Sprechen sie what?

Okay. Here are some of my cross-lingual experiences of late.

Experience 1:
I was reading a book about Africa the other day and was struck by a statement that accompanied a beautiful photo of a little girl giving a big 'cheese.' "We all smile in the same language." "Huh," I thought. "That's true!" I felt very encouraged by that. Living in a neighborhood like Brooklyn, it can be difficult to feel like you have any way to build relationships with many of the people passing you on the street talking on the phone in Spanish, calling to their run-away child in Arabic, or chatting in Chinese. How do you get to know them? How do you show them Jesus? So, this quote from the book gave me a renewed excitment for those daily streetside encounters. And it is true. I have daily shared smiles & been cheerfully returned as I've strolled about my neighborhood. It's like saying hola, salam lechem, ni hao, without saying a word. So I've realzied; smile=welcome. welcome=caring. caring=love. love=Jesus. It's at least a start.

Experience 2:
With the whole moving/getting settled thing going on for the past few months I have neglected getting my hair cut. So it was a task this week to do something about my borderline unmanagable mane. The other day as I was walking around the neighborhood, I kept my eyes open for promising looking hair salons. I passed many, went in to check out a few. One stood out. I walked in and was immediately cheerfully greeted. The ladies there were friendly and helpful. I inquired of the prices & appointment requirements. As I walked out, I said aloud actually, "That's the one." I was excited to find a place where I could be a regular and get to know neighborhood folks. Images of Steel Magnolias and Truvy's Salon flashed through my mind. So, today was the day. I strode to 5th avenue with high hopes. I went in and was immediately reminded that building relationships...particularly cross-cultural ones will not be easy and requires attentiveness and intentionality. Here are a few of the exchanges between me and my stylist Gloria (from Colombia) who speaks in a mixture of Spanish & very broken English:

1. Gloria: You want wash your hair? Ann: No, thank you. Just cut. Gloria: Okay, you come to sink.

2. Ann: How many hair stylists work here? Gloria: I cutting hair, oh, 25 years.

3. Gloria: You want me to blow dry? Ann: No, I'd like it to air dry. Gloria: okay (and pulls out hair dryer)

Not all of our conversation was confused, but this afternoon reminded me that relationships take effort. My hair did not turn out how I'd have liked it too, or how I explained, but it will grow. And so too might a friendship. If I'm willing to put in the effort.

I am thankful for these cross-lingual encounters. They are helping me learn about how to share Jesus in this new place; even with a smile & a haircut.