. She hadn't heard someone call her by name in so long. The majority of people treat her like they treat every other beggar... like she isn't there. The most beautiful smile I have ever seen spread across her sun-weathered, wrinkly face. Ripples like brown waves formed on her forehead, around her mouth, and seemed to stop abruptly at her hairline around her eyes- eyes that were wide with surprise and joy. Her smile showed every tooth she had, although half were missing, and you could see her tongue prodding around her mouth to form words. She reached up her tiny arm, forgetting for a second about the tray of coins she was holding, and grabbed the young woman's head in an attempt to kiss her face.
The two women talked and in the distance people sneered.
"Look at them," Consolación said, pointing her finger into the crowd. "They stare at us as if we're doing something wrong...***HOLES!"
Kelly tried to hold back the laughter. She still isn't used to old women with Mother-Teresa-esque features shouting profanities. A lot of times the only thing she can do is laugh. The only other option is to cry.
**********
Thanks, Victoria, for sharing these stories in such a beautiful way.
Please pray for us as we share Christ's love in practical ways and get to know these people, and pray for the people we meet as well (between 20 and 30 every Friday). If you want any more information on our "friday sandwich ministry," like more stories, needs, what we're learning, or names you can pray for, just ask. I'll be sure to talk your ear off!
Thanks for all your encouragement, prayer, and support.
Peace,
Kelly
For this month's update, I want to highlight something that is becoming more and more important to me the longer I live here--service. Victoria, a good friend who has been here about 2 years, started handing out sandwiches to homeless people in the center last Spring along with another friend. A month ago, I started going out with her, and I don't think I'll ever see the city in the same way. The desire to serve is starting to become a part of our culture in Oasis Madrid, and I thank God for Victoria's leadership even before the rest of us had caught on! This month I have asked Victoria to write about a few of the people we meet regularly. So without further introduction.......
Gigi
When I first came to Spain the most frustrating thing for me was that I couldn't express myself when I really needed to. The times when it was most important for me to say exactly what I was feeling or thinking to get my point across were the times that Spanish would just not come to me. One time in my theology class when we were having a heated discussion about the sovereignty of God and I was supposed to explain the Christian/Protestant stance on the issue, my brain basically stopped working and the only thing I was able to say was, "er.. well... God is nice."
I understood exactly how Gigi felt.
Gigi is from Bulgaria. He speaks a few words of English and some very broken Spanish. If you asked him about God, he'd probably say that God is nice too because he isn't able to say anything else. Gigi sits on the sidewalk and waits for people to drop change in his cup. His legs have been amputated, both of them, from right above his knees. I've tried to figure out what exactly he's doing in Madrid but the language barrier has been to big. The last time I saw Gigi, I went with a friend of mine who sat down and began to talk to him. We asked Gigi if he could use anything and he mentioned something about it beginning to get cold. My friend promptly removed his jacket and handed it over. Gigi not only didn't know what to say, he also didn't know how to say it. Gigi's eyes were wide and he kept saying "no, yours, no, yours." Jonathan said, "I don't care, I have more, you take it."
Gigi looked at me with tears in his eyes and in his frustration said something to the effect of "Are you sure? my Spanish bad. really? bad Spanish..." I learned that his tears reflected his gratitude more than words ever could. He couldn't express his thankfulness, he could only accept the gift and sit in stunned silence.
Like Gigi, I long to speak in language strong enough for the gift that has been bestowed on me. Christ's love is about pouring out something that there is no response for. There is only acceptance, gratitude and silence.
René
I told him only one time that I liked art.
Now, every time that I see him we talk for at least a half an hour about it. He likes Kandinsky. I don't. We both like Picasso. He likes watercolors and I prefer oils. He either likes to paint landscapes or still lives. I like portraits. He still likes Kandinsky and I still think Kandinsky was a nut job. I make sure he knows it and he scowls at me and laughs.
Rene is Cuban-Swiss although he doesn't look like either. He is a very tall black man with a BIG whitish grey afro. He speaks Spanish with an accent that makes it very difficult to understand and he occasionally throws in English words like "honey" or "movie star". He claims to speak ten languages, among them Chinese. From what he knows about Kandinsky, I'm not sure that I doubt him.
Every week, almost without fail, I see Rene sitting outside of McDonalds with a little Spam-shaped tin and his little plastic bag of stuff. Every week he stands up and greets me and kisses me on both cheeks. I'll be honest; I don't really look forward to the kisses because instead of bumping cheeks like most Spaniards do I get full lip imprints on both my cheeks. I fight the urge to wipe them off, and by the time we're done discussing why Kandinsky is good or bad, they've almost dried off. I guess that's the Cuban in him.
Rene was the first homeless friend I made and he makes me want to meet every homeless person in the world. I've never met a sweeter, more gentle man in my life. He almost makes me want to like Kandinsky.
Consolación
The old woman uses a cane to support her four foot eleven inch frame. She has a string tied around her neck to support the cardboard plate she holds out for change. She never looks up; her black, hunched-over, tiny silhouette is unmistakable from a distance. She never looks up. Until today.
"Hola Consolación, we have food for you."
The old woman lifted her eyes to those of the younger woman, Kelly, addressing her. She hadn't heard someone call her by name in so long. The majority of people treat her like they treat every other beggar... like she isn't there. The most beautiful smile I have ever seen spread across her sun-weathered, wrinkly face. Ripples like brown waves formed on her forehead, around her mouth, and seemed to stop abruptly at her hairline around her eyes- eyes that were wide with surprise and joy. Her smile showed every tooth she had, although half were missing, and you could see her tongue prodding around her mouth to form words. She reached up her tiny arm, forgetting for a second about the tray of coins she was holding, and grabbed the young woman's head in an attempt to kiss her face.
The two women talked and in the distance people sneered.
"Look at them," Consolación said, pointing her finger into the crowd. "They stare at us as if we're doing something wrong...***HOLES!"
Kelly tried to hold back the laughter. She still isn't used to old women with Mother-Teresa-esque features shouting profanities. A lot of times the only thing she can do is laugh. The only other option is to cry.
**********
Thanks, Victoria, for sharing these stories in such a beautiful way.
Please pray for us as we share Christ's love in practical ways and get to know these people, and pray for the people we meet as well (between 20 and 30 every Friday). If you want any more information on our "friday sandwich ministry," like more stories, needs, what we're learning, or names you can pray for, just ask. I'll be sure to talk your ear off!
Thanks for all your encouragement, prayer, and support.
Peace,
Kelly
posted by kelly_w at 2:32 AM
1 Comments:
Wow, that's really amazing! Where I live, I grew up thinking that homeless people were on the streets because they were crazy and that we should stay away. But now that I'm older I know that's not true. (and why stay away? someone has to help them!) Thank you for the wonderful stories.
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