Different Hats

Do you ever spend the day going from one activity to the next and none of them connect to each other at what so ever? One minute you could be a musician, then a children’s leader, a coordinator, a house guest, a single and available girl, and finally a clueless tourist and foreigner. Yes, these were all the different hats I wore two Sunday’s ago. 

Three weeks ago I had agreed to sing with two other Filipino men who had arranged special music for the following week for service. And for those of you who know me well, know that I don’t like singing in public in front of people, at all. But they wouldn’t let me get out of it. The Sunday started off with broken guitar strings that couldn’t be fixed and then trying to figure out who would take care of the children after children’s sermon until I could go upstairs to do children’s choir.  Nervously waited for my turn to sing, ran upstairs and led children's choir, and then forgot to go up during the invitation to present my testimony to join as a member.  After the service I had about four different people to talk to that only come on Sundays, as well as trying to figure out my phone because my plan hadn’t rolled over like I thought it would.  I was leaving the city later for lunch so I also had to make sure my ride would wait for me while I tried to get the other errands accomplished.  After rushing through several meetings, running across the street to fix my phone, then coming back to "Where were you, I've been looking all over for you! Come on it's time to go!" I was swept off with a group of people to enjoy lunch on the country side about 20 minutes outside of the city. On the way out of the city a man stopped me and my friend and said: “Ladies, stay calm I’m not a terrorist or anything.” Then proceeded to ask us about donating to help with drug and aid prevention. It was all we could do to walk away far enough before we started busting out laughing.  Why would you start a conversation that way? Just one of the many things you encounter in Rome. 

The afternoon was spent enjoying a lovely lunch with good friends and delicious food where I was promptly set up to marry a 34 year old African who lives in Chicago and works as an engineer.  We spent the next ten minutes laughing and joking about how my “southern” family would react and probably disown me if I brought home a “black” boy friend or husband.  To laugh at something in my own culture was so refreshing and I appreciated how these people from Nigeria were able to relate to me and my culture based on time they had spent living in the states.  

At about 6:00 that evening I was dropped off at the train station where I needed to get a ticket from the automatic machine before I could go back to Rome.  I walked over to the machine and spent about ten minutes trying to get a ticket with no avail.  A security guard was standing in the corner chatting on his cell phone watching me fail at getting a ticket out of the machine.  Once he finished his conversation I politely asked him if he spoke English to which he replied that he did not.  So in broken Italian I tried to explain that I needed a ticket back to Rome.  He conveyed to me that the ticket machine is broken but I could get one at the shop. Once outside I looked around and there was no shop or building for that matter, anywhere.  Looking like a lost puppy and not sure what to do, especially since I didn’t have numbers of the people I was just with, an Armenian man asked if I needed help.  I went through the whole thing again and then the same security guard comes out and tells me in English, which he said he didn’t speak, that the ticket machine was broken and all the shops around were closed because it was Sunday and August. He said I could get on the train, but I would risk getting fined for not having a ticket. Great, so how was I suppose to get back to Rome?! I don’t have the right phone numbers and since it took twenty minutes to get there by car I knew walking would take forever! So in my final attempt I showed the security guard my metro and bus pass that I have for the city.  He said oh yeah that will work, and asked why I was asking about a ticket? Well I didn’t know how far outside the city pass worked! But I guess I do now.  So I thank him and as I walked away I heard him and the Armenian laughing behind my back about me being Inglese. Thank you, I hear you clearly, yes I know I’m English and that I don’t know your culture yet and I’m sorry I’ve only lived here a month!

Flexibility and patience are both characteristics that are indispensable for working here in Rome.  Living in Rome as a foreigner and facing all the different cultural frustrations reminds me of how Christ compared the life of a Christian to that of a traveler in foreign lands. We are not suppose to understand the culture and people we live with because we don’t belong here. I often dislike this reference especially when people then refer to heaven to our ‘real’ home as opposed to the earth.  I think that we do belong physically here on earth but as Christians we should feel like foreigners in the sense that the world we now live in is now broken.  The grace and patience that we should extended to foreigners and travelers should be the same grace we extend to other believers. We are all foreigners trying to figure out how this broken world works. Working with believers from all different types of cultures and backgrounds on a regular basis has made this truth more evident to me.  Not only do we have work against a language barrier since English is not the first language for many people, but also the different backgrounds and ideas that each person has based on their experiences and cultures.  It’s very difficult sometimes to be patient and extend grace especially when conflicts arise and communication is difficult to begin with. But God has uniquely orchestrated this church here in Rome and it shows how everyone from every culture can come together to glorify and worship the same God who created everyone equal.  We are all travelers together through this broken world and I pray that through this journey the love of Christ would be evident in all of us because He is the only comfort for this hurting world.   

If you haven't tried to wear that many hats in a single day I would challenge you to try it! You never know how you will grow and learn from that experience. Who knows, you could end up with a story funnier than mine!