I am SO Hispanic

Tonight I had the opportunity to translate for a Guatemalan birthmom who is making an adoption plan for her unborn baby. We were in their tiny little apartment with her mom, her, her daughter, and her two little sisters (who are within a year or two in age from her daughter). Mexican comedy was on the TV and we were offered bottled water.

It was like I was going back in time....

back in time to when I was 5 and we had just moved to Denver and all my neighbors were Hispanic and all my little friends;

back in time to when I was 10 and all my friends in school were Hispanic and their parents had me come over to play and made me enchiladas and beans and homemade tortillas;

back in time to when I was 17 and in High School with a majority Hispanic population;

back in time to when I was 25 and went on my first missions trip to Mexico City and felt more at home there than I had anywhere since I left Denver;

back in time to when I was 26 and 27 and made return mission trips to Cd. Valles, San Luis Potosi, and to Cuernavaca;

back in time to when was 29 and spent a month in language school in Costa Rica;

back in time to when I was 30 and living in Cd. Valles;

back in time to when I was 31 and living in Puebla, Puebla, Mexico;

back in time to when I was 34 and married and working with Hispanic migrant farm workers in rural Minnesota ...

back in time to when I was 38 and 40 and made trips to Guatemala to pick up our sons.

Sometimes I feel more at home in Hispanic culture than I do in my own. My Spanish comes back to me quickly in that setting, along with so much more -- it all rushes back -- the smells, the feelings, the form of humor, the richness of the culture, the way people relate to one another, the importance of people over material posessions, and the priority of events over time.

And for just a few minutes I forget that I am a white middle class American, despised (and rightly so) by many citizens of our world because we tend to ignore the needs of others and have messed up priorities and all kinds of other things that if I print I'll receive hateful comments....

My life is like a tapestry, with each thread representing a different part of who I am. The color of thread that represents my experiences with Hispanic culture, which would be a bright color indeed, is woven throughout this tapestry and I can't believe how thankful I am that it is.