Found in Translation (13 page)

I hoped the truth wouldn’t turn him against me again, but I needn’t have worried.

“Kim, I promise not to tell anyone.”

No matter how much I’d questioned his sincerity yesterday, my doubts were gone now. Rob was real, and my secret wouldn’t make me more of a prep clown than I already was.

When he continued, though, he had a new twinkle in his eye.

“Yes, Kim, better to let the rest of the team keep thinking you’re simply inept.”

“I thought you weren’t going to tell them the truth, Rob.” Laughing made me twist my arm so awkwardly it started throbbing again.

“Okay, Kim, you’ve got me on that one. I’ll lie like a rug if you prefer.”

We both laughed, although I couldn’t help noting Rob’s shameless use of one of the corniest, most unappealing clichés around. Oh, well. At his age, he’s entitled ….

“I need to tell you something, Kim—now that it’s true confessions time.”

Rob, why is your face so pale? You look scared to death. Is it that bad?

“Kim’s Confessional is now open and ready for business,” I said playfully, hoping I could help him relax. “Drop your money in the box, and don’t let me hear the sound of coins clanking unless they’re twenty-four-karat gold.”

After a moment of silence, his face returned to its natural color. Although he smiled before starting his story, his eyes no longer twinkled with merriment. Instead, they hinted of a sadness I hadn’t seen there before.

“Kim, I misjudged you yesterday when I shouldn’t have judged you at all, and I’m sorry. I thought you were just a whiny little preppy girl, afraid she’d break a fingernail doing manual labor—”

“Look.” I showed him both hands. “I cut my nails off this morning. It was like Abraham sacrificing Isaac except God didn’t intervene and stop me!” I laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I interrupted ….”

“Now I’m more impressed and feel worse still. I thought you were just making up as many excuses as you could after finding yourself in a situation you couldn’t handle. You were honest just now ….”

“Yes?” I spoke as gently as I could. I’d never had an older adult—especially a man—share his feelings with me this way. I wished my dad could be like that.

“I hoped you would go home. I wanted you to, but I couldn’t tell or ask you to. God made me give you the choice.”

“I heard you say
if
instead of
when.”

He paused. “When you chose to stay, I had to reassess my feelings about you. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Please forgive me.”

Although the ruts in the road were barely noticeable now, I thought it might be dangerous to hug Rob while he was driving. But I gave him a one-armed hug, anyhow.

“I could tell everybody else wanted me to leave, too—they probably still do. I don’t know how I’ll make things right with them.”

My left arm—the unbroken one—lay draped across the back of his neck. I sniffed once. Old Spice. My dad’s aftershave.

“I’m so sorry about my behavior,” I said. “I started out a mess, and now I’m a broken mess—in more ways than one.”

N
either of us had spoken for a number of miles.

“Wasn’t someone else from your church supposed to come on this trip?”

“Good memory, Rob.” I almost called him Pastor Rob. “Yes, my best friend, Betsy Jo Snelling. We heard about the Ciudad de Plata project at the same time and talked our parents into it later the same day. We’ve done everything together as long as I can remember ….”

“Why must women go to the bathroom in pairs?” He chuckled. “Are they afraid they can’t find their way back singly?”

“Betsy Jo and I don’t take togetherness quite that far,” I barely finished saying before breaking into a giggle. “But we do act like twins sometimes ….”

“You dress identically?” Now he was laughing, too.

“Oh, be good, Rob.”

I couldn’t guess which emotion predominated—Rob’s relief at having his confession over with or his gratitude for being forgiven of his “sin.” But together they seemed to free the little boy in him. I wished I could see that side of my dad more often.

“I’m good for nothing, Kim. At least I’m as imperfect as any other average Christian. You’ll discover that soon enough—even if I’ve fooled you till now.”

I loved laughing with Rob, but I wanted to finish telling him about Betsy Jo. I was still peeved at her parents—especially her mom—for making her cancel out. I probably wouldn’t have had any problems on this trip if she’d been along. She was my number-one guardian angel, and I was the first to admit how much I needed one.

