Found in Translation (31 page)

“Yes, it is. I messed up here just like I did back home. I can’t imagine the trouble I’ll be in when I go back to court. I brought it all on myself. I’m a loser.”

What should I say?
I had no idea I’d come this close to reaching him. Yet now that he’d barricaded himself behind this mask of negativity, I wouldn’t have any more chances.

Not if he went home today.

I was about to take Geoff’s hand and pray aloud where we stood, but Rob appeared from the direction of the mess tent and addressed Geoff more sternly than I’d heard him speak to anyone.

“Geoff, go on. Get your things ready. Pick up something to eat from the mess tent. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes. We’ll call Jill on the satellite phone and tell her to expect you. I hope you’ll feel good explaining why you’re coming home.”

After wincing at Rob’s reference to his mom and drying his eyes on his shirtsleeve, Geoff dragged his feet in the direction of the boys’ field. He trudged along as if he couldn’t bear the weight of his own world. He made me think of Jesus dragging His cross to Golgotha. Had He sensed a similar feeling of dread and defeat?

“Rob …?”

“Hmm?” He looked at me through misty eyes.

Although I had his attention, I couldn’t verbalize my request. My heart and mind were colliding like bumper cars at an amusement park.

Geoff hadn’t reached the boys’ field yet. I could still see him, but I’d been wrong comparing him with Jesus and His cross. Geoff looked like a whipped dog with his tail between his legs.

Jesus never had a reason to look like that. Geoff did.

Throughout my encounter with Geoff and now again with Rob, Anjelita remained silent. She seemed to realize that Geoff was the culprit, although she couldn’t possibly know how Rob was punishing him. She squeezed my hand. I think she knew I was more concerned about Geoff than about the garden.

Should I?
I had to. I’d ask. I’d beg if I had to. But what if Rob refused?

I summoned all of my courage and prayed for more. Under circumstances like these when my disfluency was apt to be at its worst, I found myself speaking clearly, simply, and sincerely. “Rob, please don’t send Geoff home.”

Chances were Rob would refuse, yet my heart told me I’d done the right thing—the godly thing—by interceding for Geoff.

I should’ve had more faith in Rob, though. He didn’t argue. Tears overflowed his eyes. Perhaps he knew Geoff’s spiritual and emotional well-being rested in my hands more now than ever.

“You’re sure?” he said.

I nodded.
Lord, please keep me sure.

A
lthough Rob didn’t send Geoff home, he didn’t get off scot-free. I saw him after breakfast, setting out rocks at the borders Anjelita and I had defined yesterday. If using more rocks than Anjelita and I had and placing them closer together was any indication, he took this one last chance seriously.

I smiled when I saw him using a tape measure to place the rocks equidistant from one another. Duh. How come I hadn’t thought of that?

At the rate he was going, he would soon be replacing the wildflowers. Boys must prefer building flower gardens from the outside in. I giggled to myself as I wondered whether Geoff had ever painted himself into a corner, but I got serious again on realizing he’d done a good job of that the past week. And probably the last year or two as well.

I was in a corner of my own, but at least I’d come willingly. Although the rock garden had caused a slight delay, I couldn’t postpone the more important project any longer. I didn’t want to test God’s patience.

I started laughing on the way to retrieve the Bible from my sleeping bag, where I’d looked it over with renewed confusion earlier this morning. Anjelita walked beside me. Each time I laughed, her high-pitched giggle echoed back. Laughter would never be the same again without her.

In four days, I’d have to say good-bye. Although I tried to keep from thinking about it, the prospect of leaving was already tearing me up. Shakespeare had been wrong; Parting wouldn’t be the least sweet. Only sorrowful. After two weeks of relating and functioning like conjoined twins, we’d suffer the painful operation that separated us for good. Cut off from one another’s day-to-day realities by lack of e-mail, telephone, and regular postal mail, only fond memories would keep our kinship intact.

Although Aleesha—many other team members, too—had taken dozens of pictures of Anjelita and me and would e-mail them to everyone who wanted them, Anjelita would never see them or receive a copy. That tore me up.

