Friday, March 16, 2012

2. Ice Cream Cones and Funnels



I didn't have to wait long to see him again. The next day, I woke up.

That's enough of a story considering how late we came in and how much dancing had been done. It was Sunday and I was annoyed that I had even gone to the trouble of getting up and going to church. I sat through the meetings, not being able to understand a thing, barely able to concentrate on the interpretations whispered in my ear of the lesson. Amazed that I was even awake at all.

Then came the main affair for our church meetings, Sacrament Meeting. David, my brother and interpreter, and myself, sat on the front row. Looking behind me, it was a sea of faces, many familiar from the dance the night before, all friendly, most with dark eyes, thick strong locks of hair. So many beautiful people.

At first I didn't know how I would survive an hour long meeting trying to stay alert and attentive in the front row. I think David designed it that way to help tune out background blurr but when the meeting began, there was nowhere for my attention to be but in front of me. I had the best view in the house. Did he think that embarrassment would keep me from falling asleep right under the gaze of the speaker?

I soon found that it was only place I wanted to be. Just as the meeting was starting Ariel came in, walked up past the audience and sat down behind the pulpit, waiting to be announced. I found myself suddenly alert. Maybe he spoke the entire hour long meeting. Maybe it didn't matter. He was there, not seven feet away. Speaking in tones that I read as confidence, firmness, experience; with a look in his eye that told me there was a hearty laugh behind every phrase. I listened to every word interpreted like it came directly from a golden harp. I have never been more grateful for a good interpreter.

He spoke of Missionary work. He was a stake mission leader, which means that when anyone wanted to know more about the beliefs of our church, he coordinated help for them to learn more. He was charged with leading the other missionaries and teaching them how to do it. Our church is a world wide church whose beliefs are outlined fairly clearly for anyone who lives in any small hidden corner but wants to practice them. It meant that we had both been surrounded by a a belief system that shared core ideas. It meant that we had more in common than most random dancing pair pairing off. His speech was firm and forceful. He was bold in sharing his beliefs and his joy at sharing them. In the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world, there were few with the same understanding of Christs teachings that we shared.

It was powerful to me that he didn't only belong to my faith, but was actively seeking it. I felt more hesitant than ever for thinking there was some supernatural pull toward him. But there was no doubt, seeing that he had a strong spiritual compass, seeing in his face the conviction with which he spoke, I couldn't deny that the pull was stronger than it had been the night before. I might as well have been struck dumb as a sign from the heavens. Things were getting weird.

After the meeting I intended on finding him and communicating some level of interest in a less than ridiculous way. What I was thinking was something along the lines of "Can we please go somewhere with a universal translator like on Star Trek, and you know...talk?" But before I could do anything of the sort, there was a haze of people, more to kiss hello, more to be 'presentado'. I found him through the scattered crowd talking to my brother David. I guess I should have expected my brother to know him, but I didn't know if this made things more complicated or more interesting.  I imagined that everything was about me. It seemed that since I had arrived in this country I was the center of attention every place I went. I don't exaggerate when I say that I met and kissed everyone of the 50 people in the room that day. It isn't in my nature to seek out the attention of strangers. And though I can't say I hate it when it comes, the level of interest in me from every one around me was exhausting.

When I finally made my way over to him, I only remember standing trying to understand what they were talking about, glad that I was already a part of it and didn't have to find some excuse to stand listening. There was something about Luke Skywalker and his curious glances at me, wondering possibly why I looked so interested and what was the laugh on the corner of my mouth... All I know for sure is that I hoped this would open the doors to seeing him in some other place,  and that it not be a church. I didn't know how I would talk to him. But I knew what it would be ABOUT. I had about a million questions about him, his life, his everything. I needed to know him, but my curiosity felt like the anticipation of an ice cream cone on a smouldering day. A sweet desire that needed to be satiated because soon it might all melt away. It was so much more than mere curiosity. It was urgent. It was sand falling through the small hole in a glass funnel.  Could one month be long enough?

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