I wanted to say, “That’s hard to believe. You seem like a great Christian.” Instead, I changed subjects. “Not to tamper with your imperfections, but I’d like to get back to Betsy Jo ….”

If he’d objected, I wouldn’t have protested. He nodded, though.

“We submitted our applications at the same time. We applied for passports at the same time, too. The church blessed our going at the same business meeting.”

Rob’s eyes twinkled, and he had a mischievous look on his face.

“No.” I shook my head. “I didn’t say they blessed us out.”

“Huh?” He looked flabbergasted. “Blessed out?”

“Where I come from, that means ‘cussed out,’” I said. “Anyhow, we became pin cushions together, getting our shots at the same time. Not just the required shots, but everything the Center for Disease Control recommended. Mr. and Mrs. Snelling insisted on that for Betsy Jo, and—”

“You really do everything together, don’t you?”

I loved listening to him laugh at a higher pitch than the bass voice he spoke in.

“We shopped together for trip supplies, including matching Bibles with Spanish on one side and English on the facing page. Oh, and wouldn’t you know it? Betsy Jo speaks great Spanish. In fact, her Spanish is better than my French, but don’t tell her I said so.”

I expected him to express frustration at almost having a translator along, but he remained silent. Unable to read his expression, I continued.

“We made a list of big things only one or the other of us needed to bring—things we could share.”

“Like that hair dryer?”

“Exactly. We were so excited about this trip and thankful it would keep us from working this—”

“What …?”

“Never mind,” I said in a more guarded tone. “I’m not up to being that honest today. I outgrew that, anyhow. Praise the Lord!”

“So why didn’t Betsy Jo come? She cancelled just before we sent out the infamous change-of-plans message. I removed her from the mailing list myself. I’m surprised her parents let her cancel after investing so much money.”

“That’s what’s so frustrating. She didn’t cancel. Her parents made her drop out. They’re so protective, especially her mom. I’m not sure Mr. Snelling agreed with his wife, but once she makes up her mind, well, that’s it.”

“Ugh! I know that type—full of well-intended ‘smother love.’”

Smother love? I’d never heard that expression before, and it took me a minute to catch on.

“Exactly. Anyhow, Pastor Ron convinced the Snellings initially that the trip would be safe, and that was quite an achievement. Betsy Jo’s parents are really big on missions, thank goodness, and this project enchanted them so much they didn’t consider possible dangers the way they usually did.”

“And it would have been safe,” Rob said without the slightest hint of uncertainty. Then he glanced at me and hesitated, his voice growing almost defensive. “It is safe! It will be …”

His voice died out for a moment. I wondered if he was praying. When he resumed, his tone was confident again. “It will continue being safe.”

At first I thought he was trying to convince himself and not me. He struck me as the kind of leader—and the rare kind of man—who insists on taking full responsibility for everyone under his care. He probably blamed himself for my accident, and what could be sillier than that?

Why should any adult have to accept responsibility for a klutz like me?

Maybe that’s why “responsible adults” seem overly serious at times. The buck stops at their door. I wondered if that was my dad’s problem. Or part of it, anyhow.

“Safe in spite of my accident this morning, you mean? I agree. But that was before Betsy Jo’s parents got on the Internet and started reading about drug wars in several Mexican border towns.”

“I’ve been following those stories, too, but that’s nowhere close to Santa María. No closer to Ciudad de Plata, either.”

“I know, and that’s what my parents pointed out. Pastor Ron, too. But the Snellings weren’t willing to take any chances. They—Mrs. Snelling, anyhow—never gave Betsy Jo’s non-refundable plane tickets a second thought, and they didn’t act like they cared about the money for the project, either. Their daughter’s health and safety was worth more than all the money in the world. They’re not wonderfully welloff, though, so getting that money back would have helped. They’re not poor or anything like that, but they didn’t have an inheritance like we did to pay for this trip.”

“I didn’t know any of this.”

I waited a minute or two to see if he would say more, but he didn’t. Apparently lost in thought, he looked lonely sitting in the driver’s seat. I almost felt guilty about breaking the silence, but I needed to finish.

“I wanted to cancel then, too. You can understand. I’m not a very experienced traveler ….”

