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Tuesday, March 26, 2013

rosetta lessons

I'm a little bit obsessed with communications.

Aside from loving to read and write, I also love the spiritual aspects of language. The first time I really knew there was a God (like, really knew without even a remote racing flicker of a thought or doubt) was when I first heard worship in Spanish.

Cuan grande es Dios?

I've harbored a secret obsession with language ever since; a special sort of hunger to learn as many spoken and unspoken forms of communication as possible.  

Sometimes this is effective. And sometimes---uhh...bless my heart(?)---it's so not.

Like, there was this time I went around a little village in the Dominican Republic, asking people, "Como te llamas?" (what's your name) as I passed them in their houses on a muddy path. 

I really thought I was asking them how they were doing.

Honestly. Someone should really warn a sister before she starts ignorantly quoting a Shakira song because she doesn't know a lick of Spanish. My friends that witnessed my cheerful, perky dumbness laughed at me. Hard. And rightfully so.

I tried to brush it off, like I do a lot, "Pssh, whatever guys. I was just trying to make some new friends."

But, perhaps when it comes to communications, learning from Rosetta Stone would be better than learning from Shakira. Kind of like how lessons are better learned first-hand, than through the wisdom or advice of others.

Rosetta lessons

Rosetta lessons are the lessons you learn the hard way. They're the lessons about self-control. They're lessons about guarding your heart, and guarding your wallet. I think they are—much like spoken and written word—pretty universal. Everyone at one point or another has to learn a Rosetta lesson or two.

Single people may learn a Rosetta lessons when they face a relational disappointment. Married folks (forgive me, I'm in unchartered waters here) may face financial struggles or disagreements. Married folks with kids, I'm sure, start learning Rosetta lessons as soon as they bring their joyful little swaddling "pink" or "blue" home with them.

Rosetta lessons are the ones that wake you up at 4:30 a.m. They're the thoughts that come to your mind in a flash and won't let you succumb to sleep again. And I can't speak for y'all, but they sometimes make the place where the top of my neck meets the bottom of my head sore.

And there I was this morning, wrestling my thoughts in my twisty, twin sheets. Trying to tell my inner-monologue to shut-the-good-gracious up.

But, regardless of the circumstances I'm finding myself in, I'm thankful for these Rosetta lessons. I'm thankful for the opportunities I have to learn these things on my own. To learn how to spend money wisely. To learn how to be a good steward of my time with others. 

So, much like the Rosetta Stone prepares travelers' tongues with quick, sharp words in a foreign language, perhaps—single ladies—when these lessons are through, we'll be able to relate to more people. Perhaps our ministries as emboldened, lesson-fortified, courageous women will be able to speak to others who are foreign to our stage of life.

And maybe we'll have more than a Shakira song to contribute to the mix.

Happy Tuesday, y'all!


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