esperar

I'm a logophile, a.k.a. lover of words, though some might argue that "lover of talking" is closer to the truth.

Even before I could talk, I had a lot to say. Mostly unintelligible, toddler talk. By the time I was 5, not much had changed. I still had the lung power, will power, and trouble pronouncing my R's. One day, my mom set me up with with a tape recorder and let me loose. The result, a 30-minute soundtrack recorded for "Gwandmontha" and "Gwandy." Definitely a keepsake. (Listen to the highlights)

With the exception of middle school (severe shyness=mute), the trend has continued as I've gotten older. I find myself often warning others that, "I tend to ramble." Sometimes I have trouble answering a question before the asker loses interest (beware of the wandering gaze). And when it comes to telling stories, well, I figured out long ago I better give an abridged version for my male listeners (whom I may have lost already...hang in there...esperélo)

I love talking so much that one language isn't enough. Poor Spanish speakers. Around them, my desire to converse quadruples. My vocabulary, not so much. Sometimes, believe it or not, I run out of words.

Or worse, things get lost in translation, i.e., I have yet to find the Spanish equivalent for the adjective, sketch. Example: This place is pretty sketch (a good description for any metro station across Europe including the entire city of Pisa, Italy). Much to my disappointment, saying es-ketch, does not resonate.

And then there's the "Aloha complex" (I made this up)-- when several different words in English translate to the exact same word in Spanish.

Verb, case and point: esperar

Means: To wait. To hope. To expect.

At first, I felt cheated. How can the same word be used to express, "Wait a minute," and "I hope you feel better." (Esperé un momento; Espero que te sientas mejor)

Expect too? The same word? Really?

What if I want to say, "I hope you don't expect me to wait much longer!" (Espero que no me esperes esperar mucho mas....?) Yuck.

Then, I started thinking about the last few months of my life. In many ways, a waiting period. Waiting to hear back from people, waiting to raise enough money to serve with MTW in Chile, waiting to see how God's going to provide.

But it didn't start out as waiting. Hope started it. The hope I have in Christ risen. The desire to be a vessel of that hope to people in Chile. A hope against hope that all this was possible.

I never would have had the courage to live in that hope had I not expected God to come through. Had I not banked on his perfect will and guidance.

It's all over scripture.

"Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience." Romans 8:24-25

Esperar.

"He (God) delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope, that he will deliver us again." 2 Corinthians 1:10

Esperar.

"Yes, and I will rejoice, for I know that through your prayers and the help of the Spirit of Jesus Christ this will turn out for my deliverance, as it is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." Philippians 1:19-21

The last few months, I've felt joy and fear, peace that surpasses understanding and discouragement that weasels it's way into my life. I fight it. I set my sights on Christ (though sometimes it feels like I have a lazy eye).

I hope. I wait. I expect.

They are a package deal.

One word says it all:

Esperar.

"Commit your way to the Lord; trust him and he will act...Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him." Psalm 37:5,7