Unless I returned to Santa María someday, we’d never see one another again in this life, and unless Anjelita became a believer, our separation would be eternal. At first, I’d fretted about that for hours at a time; but then I realized God’s strange-yet-amusing plan was truly worthwhile.

The only hope for Anjelita and Rosa—for the whole village—required me to sit in the hot sunshine outside the building I prayed might someday be used as a church and read aloud from the Bible in Spanish, a language I had no idea how to pronounce. I might as well be speaking with a pig’s oink.

Logically, I had a zero percent chance of success. But God was in complete charge of this plan, not me. So chance and human logic didn’t apply.
Lord, when the time comes, won’t You give me a little encouragement? Just a small sign that I’m accomplishing … that You’re using me to accomplish something.

If I was going to be God’s “Evangelizer Bunny,” He’d have to be my never-failing battery. I’d need His power just to keep going and going and going.

I put the Bible under my arm when Anjelita and I started back toward the church. I tripped and almost fell once. I was apt to do that several times daily—graceless creature that I was—but Anjelita had grown expert at watching out for me. Although she couldn’t grab me this time, she managed to catch the Bible while I steadied myself.

I marveled at her agility. Although she had a permanent disability, she barely seemed aware of having limitations. She could do almost everything other people did. She just did them differently.

After Anjelita caught the Bible, I let her carry it. I had no idea what translation it was, but I would croak if it turned out to be a Spanish rendering of the original King James Version. I’d prefer using the most modern version possible. Then I noticed Version Reina-Valera 1909 in small letters at the bottom of the front cover.

No matter what Reina-Valera meant, this translation apparently dated back to 1909. One hundred years old. I sighed before comforting myself with the thought that at least it was still three hundred years newer than the King James Version.

Even if I couldn’t guess what
Antiguo y Nuevo Testamento
meant, a Bible this thick and using such tiny print had to include both the Old and New Testaments. My eyes weren’t comfortable with anything smaller than a nine-point font, and CD liners often required the use of a magnifying glass.

This Bible appeared to be in six-or seven-point print, and I dreaded the headache I’d get trying to read it. I made a mental note to figure out the exact font size when I got home. Just out of curiosity. But by then, it would be a moot point.

Actually, the print size was already a moot point. I’d committed to reading it—bleary eyes and headache or not.

Anjelita looked at the front cover of the Bible. She read the words Santa Biblia aloud, but they didn’t seem to hold any special meaning for her. I assumed someone her age would have a limited reading vocabulary. Not knowing how she’d learned to read or write, I couldn’t appreciate how advanced Anjelita’s education was.

The back cover was plain.

Anjelita looked like she was dying to open the Bible and start reading, but she couldn’t carry it in her hand and flip pages with the stub of her other arm. Not while walking. She tried balancing the Bible on her half arm, but she couldn’t hold it open that way. That angle would’ve made reading almost impossible, anyhow.

She looked like she wanted to stop where we were and sit down with the Bible to discover what it was. Even though I loved seeing her excitement over the Biblia, I had to motion for her to keep moving.

The sun shone brightly now, and I touched her necklace without removing it. I turned the prism one way and then another until it projected the colors of the rainbow on the cover of the Bible.

Did she have any idea how special this book was? If so, would she come to accept it as the love letter God sent to shine His light on lives lost in darkness? Would she ever see this book as the prism that scattered God’s perfect white light and created the rainbow colors of a believer’s life?

G
eoff was still at work on the flower garden.

Anjelita pointed at him with the stub of her arm, and we both smiled. I didn’t know if we were thinking the same thing, but when she winked at me, I set the Bible down in a safe place. Making sure Geoff wasn’t looking, I cunningly picked up the tool we’d used the previous afternoon and hid it behind my back. I’d never stolen anything before, and I was surprised at how well my first heist had gone. Speeding toward the girls’ field with my loot and my little accomplice, I felt like a thief making her getaway.

But this was just a game. We’d been the victims of the real “crime,” not the perpetrators.

