mi querida iglesia

From the first day I set foot in the sanctuary of Iglesia Bautista Hermanos Unidos, I knew I loved it.  The congregation members are so welcoming and loving.  The pastor passionately teaches from the Bible—and the Bible alone.  The environment is warm and gracious (despite the frigid air conditioning!)  The people there have been a family to me in a place where I’ve had no real family.  So, I’ve known for a while that I was going to miss them all greatly. 

I made it a point, though, not to tell them that I was leaving until the last possible moment because I didn’t want anyone to make a big deal out of it.  I don’t like to be the center of attention.  (Can you sense the foreshadowing?)

And then today happened…

I showed up to church slightly nervous that deaf people would come and I would have to interpret the sermon (I usually just do the announcements, prayers, and songs and Betsy handles the preaching, but she’s away now).  In walked a deaf man, and I prayed for the gift of tongues (or in this case finger tongues!).  As I was interpreting the announcements, I started hearing myself being described by the pastor.  I figured this was when he was going to make me stand in front while he prayed for my safe trip and blessings in my future endeavors.  This is the standard procedure for anyone leaving (even for a week-long vacation).

I was slightly right, but I never expected what came next.  After the pastor said his few words, he pulled out a beautiful plaque of appreciation (I didn’t even think that I did enough to warrant appreciation—in fact, I always felt a little guilty that I didn’t serve enough in the church).  He read it to everyone, and we hugged.

Then he welcomed the kids from my Wednesday night sign-language class to the stage.  They read notes and poems they had written for me (I was pretty close to tears here…but I think I was still a bit too startled at this point and was trying to maintain composure while I interpreted it all into sign language.)

Then the pastor’s wife came on stage to pray for me, and all the kids laid their hands on me while she did so.  So now I was trying not to cry and interpreting with twelve hands on my arms and shoulders!

Then I was asked to stand at the front of the center aisle while everyone lined up to shake my hand and kiss me and tell me a few parting words.  I made it to somewhere around Nilsa and Rosa before I cried for real.  That was a great feat.  I don’t cry in public. 

But wait…there’s more!

As I sat down with teary eyes, the pastor announced that there was lunch and cake after the service for me!  And then I had to interpret the rest of the service.  That’s how I know God gave me the gift of finger tongues today!

Lunch was beautiful.  There were balloon sculptures (a MUST for all church luncheons) and pretty table cloths and lovely conversation (and of course arroz con habichuelas, jamón con piña, pollo, coditos, y pan).  There were gifts and pictures and cake, too.

My church is so sweet, and I am going to miss them terribly.  I look forward to visiting them in a while to see all that God is doing in and through them.

Por algunos miembros que leen este blog…Que Dios les bendiga.  Voy a extrañarles mucho, y ustedes estarán siempre en mi corazón.