“That part of the story sounds familiar and very, very believable.”

He didn’t sound like he was trying to be funny, although his tone was pleasant enough.

I rejoiced once more over his forgiveness of my past blunders. I felt as squeaky clean and sweet smelling as if I’d just emerged from a long soak in a spiritual bathtub.

“I was going crazy at the prospect of handling a crosscountry flight by myself, and my stomach knotted like a tightening noose as departure time came nearer. Betsy Jo and I had planned on being the same great team in Mexico we’d always been at home. How could I function without her?”

“Do you think that might have kept you from integrating into this group—if she’d come, I mean?”

Rob, you are one honest and insightful fellow.

“I’ve wondered about that. I honestly don’t know. But it’s like you said last night about flexibility in doing mission work. Now is the time to depend on God. I wasn’t ready to do that when I left home yesterday morning. I thought I’d have to do everything on my own despite my fears. If Betsy Jo had come, chances are I would have depended on her more than on God.”

“And now?”

“Now that God has grounded me—in more ways than one—my only choice is to trust and obey Him.”

W
e finally reached an intermediate-quality road.

“Rob, how am I gonna do construction with a broken arm?”

“Don’t worry about that. You still have one good arm, don’t you? We’ll find something you can do. I don’t mean busy work, either. Maybe you can hold nails for hammering. You know, try for a broken hand next.”

Rob’s laughter was infectious, but I didn’t get any warm fuzzies envisioning myself in a complete body cast by the time I got home.

“Seriously, though, you can carry small supplies to the teams or entertain the children while their parents build.”

“I’d like working with the children. Carrying small supplies would be fine, though. But they’d have to be small. I’m not that strong. Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not very coordinated, either.” We roared together at my understatement. “Or maybe you’ve figured that out.”

Rob nodded. “I’ve had my suspicions.” I wished my dad and I could have this much fun together.

“Entertaining the children would be fun, though. Although I haven’t been around kids much, I worked with some migrant children for a while this summer. I loved it.”

I decided against telling Rob the whole story.

“What, Kim? I thought you loved little kids because you’re so much like one.”

“Sometimes,” I said. I didn’t use that pensive tone of voice very often. “Not always, though. Peter Pan didn’t want to grow up, but I do—most of the time. Then I get into an adult situation and I’m petrified. Given the opportunity, I’d stick one foot in adulthood and keep the other in the territory I’m comfortable in.”

“The best of both worlds …?”

I nodded.

I started thinking about Dad. I’d probably spent too much time lamenting his resemblance to a charred steak to try finding out how tender he was inside. Maybe he’d grown up too much. I’d never considered the possibility before.

“I didn’t want to grow up,” Rob said. “I had more fun being a kid, but circumstances deflated my little-kid spirit. When I graduated from college, married my childhood sweetheart, and started a career, I became an adult against my will. I kicked and screamed the whole way, but there was no turning back.”

“Oh, my.”
Are you trying to predict my future by describing your past? Please, no. I can’t take it.
“Anyhow, count me in on babysitting or material handling or anything else you need me to do. I can be as flexible as God wants when I have a mind to be, and He’s been doing some mind surgery on me the past twenty-four hours.”

“Glad to hear that. Speaking of minds—or should I say ‘If you don’t mind … ‘?—may I talk with you about something else I’ve been thinking about since yesterday?”

“I’m listening.”

I wished talking with my parents was this easy—especially Dad—but maybe that would come when they grew more mature. I giggled to myself.

Mom was great most of the time. Dad was probably an okay guy, but—as much as I loved him—I couldn’t imagine talking like this with him. If I didn’t understand him—if I couldn’t see past the overdone exterior—he must have felt the same about me. How could he possibly understand someone who seemed so underdone?

Then again, I was still a teenager, and nobody understands teens. Not even other teens.

I guess nobody understands parents, either. Not until becoming one, that is.

“I notice you have a cell phone with you. Most teens have them now …?”

“Many. Maybe not quite most. When I got up today, I discovered that mine doesn’t work in Santa María.” I twisted my mouth in a make-believe pout.