Geoff wouldn’t miss the digging tool for a while. If he needed it before we brought it back, let him think he’d misplaced it. I giggled as I imagined him looking everywhere for it, perhaps fearful he’d set a rock on top of it. Anjelita giggled with me.

I was just as glad she couldn’t ask why I was so happy. Explaining would have been a challenge. My mind was so set on “heaping hot coals” on Geoff’s head that the pure joy of repaying evil with good made me giddy.

When we reached the near side of the girls’ field, we saw that more wildflowers had sprung up overnight, many of them colored more brilliantly than the ones we’d transplanted the day before. I’d never seen such vivid reds, blues, purples, oranges, and yellows. Even the white flowers looked like God had just given them the freshest of new paint jobs.

I knelt carefully—I’d learned my lesson well that first night in Santa María—and started digging. I sensed Anjelita’s approval. But how I longed to explain we weren’t helping Geoff because we were nice people, but because I thought Jesus would have done it and we ought to do it in His place.

I’d heard many sermons and Sunday school lessons about turning the other cheek and going the second mile, but those concepts would be unfamiliar to Anjelita with her apparent lack of familiarity with the Bible.

But what about me? Although those concepts are familiar, they’ve only been theory until now. I’ve never tried putting them into practice before.

Anjelita disappeared for a moment, returned with the old woolen blanket, and stretched out beside me. As I lifted each flower and root ball from the ground, I passed it to her, and she set it on the blanket as if handling a newborn baby. The blanket’s mothball stink had finally dissipated, and the sweet perfume of wildflowers had started taking its place.

I marveled at God’s ability to grow such a profusion of wildflowers in such unlikely-looking ground. Had the storm that leveled Santa María also brought flower seeds?
Lord, these signs of new life are exciting. Thanks for involving me—no matter how slightly—in Your rejuvenation process.

As we dragged the blanket toward the churchyard, I glanced at Anjelita and quoted the scripture about continuing to forgive the people who’ve wronged us. That’s seventy times seven, four hundred and ninety forgivenesses per person on a purely mathematical basis—if I could still multiply correctly without a calculator.

I giggled to myself. What kind of counter did God intend for us to use on those four hundred and ninety offenses? Probably just something that registered zero or one. One meant “not forgiven.” Zero was “forgiven.” Did the human side of Jesus have to struggle with forgiveness? I had to believe He did, and I worshiped as I considered that mystery.

Whether I’d helped anyone in Santa María or not, this trip had done more for me than I could comprehend. I’d heard other people—kids and adults—talk about mission trips they’d gone on. Almost invariably they’d said, “I went to be a blessing, but I came away blessed. I’m different now. I’ll never be the same again.”

How true that had been for me—infinitely more than any other mission trip I’d ever been on.

I didn’t realize I’d gotten lost in thought until Anjelita stopped and I kept going. The blanket pulled so taut that two-thirds of the flowers spilled, and I plowed straight into Geoff.

I’d never noticed how tall he was. Of course, everyone was taller than me, but he was a skyscraper now compared to single-story me. I thought guys his age weren’t supposed to grow more, especially in the short time we’d been in Santa María.

I looked into his eyes, and they looked clearer and more carefree than I’d ever seen. Maybe not carefree, but … forgiven.

On his way to pack, he’d looked so burdened down. Maybe I’d never seen him look any other way. I’d never seen him stand up so straight before. As if he no longer bore the weight of his mask.

No wonder he looked taller.

I
sat down on the hard ground in front of the church with the Santa Biblia on my lap, braced my back against the hot building, and prayed my body wouldn’t start aching hours before I finished for the day.

Geoff had graciously left that spot bare for me. He smiled and gave a thumbs-up when he saw my Bible. I couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t just different from yesterday; he was night-and-day different from earlier this morning. Maybe Rob had explained his change of mind about sending Geoff home.

My reading spot was several feet from the doorway a steady stream of laborers would soon pass through for water, snacks, and shade. Because they often stayed inside during their breaks, I’d have to project my voice through the open door.

Only Anjelita would hear every word. If she could stand listening to me butcher her precious heart language for hours at a time, that is.