After church this a.m., about noon, I set out on a new adventure to experience spanish culture upfront, face-to-face. Full of confidence, and a little trembling, I am not expecting an hour of possibly the most nerve-wracking situation that I've put myself into in years. I literally shake inside for almost an hour.

Since finishing 2 weeks of intensive Spanish study at the community college, I have been planning to visit our local Roman Catholic Church for a service in Spanish, and today is the day! How difficult can it be? I plan to follow along in my Book of Common Prayer, Spanish version, and the service bulletin and be more or less comfortable with what goes along in the service. Yep - Uh-huh!

First of all, I know where I am going, a convenient parking place, I am right on time and don't have to ask anyone where the service is being held...-Donde esta el servicio espanol?- Just follow the Mexican people going in the door - I don't have to say a thing. O.k. in the door, oh this is fine, a small group, lots of kids, an empty seat and I'm in - whew! Well, almost, whew - I now realize that the church is packed and I am in a side seating area where I am quite certain I am being viewed by all persons seated in the nave and there are LOTS of people, lots of kids, and I am right in the eye level line of the priests, gulp. What am I doing here anyway?

My easy answer to that question is that I am going to study, to practice listening in spanish, reading in spanish, greeting, saying hello, small talk - but God has apparently planned a much greater lesson this a.m. than spanish reading, listening, speaking! If the lesson I am learning had been laid out for me in advance I might have said, "yeah, right, what's so difficult about that?"

First of all no one says hello, even with eye contact and a quiet !hola! from me. There are no prayer books, only song books in spanish, the mommy sitting next to me is very concerned about her children not bothering me.....I am so happy to see those little faces smiling at me rather than giving me a blank stare I want to hug them!

O.k., once more I'm in. Just relax, I tell myself. I am relieved to recognize the priest's greeting of -Buenas tardes- and when the band leader announces the song pages I actually recognize the page number (only one of the 4 different page numbers announced from the podium during the service - one out of 4). Oh, and by the way on the songbook full of spanish verses, there is the title in English, printed in small letters at the top of the page.....as if that will help me. However, I am so surprised and thrilled to find the correct page even once as now I can read the spanish and sing along with the tunes....my personal tune not mattering much as the band is very loud!

The song books also allow me to peak over the shoulders in front of me to see where we are, as no one seems too interested in assisting me even when I inquire -que pagina?-

As it is turning out, the songbooks are my only real life preserver through the service; except of course, I do know how to extract money from my handbag for the offering plate, and I do know how to "exchange the peace." I shake every person's hand even remotely close too me. During the exchange, the adults mumble back at me and the children just grin like I am some big white fairy godmother, or gremlin or whatever, sitting in their midst!

The sermon is delivered in words that I can almost sound out, they seem familiar even though I have little idea of what the priest is saying.....he is speaking about the "gran sorpresa" to the Judios and I am feeling a little like the Judios thinking this whole spanish experience is turning out as a "gran sorpresa" for me!

During the communion part of the service, I am certain the priest looks me right in the eye and signals, "don't even think about it senora".....and, of course, I sort of, kind of, recognize the priest's words and the responses, although no one is reading the responses, they are reciting them from memory in different cadences giving me little chance to understand a word they are saying!!

So, as I tell you this tale right now, you can only guess and probably know the lesson that God has given me this day. It's, of course, not about the English vs. Spanish language thing, nor the cultural experience, it's about the intimidating, frightening experience of being all alone in a huge place where I am different from everyone else. I am the lone stranger, I am the timid one in their midst. I am the one who is crying out for a smile, an assuring word from anyone! Fearful of embarrassing myself, fearful of doing something tasteless or wrong or stupid; fearful of committing an error in God's worship place. I am the one who does not know the language or customs. I am the one who asks for the page numbers and looks down or up or absolutely straight ahead as though I am in total control. I am the one who sticks out. I am different.

The most frightening, truly frightening experience of the entire service is near the end, after communion, when Father Pat is making announcements and is asking certain people to stand - my heart nearly stops, believing he is going to ask for guests to stand - I pray, "dear Lord, deliver me" - HE does! No standing required!

I'm not sure I have experienced this alien feeling in my life. Even when living in Asia, I was always with "someone" - colleagues, a spouse, a guide, a child who depended upon my confidence - I was not alone, alone - and then of course, there was an American contingent living there as well, to whom the Asian population was the minority even though WE were living in their midst. That's another story!

So today I am grateful and relieved to have been given this test. I thank God for the courage, really false courage in the beginning to get me there, to sit in the shoes, or pew, of those I have questioned before, and assured before, that they were imagining a lack of love, a lack of inclusiveness, a measure of distasteful discrimination from those around them. Those I've tried to console have assured me they just want to feel safe. Today I had a real taste of how it is to yearn for safety even in God's house - safe in your body, mind and soul. How short sighted have I been to assume others' feelings were that of paranoia rather than true life experience.