Day 3: In which we attend church, have a potluck and get lost in translation

Alex and I came downstairs, dressed and ready for church by 8am. The service didn't start till 10:30am but we were told breakfast would be at 8. However, this is Mexican time so we didn't really get to eat till about 8:30. But it was well worth waiting for. I had never had hot dogs fried with scrambled eggs, but it was very tasty. Margarita made my day when she gave me a bottle of ketchup to use. Slowly the family came down one by one and everyone just kinda ate whenever. We were sort of expecting everyone to sit down together and eat at once, but now that I think of it I am not sure where that idea came from ^^'' Alex actually went back to bed for a little while at one point.

When we were finally ready to leave we, Lucio, Andres, Margarita and Cesar piled into the family car and drove the five minutes to church. It was pretty much uphill the entire way. We made a sharp right turn down a narrow road and Lucio pulled off to the side (which almost looked like a nearby house's yard). We got out and walked down a pathway to a set of wide stone stairs. We split off to the right and walked down a confining alley that was bordered by tall brick walls on each side. To the left a pale yellow, metal door was swung open to reveal a set of adjacent stone steps. We walked up these and found ourselves in the church's courtyard.

The courtyard was paved with concrete and contained with tall, smooth, off-white walls. Directly in front of the steps was a large, beautiful bush adorned with bright purple flowers I could not identify. To the left was a large green barrel filled with water and next to that were two small bathrooms. The bathrooms' doors were metal (I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever see a wood door in this country) and each was narrow, perhaps only 4' wide. Each had a small sink held up on thin metal legs. The toilets, much to my dismay, did not have toilet seats. I had been told that many toilets in Mexico don't have toilet seats. Apparently something we as Americans consider so essential is sort of looked at as an extra but unnecessary feature to a bathroom. Sort of like a lid cover or a jar of potpourri. I'm happy I've been working out; hovering is easier when your quads and hams are strong.

Directly in front of the bathrooms is a set of wide stone stairs that leads up to the sanctuary on the second floor. When you walk up the stairs there is an open area like a patio that has a white metal railing around the outside. The sanctuary has two sets of curved, double doors made out of pretty pieces of colored Plexiglas and white metal. Inside the adjacent wall is lined with large windows, and all the walls are the same off-white shade seen on the outside. The floor is covered in a shiny, caramel colored tile with a simple geometric pattern on it. The seats resemble a cross between a traditional wooden bench and movie theater seats. They fold up when no one is sitting in them and they are not bolted down to the floor so they can easily be moved when needed.

When the service began I was delighted; we sang a lot of songs. I actually knew several of their English equivalents. We also stood up and sat down a lot and I wondered if the heavy presence of Catholicism in the country was responsible for that. After the pastor gave his sermon (very precious little of which I was able to grasp) he asked us all to greet one another. Normally I don't care for greeting time in church. I often feel like it's forced, fake and doesn't make any difference or foster any sort of connection between people. This time, however, I actually enjoyed it. We sang a very bouncy, happy song and walked around blessing one another.

After the service was done their was Sunday School. They actually divided it like this: married men, married women, and young people. I thought that was strange. What if you were not a young person and also were not married? Where would you go? But it seemed that there were no stragglers wondering where they belonged, so perhaps there is no one who falls into that catergory at that church. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. A question I hardly get asked in America is if Alex and I have any kids. We've only been married for three years and just in our mid-twenties, so in the US we're pretty normal. But so far I think every person I have told that I've been married for three years has followed that information with a question of if we have a baby yet. It doesn't bother me, and everyone has seemed quite accepting of the fact that Alex and I have decided to wait a while. But it is a difference I have noticed.

I felt frustrated because I wanted to be with the young people but I am a married woman, so in the end I decided to stay with the women's group. I was joined by Gina, Alice and Jane, the other three adult women on the trip. My frustration grew because I understood hardly a word of what the women were talking about and it sounded like a very good conversation. Everyone seemed very open with each other, and more than once some women shared some personal goings on in the families that brought them and others to tears. I was impressed by the openess that I sensed in this group, in this church family, and wondered how it could have come so easily. Is it just a cultural difference? Or perhaps this was truly an exceptional group of closely knit church members.

After Sunday School we all gathered in the fellowship hall downstairs. To get to it we had to go down the stairs outside of the sanctuary, through the courtyard and in through another set of the colored Plexiglas and white metal curved doors. In here the floor was concrete and one of the walls was lined with large windows. Directly in the back an industrial, sliding metal door was open to reveal a large opening in the wall that led to the back portion of the church's property.

We shared a potluck meal (which of course was delicious) and had group meeting after. Scott let us all know who would be doing what the next day, whether it was going to be construction or VBS. When he told me that I'd be doing VBS I will admit I was scared (for those of you who have read previous posts of mine, you know that large groups of children scare me and I really have to pump myself up for it). The fact that there was going to be a huge language barrier made me feel even more uneasy. But Alex pointed out that this was theMexican's VBS, and if there was a problem they would handle it. It helped me feel better, but I was still a little worried.

There was a short evening service at church where we sang more songs, and then it was time to go home. Lucio drove, like usual. But in the back seat was me, Alex, Margarita and 5-year-old Debbie, who sat on my lap, and in the front Andres shared the seat with Cesar. It's just the way things are done here. People don't wear seatbelts and you pile as many folks as you possibly can into one car because it's all you have! Usually folks don't have to drive very far, and because of all the topes you end up never going very fast anyway. Although the traffic is still somewhat unnerving.

Back at home we shared a lite dinner and got a chance to chat with the family. Thankfully Lucio knows a little bit of English and he seems eager to pratice. He is easy to speak with and slowly we are able to hash things out. Mistakes still get made, however. One had to do with my hairstyle.

Before we left I had done my hair up in corn rows so i wouldn't have to fuss with it while we are here. Lupita, Margarita and Michele complimented me on it, and I wanted to tell them what we call them in America. We took out our dictionary and looked up the word for corn. When we said it they all looked at Alex and me with confused faces. Alex glanced at the dictionary again and discovered the word we had used for corn was the word for the kind of corns you get on your feet. Very embaressed but completely amused with our error we found the correct word and we all had a good laugh. Lupita said that they looked like churros to her (which are long, slender, deep-fried pastries that you can sometimes find at carnivals in the US), and so we decided to call the style that instead.

Things are going well. Tomorrow we get to work!