By Mary Grace Ketner
Weeks before, Blanca and her daughters Genesis and Abigail had left El Salvador. Backing out of the parking space at the Casa de Maria y Marta, Blanca asked if I was a pastora.
“Oh, dear,” I thought. “If she thinks I am a shepherdess, she is going to have trouble adjusting in this country.” But she was way ahead of me; she thought I was a pastor, a mistake I still cherish.
At the airport, what a lucky day we had! The shuttle was waiting for us in the parking garage, their tickets printed out like clockwork, the agent gave me a guest pass quickly, and security waved us right through. We arrived at our gate early and I was able to request a Spanish-speaking assistant for them at DFW where they would change planes; I showed the girls how to check the departures list, just in case.
Blanca called her sister on my phone, babbling in lively Spanish, then the girls each talked with their aunt. As Abigail finished, she handed me the phone and said that she wanted to talk to me.
“Oh, dear,” I thought. Spanish is hard for me, especially on the phone.
“Hello?” I said in English, hoping to forewarn her.
Then the woman spoke to me in perfect English!
“I cannot tell you how much it means to us that you are helping my sister get here!” she said. “We have waited and waited for this day, and we are so grateful that you are sending her to us.”
She went on and on with unrelenting generosity. You would have thought that I had tied on my cape, flown to El Salvador, lifted them up in my arms, and brought them here. She hardly took a breath, just poured out her heart.
“It was my pleasure,” I tried to say, but she wouldn’t stop for me to explain that it wasn’t just me. My eyes were filling with tears listening to her unrestrained gratitude, and my throat had tightened so that I wasn’t sure I could speak at all.
“You’re welcome,” I said weakly, still trembling from the blessing of her words. “Bye.”
But even my clumsy farewell could not spoil the sanctity of the encounter, the embrace of it, the transcendence. This family would do well in the U.S., with or without a pastora!
