Intimidated

My reaction to arriving in Spain is different than it was 5 years ago when I arrived in Sevilla. Last time, I was enamored by the beauty of Spain and full of excitement, hope, and passion. 

This time, I'm intimidated and pretty much only intimidated.

Since my semester in Spain, I've grown and matured in so many ways. I graduated from college, I got married, and I had my first big-girl job. I've done ministry. I've shared the gospel. I've made numerous close friends from around the world. I am in every way an older and wiser human being than I was at 21.

But I'm still so intimidated. Micah and I both are intimidated, but he, the one who has never been to Spain and doesn't speak any Spanish, has an understandable reason to be.

My intimidation comes from a few factors. 

    1. Spaniards are much cooler than I am. In many ways, I feel like they are the popular crowd in middle school that I'm not qualified to talk to. I don't think they have any desire to befriend this quiet, weird American, and I'm not convinced I have any alluring quality to draw them into friendship. 

    2. My Spanish-speaking abilities are not up to par. I have been watching a Spanish drama that has increased my comprehension skills, but although I can understand most of what people are saying, I'm too terrified to open my mouth. 

    3. The spiritual climate is complicated. Having an open, authentic relationship with a Spaniard doesn't seem easy. I don't feel confident that I can contribute to our team when I don't know what I'm doing.

    4. I don't know how to live life here. Paying rent, buying groceries, paying for our phone bills, getting wifi, doing laundry, taking out the trash, and maneuvering the city are all overwhelming necessities that are beyond me. It's an overwhelming list of things we need to figure out.

All of these factors are what cause my intimidation. But while I was explaining this exact feeling to Micah in the Madrid airport, before we even arrived in Granada, a woman approached us and asked us a question in Spanish. She wanted to know where her gate was, and I was able to quickly direct her. 

Then on our first night in Granada, Micah and I were having drinks and tapas with the head of our team. Our waitress was friendly and curious about us, which isn't exactly the norm for waiters and waitresses in Spain. 

These two events gave me hope, but definitely not hope in myself. I'm still undoubtedly uncool, inept at speaking Spanish, and clueless. But life gets better when I realize it's not about me.

God will direct the opportunities, social situations, logistics, and hearts of Spaniards. I just have to follow and have hope in what He is going to do, through me and without me.