The Language Barrier

Imagine yourself sitting at a desk in you high school English class--the class you must keep an A to qualify for a substantial scholarship at your college. You strain forward, eager to comprehend the topic, but you receive nothing but a garbled voice because you are in a fishbowl.

The example is absurd, but it captures how I have felt numerous times the past month. (Can it be that a month has passed already?!) The first couple weeks, people would have thought I was a parrot that had learned how to repeat, "Je ne comprends pas," over and over again. It is a substantial handicap to have to manage life without speech. During the first days, my host family had to manage affairs for me. I have felt like a baby. However, it has taught me what it feels like to have to do without essential skills.

On of the skills I lack is politeness. For example, in French, one speaks to a professor, stranger, or elder using a different set of pronouns and verbs than one commonly would to speak to a friend. How I have messed up in that area! Not trying to be rude, my ignorance can lead to impoliteness. Thankfully, students, teachers, and my family have been gracious with me and aided me. It takes so much effort to offer the respect people expect.

Integrating into another culture and language requires grace from native residents, but it is my responsibility to integrate. As an alien, I have to want it. So far, the key to succeeding has been to try. In this case, I haven't a choice: I must try the language. Sometimes, I feel as though I am a man tasked with capturing the water from a leak--only, I have a cereal bowl and the leak is the whitewater on the Niagara River. However, other moments, I realize where I am and what I am trying to do skip down the sidewalk toward the Metro stop, defying the books in my bag that are weighing me down. My French has improved tremendously, because I have made an effort. Sometimes I succeed. Often I fail. However, I'm most successful when I am honest, telling people when I don't understand, yet vying to capture their words.

Why do I try? I often don't want to; I would rather go for a walk alone, away from the awkward conversations, misunderstood directions, and childishness, but God has given me this time and it's is so fun to know that He loves it when I try. My value isn't based on how much I accomplish. That's the main reason I dance while doing dishes: I've left so much at home and feel like such a child here, handicapped by the langage barrier, but He is doing it with me and all He asks for is trust and obedience.

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Good morning Charleroi!