When my church first started preparing for "Reach Out Wausau," a free clinic offering medical care, eye exams, a hot meal, free clothing, and various other services to the Wausau community, I was excited for my churchmates, but didn't pay much attention since I thought I'd be in Spain by then. Well, once I realized I would still be in Wausau on October 1st (the day of the clinic), I started thinking about signing up to be an "advocate" (a volunteer who would stay with an assigned family at the clinic and guide them to whatever services they needed). Several weeks before the clinic, Adam, the husband of one of the clinic-coordinators, urged me to sign up as a bilingual advocate. "A church in another community that didn't even think they had a Hispanic population did a clinic like this, and the people they served ended up being about 70% Hispanic," he told me.
Okay, Wausau definitely has a Hispanic population- that's why I had the job that I did at Kiefer last year. But..."I don't know if I'm really qualified to do it in Spanish," I told him. "I worked with little kids who spoke Spanish this past year (under the supervision of a teacher who speaks Spanish at a nearly-native level), but we're talking medical or deeply spiritual lingo, here."
"Well, I can tell you right now that, no matter how deep the language gets, a Spanish-speaker would be a lot better off with you than they would be with me, or most of the other people in our congregation," Adam pointed out.
Well, yeah, good point...so, I signed my name on the advocate sign-up sheet, and put "Bilingual- English/Spanish" immediately after it. I walked away wondering what I had just gotten myself into.
As I mulled it over in my head over the next few weeks, I was able to calm myself down (somewhat). I didn't think I could handle working with children in Spanish, either, and that had worked out just fine. And when I was studying abroad in Mexico, I managed to get through haircut appoints and doctor's visits- how bad could this be?
However, as October first approached, my nerves started acting up again, especially after we had our advocate training meeting the Monday before. Our associate pastor, Greg, reminded us, "If we give these people a free meal, free clothes, free medical care, or anything else they might need, but don't share the reason why we are doing this, we haven't given them anything." Our number one priority as volunteers was to share the love of Christ with them. I confess, while this should have been an encouraging reminder, it took me from "anxious" to "terrified". Could I even share my faith with a stranger in English?! How could I take this all on in Spanish?! To stress me out more, I discovered that only one other person had officially signed up as a Spanish-speaking advocate- he is certified to teach Spanish and is much more fluent than I am, but he was still only one person. It was pretty much a sure thing that I would be called upon to use my Spanish.
Saturday, the day of the clinic, my dad offered to drive me to church in order to save a parking space at the clinic. I'm glad he did, as I was a nervous wreck and probably wasn't fit to drive that morning! Anyone who saw me beforehand at the volunteer-meeting saw what a pile of nervous energy I was! My good friend, Maria, tried to calm me down and remind me that God was in control, but I barely heard what she said. As the meeting concluded, the advocates all lined up along the hallway that runs through the church building, and, with shaking hands, I wrote, "Habla Espanol" on my nametag. Already, families were lining up to register for the clinic, and many of them were speaking Spanish. Clinic coordinators were going through the line of advocates asking if anyone else could possibly speak Spanish- I think they might have found one other volunteer who said he'd give it a try. I watched as a few families were assigned to their advocates, including the first Spanish speaking family to come in. They were assigned to Eric, my Spanish-speaking churchmate. I watched him greet the family and interact with them confidently in Spanish, and fought the urge to compare my Spanish skills (and general social skills) with his. Then, Carrie, the clinic coordinator, approached me. "Hannah, we need you to take this couple; they need a Spanish speaker."
GAUGH, NO!! I CAN'T DO IT!! "Okay," was all I said out loud, and followed Carrie over to where the couple was seated. It was at that moment that I felt God asking me, "Who are you doing this for?"
Who
was I doing this for? Was I wanting to show off my Spanish skills to my church family? Did I want this couple I was about to serve to see me as a hero? Was I trying to prove something to myself? No, that's not why I was here. I had signed up to help out so that God might be honored and glorified, and so that the love of Christ would be reflected to people in need. And nowhere in the Bible had God commanded me to speak another language like a native speaker- He had simply commanded me to rely on Him and follow where He lead me- and now, He was leading me to serve this couple. "Okay, God, take over. I am nothing without You," I prayed, then took a deep breath and gave the couple my warmest smile, "Buenas dias, soy Hannah," I greeted them.
From there, God answered my prayer and "took over." The couple were both able to get eye-exams and much-needed glasses, along with a wonderful meal, some clothes (they had just moved to Wisconsin and were very thankful for free winter clothes!), and information about some programs in the Wausau area that they needed. In between times, I was so blessed with the conversation I was able to have with them. I learned that they lived in Merrill, and had also lived in Wisconsin several years ago, and had lived in several different states in between (he was a construction worker, which moved him around a lot!). I learned that they had one son, who was married and had three children and lived in Peru. I told them that I had a brother who lived in Africa, and that I had lived in Wausau all my life, but had studied at UW La Crosse and had spent a year in Puebla, Mexico. It turned out they were from the same area and were familiar with the university where I'd been an exchange student. At one point, they mentioned that they had lived in Chicago for a short time. "Our pastor is from Chicago!" I told them. "He is a Bears fan.
El le gusta los Osos de Chicago!"
"Los Osos de Chicago?!" the husband exclaimed dramatically. "No, no, no! Los GREEN BAY PACKERS!!" All three of us laughed together, and I was reminded of how much we had in common, despite our different cultural backgrounds. At another point in our day, he shared with me that he had suffered from "blastocysts" (comparable to cancer) on his brain several years ago, and didn't expect to live. A doctor had performed surgery, and he had suffered from severe depression afterwards, which is common after such a surgery. "But prayer is powerful, and our God heals," he told me. "Today, no blastocysts, and no depression, even though I never took medicine for the depression. God has healed me. Jesus is the great physician."
I was sad to have to say goodbye once they received everything they needed. We closed in prayer together, and they were presented with Spanish Bibles as a gift. They both gave me hugs and thanked me, asking me to pass their thanks along to everyone who had been a part of this clinic. I served one other guest (an English-speaker) before the clinic closed. (Eric and I joked that neither of us could think in English after speaking Spanish for so long!) As the volunteers began tearing down the clinic and resetting the church for Sunday morning, we all had stories to share- what started out as a cool idea had turned into an incredible day where we were reminded of God's goodness and faithfulness.
As I pulled into church this morning, I almost felt like it was the day after Christmas- weeks of preparation finally climaxing in an incredible event, and now it was all over. However, our speaker in church reminded us that we are called to be the light of the world- that doesn't mean we flip our light on for a Saturday and turn it off when the clinic closes. Being the light of the world is a 24-7 calling- and my prayer is that myself, my brothers and sisters at Wausau Alliance, and the entire Body of Christ might answer that call, all for the glory of God.
