A language of Love

                          

Val of There Is a Season has a game each week that she calls "Wordplay"  I really enjoy it and usually just answer in her comment section, but this time she has asked if we speak a foreign language, how we learned, etc.  I have a story to tell.

In 1987, I went back to school for the first time since 1977 when I completed my counseling certification.  I took some basics and Spanish as my language.  My teacher that first semester was a man who was born in Mexico City.  As he wove tales of the poverty he came from, he spoke the most wonderful Spanish, rrrrr's rolling off his tongue and a little lilt at the end of each sentence.  I loved to hear him talk.  I tried very hard to mimic his sounds and repeat the words he said.  Out of my mouth came not the music of a romance language, but the discord of acid rock.  Alas, I was not very good at my studies.

We moved to San Diego where we would be closer to Mexico and his retirement there. I signed up at a new school and into a new Spanish class.  I fared better in this class because we were going to our trailer in Mexico every couple of weeks.  I heard the language in practice. The problem was . .  . after we were home a few days, my ability to speak Spanish was nil again.

Next two semesters, our Spanish teacher was a Rumanian woman with a Master's degree in linguistics from a university in Spain.  She was an interesting woman and had many tales to tell and helped us to learn the endless conjugations.  She also explained the ins and outs of the Spanish language.  It was fascinating.  I learned to read, write and understand (for the most part) this delicious language.  I could speak a few key phrases and when necessary, to ad to my vocabulary with the dictionary.  I passed the course with flying colors.

In 1989, we moved full-time to Mexico and began to get involved.  I heard the languageall around me and understood some but not all.  They talked so fast!!  I prayed to God to help me learn.  I wanted more than anything else to communicate.

This is the story:  God answered my prayer!  In no time at all, what I could read on paper came alive in my mind and I began to speak the language like a native.  Yes, I still had words I did not know, but God was right there with me.  He was preparing me for the journey we would take with the children in Mexico.  The nuances I had seen in my first teacher came to me as if I had always had them. Along with the language, I began to understand the culture and became embedded in it while the Lord used me there.

I speak Spanish fluently, can translate while someone speaks and can read and translate as well.  This is a gift from God.  My desire to learn became His passion for me.  Without a thought, he opened my mind and heart and gave me this precious, beautiful language as a part of who I was then and who I have become today.  I am so grateful to Him for His  promises.

I have also been given a special prayer language just for His pleasure.  I am thankful for all the languages I speak.  It's because He who began it all has only one language . . . the language of love.

Be blessed in Him this day . . .