In Which I Make an Idiot of Myself

I have two friends about to set off to Haiti. Our church is also sending a team to Haiti this next month. Another friend is currently in Africa, a place I have been absolutely longing to go again. Now that I am older and have matured in my relationship with God, I want to go back to a continent I love and share fellowship with God's people there, and perhaps share the gospel and God's love with the people there who don't know Him. Every time we have missionaries come through, I have to battle with huge desire welling up within me to join them on the overseas mission field, except in Africa. But I can't. I am married, and my first priority is my husband and my darling little boy. So I am waiting. Perhaps someday, I can. Maybe I never will. It is rather hard, this waiting. In case this sounds like another depressing post, it isn't. Because I'm about to tell you about how I embarrass myself.

Last night, Scott and I were able to attend a small group meeting. We've been to the house of the hosts a few times before, but every time, small groups itself was either canceled, or people just couldn't make it. So last night, we got to meet several people whom we'd not been able to meet before. One of these people was a sweet, quiet young lady. As soon as I saw her face, I instantly snapped to attention because her features looked quite a lot like someone from Africa. My guess was confirmed when she began to speak, there was the soft African accent I was half expecting. She had come in right before we gathered around the table for the study, so there were no introductions. The entire time, I was trying hard not to look too long at her, I was absolutely thrilled she was there, and thinking how I could casually introduce my family and I to her without seeming strange.

 The study went for a long time, and at one point, a discussion came up about the sermon preached that morning. The pastor had mentioned how full of life and how in love with God many believers in third-world countries seemed to be, while we here in America often struggle with complacency and being stagnant in our walks with God. I saw my chance. Without thinking, as soon as there was an appropriate pause and a perfect opportunity, I blurted out that I had been to Malawi and been able to see just how wonderful and full of life those precious people were. I felt awkward, and my ears were hot and burning, as I kept talking, trying to stop myself with a good ending. I knew I was just trying to talk to the Kenyan across from me, trying to show her that I was interested in Africa and wanted to meet her. I must not have sounded too bad, since the rest of the group nodded seriously and took up what I had said with other examples of their own. 

Finally, around 8:20, the study wrapped up with a prayer and we began getting ready to leave to get Micah home to bed. There wasn't much time, and I badly wanted to meet the young lady, so I quickly ran up, and said,
"Hi, your name is Arafa*?"
"Yes..."
"I'm Erin, and that's my husband Scott and my son Micah!" I babbled, a little too quickly.
"Nice to meet you," She smiled slightly and shook my hand. There was a pause. Again, my mouth spoke before my mind. Slightly desperate to make some kind of conversation, and hardly able to contain my excitement, I looked at her and said,
"So, you're from KENYA?!? That's awesome!" She nodded quietly, there was another pause, and then she turned her attention to the conversation going on at the table. I came away mentally kicking and berating myself. What a moron.

I'm afraid I probably blew my chance to get to know her. I'm still feeling embarrassed as I write this. But I am so very glad she is in our small groups. Perhaps someday, she'll forget the weird, awkward introduction with which I attacked her. Someday.