Miracle at Casa Esperanza

I am moved to share this story with you today.  Moved not only by the event of which I write, but by the Holy Spirit itself, which shone upon me yesterday and has changed my life forever.

Those who have known me will testify that as of late I have not been one to expound philosophically regarding matters of the spirit, let alone those pertaining to miracles.

To you I can only state that the following account is true and has been witnessed by my own ears and eyes and shared publicly here for the first time.

I, along with a partner, teach English at a small after school program known as Casa Esperanza or “House of Hope”.  My co-instructor is a woman whom I will identify here only by her first name which is Marian Wynkoop.  Marion, along with husband Tracy are good friends.  I bring this up to assure those who are curious that I indeed still to not have a domestic partner, and am still happy without one.

Wednesday's class proceeded as planned without noteworthy acceptation.  Having finished class for the day we put away our teaching tools and headed for the exit.

Marion led the way from the music room where we had just finished a wonderful sing along of the Christmas classic Feliz Navidad. 

 I lagged behind to make sure the door was securely locked.  As I proceeded toward the exit I was taken aback by the innocent beauty of the Gnobe children.  “Linda” I said as I waded through the sea of little girls.  “Linda” means pretty or cute. 

But suddenly I was disoriented.  I looked for the door which leads from the inner courtyard into the administrator’s office but it was no longer there!  I took a few more steps but still, the portal was gone.

I felt my heart pounding in my throat and visions of “Still Alice” raced through my addled brain.  What was happening?  Where was I?  I began to panic.

Then I heard Marian’s voice call out “Yoo-whoo!”  I spun around only to realize I had walked right passed the exit.

As is my habit I jumped with cartoon surprise.  It is the equivalency of a cat when they fall off the TV (Yes, I’m old) or jump in the air at their own reflection.  After the initial shock they casually lick their paw and walk off as if nothing happened.  Just like the cat, I am not fooling anybody.  But I digress.  Where was I…?  Ah, yes.  The miracle.

After pulling myself together Marian decided to stop into the office to say that we would see them next Wednesday.  That is when it happened - The Miracle at Casa Esperanza.  I was outside the office door leaning against the wall, when I heard Marion telling Elia, the program coordinator, that we'd see them next Wednesday.    Suddenly Marian exclaimed,

Not really Marian

“Miracle!?  Us?!  Oh, Gracias, grasias!  But No, YOU - you are the Miracle!”

The woman behind the desk replied, “Si, Si” Then in broken English, “Jes, here. Umm, Mierecoles!”
 

“What? Oh!,” Marian exclaimed, 

“You had a miracle here at Casa Esperanza?!”  Marian was beside herself, thrilled to be in the proximity of a miracle.

“Si, si!” Proximo Miericoles." the woman replied.  As Elia continued in Spanish, Marian, stopped her mid-sentance.

Wanting to get the details of the miracle Marian said in a loud voice (Marian thinks people who don’t speak English are deaf by nature),

“Wait, wait!  I want to get Roberto to translate!”

(This would have made sense had the administrator actually been name Roberto.  Unfortunately his name is Armando)  Surely, Roberto could fill us in on the details.

 Now from behind the desk, Elia was beginning to get excited. She started to laugh and for the first time I could hear her clearly when she said,

“Si, proximo Miercoles!  Proximo Miercoles!”

Here, I must point out that neither I nor Marian have what you might call 'strong' Spanish skills.  But, that very morning I had seen the word 'Miercoles', and I started to laugh.

 What Marian was interpreting as “Miracle in Proximity” actually means, “Next Wednesday.”

The poor woman behind the desk was just trying to agree with Marian that “Yes, yes! Next Wednesday!  We’ll see you again next Wednesday!”

The true miracle is that they want us back at all.

     Marian and I laughed until we cried.  And last night, after the lights were out and I was in bed, I started laughing again.  My dog, Betty looked up at me like I had lost my mind.  I haven't laughed like that in a long, long time.  It was like a miracle.

Amen.

DP