.Who's teaching whom?.

This past week during our weekly "visit/tutoring/growth into better adults," whatever you might want to call it, during our hour of tutoring African refugees, I worked for the second time with a 29-year-old man from Congo who only has one arm (a soldier came into his home and shot him when he was 19).  The last time I worked with him he seemed very distracted and a little frustrated, but I felt much better about our second week together.  What always amazes me about these weekly classes is that as soon as the students walk in, they look for the person they worked with last, so as soon as R walked in the cafeteria he saw me, walked over, greeted me, and begin taking down the chairs for us to work at our table (we've started fist-bumping since he seems not to enjoy hand-shaking, which I like almost more!).

We sat down at a table together and I could tell he was a little worried about something.  It turned out that he had missed work because he was confused about his schedule.  I ensured him that I was sure it would be fine if he just called the place where he works and apologize.  It didn't seem to help much, but we started the night's lesson, which happened to be how to use a phone book.  I'm always amazed at how different things might seem to those who've only been here in "the good 'ol U.S. of A" for short periods of time.  A phone book is something we know from children - we know how to look up the restaurants, doctors' offices, toy stores, and yet this was something he clearly was not comfortable with.  After browsing several categories that would probably never come in handy his phone rang and he proceeded to talk to someone, courteously excusing himself from this "life skill" lesson I was trying to teach.   Before I knew it the phone had been placed near my ear and I was talking to his boss who was hurriedly rambling out his hours for the next two weeks.  I quickly jotted them down and told her that he had promised to try harder in keeping up with his hours. (But honestly, the way she was mumbling the days and times so fast I don't see how he, as an ESL speaker, could understand when I was struggling to keep up!) I don't blame him one bit!

When I gave his phone back I quickly drew boxes with the days of the week, trying desperately to draw something that looked remotely like a calendar.  He immediately turned it around to face him and said, "I like this!"  Aha! Something I could really teach him, how to keep a planner!  If that's not a "life skill," what is?  So I told him how he could mark his hours under the boxes with the days labeled at the top and even mark them off when he was done (ugh! so American - mark off the days so you'll feel like you've accomplished something).

The rest of the time was spent going over traffic signs (because he really wants to get his drivers' license) and making family trees together.  I started finding that if I didn't talk, he would just keep right on talking, telling me about his family, his life in the Congo vs. here (he loves America and American food especially) so I let him talk. He told me about one of the biggest differences he saw between America and the  Congo:"Here, war is soldier and soldier, there they come in at homes...they could come in here" and he gestured to the door.  I shuddered.  He told me how when he was 19 years old a soldier came in his home and shot him and his father - his father didn't survive.  And as if that wasn't enough, it nearly broke my heart when he said, "English is hard.  I need English friends."  He said everyone he's around speaks in another language and his mother wants to speak their language from Africa when they're home.  Then, something amazing happened...

He leaned over and asked, "Do you go to church? Man, I need to go t'church."  Technically, we're not supposed to talk about it with them - we've been warned several times not to try and "convert" them, but I was comforted knowing he was the one who asked.  I told him my husband and I do in fact go to church but that it was pretty far away from where he and his mother live.  So I told him we could come pick him up and take him to a church downtown on Saturday evening since he works on Sundays.  I just couldn't believe how serendipitous this all was.  Before he left he urged me to write down his cell number so I could call and take him to church.  I hope it all works out that we can take him, but either way, I learned so much about him and myself in that hour working with him.

I've been thinking lately how God miraculously places things in our paths so we can be prepared for them later.  I read a book when I was in college, thanks to my mother, called Left to Tell: Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust about the genocide in Rwanda, and now I'm working with these refugees who have seen and experienced things like Immaculee, and I honestly don't know if I would have known how to approach this situation, or at least I might not have felt as connected, if I hadn't read about her experience with war coming into her home and neighbors rising up against one another.  I just feel so blessed that these students are a part of my life.

And yet another blessing that I found out today: one of the other students we've been working with went in for a meeting today at our school and got a position in the LEAP program, designed for non-English speakers to take college classes and learn English along the way.  We got an email from our professor saying he was overjoyed and that he kept saying he wouldn't have this opportunity if not for this class.

"Blessed are the poor in spirt, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven...Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth...Blessed are the pure in spirit, for they shall see God..."