They were praying. In tongues and English, both flowing effortlessly . They praised the Lord and lifted His name and agreed with each other's prayers by means of moans and groans. Stepping awkwardly in the room, I met Karen and then set my water bottle on the coffee table closest to the door. Cupping my coffee cup in both hands I listened. Closed my eyes and prayed with them: agreed in my head. I didn't know how to join. I'm not that comfortable praying out loud anyways, so to pray out loud in both tongues and English seemed. Intimidating.
It was interesting though, to hear the accents of the people in their tongue. To hear it with an English accent, that was something else. They spoke words and prophesied and prayed over others for accomodation and peace. This is all so new to me, I've kind of thrown myself in it and as I absolutely loved it, I wanted to back off as well. It's different. Different from anything I've ever willingly experienced.
After they had prayed I was given a 'Church on Campus' shirt, grey with purple block letters. The group going to the campus then congregated in the parking lot to fill our arms with booth necessities. Maddie led the way, guiding us through construction, huge mud puddles and past a huge Lutheran Church. We took a catwalk and then we were on campus and I must admit: I've never been on a campus. I was close behind them. Entering a large building full of people and booths and walls resonating music, we weaved our way to our empty table.
Representing All Nations church was such a random assortment of students. Hardly any of us knew anything about it! I stood behind the black clothed table, straightening the email sheets and replenishing the pens and cards. Others walked around, offering a free pen (card about the church attatched) and there were so, so many people.
One thing that's really slapped me in the face is the culture they have here. I, as a caucasion, almost feel like a minority sometimes which I am def. not used to. Adding to the bit of culture shock is the fact that living in the capital of Canada makes you acknowledge that French really is one of our languages. So many people speak French here! All the signs have both, and if there isn't room there's a separate sign for the French name. It took me a couple hours of wondering what Rue. St. Laurant St. meant. Rue. is the French. Yeah.
So at this booth I had a lot of observation time, as most students were avoiding the 'hallway of freedom' (everyone was handing them free pens or candy or whatever else {KD boxes}). To my left I was priviledged to have a new phone provider. As I heard his spiel I wondered how we let all those little words trick us. We hear things like, free, and we're hooked. 'You get free unlimited text messaging and free long distance, all for $45 a month!' Well. It's not really free if you're paying $45 a month now is it. (The actual price and text/long distance details have been changed because I can't actually remember.) Yet as he stood there offering all these free options, our School of the Word students were handing out cards for a free spaghetti dinner this Saturday night.
Everything's always got a string. Always. So how do you know when it doesn't? How many students won't come to that dinner because they've learned everything has a string, even churches. Some of the students took it with a smile. Some completely ignored you completely. Some walked up to the booth to find out more and others yet looked peeved that we were in their way. I know how they feel though. I'm still fairly introverted and thus one of those awkward people. If you get up in my face and shove a pamphlet at me, I'll get flustered and either blush or stutter. Or maybe blush because I stuttered. I'll take what you're handing me or not, not really looking at it, and then walk away quickly. As I'm trying to compose myself I'm hoping nobody saw that go down. Ha.
We had some yellow pens with a highlighter at the end, but after we ran out they brought us some green pens with a green highlighter at the end. I voiced that I liked those better because they seemed more like a pen with a highlighter than a highlighter with a pen. Which is absolutely more appealing. Who really wants to be handed just a highlighter.
Around noon I was shaky, feeling the affects of a tiny breakfast, but there were no replacements. No 'out for lunch, please feel free to let God find you whilst we're gone' signs. I sat and pulled out my tuna sandwich, thinking I couldn't have picked a smellier thing to eat in a crowded building. After I had finished, I stood back up and the three boys who had been handing out cards left for lunch. I felt awful because anyone coming up to the booth who spoke French was sorely disappointed. Eyes wide, head shaking I told them I couldn't understand. They frown and then walk away. A little slack please, there are TWO Canadian languages. You speak one and I speak the other, no need to be peeved.
Throughout the afternoon we handed out all the pens. Two boxes and three bags of pens. We rid ourselves of all the candy. Of all the tootsy rolls and lollies (Sam kept calling them that). Of all the cards advertising the free spaghetti dinner, and so, as our feet cried out for a break, we were left only with the cards for the church. A man came up to me. An African American, early forties. He asked if he could find a beautiful woman at the church. I wasn't sure how to respond,and besides, he was hard to understand so I said, "What?"
He says it again. Asks if he comes to this church if he will find his wife. I told him to come for God first.
"Yes," he says. "I will come for God, and then I will come for you." I was sure I heard him wrong and I'm blushing because again, I'm that awkward girl and I don't know what to do.
"Sorry?" I say with a half smile.
"I will come to this church for you," he repeats. Josh has walked up to grab more cards and so I'm looking at him for help, for some sort of reaction that would indicate the man was joking. "I'm going to come to your church to get her," says the man to Josh. Josh smiles awkwardly and then he's gone and I'm hoping this man has had his fun and will leave, but then he's turned to Ryan, who never strayed far from the booth, not wanting to carry more than three pens and three cards. He tells Ryan the same thing, asks Ryan if he's jealous. Ryan laughs. Thanks guy. Cath told me to kick you in the shins, just so you know.
The man finally leaves and the crowd thins out and everyone who's actually from Ottawa had left to go either to an interview or work. They left a girl from Saskatchewan, two guys from the UK and a guy from Michigan, all new to the city, to explain to people about this great church that none of us had never been to, nevermind locate. We bluffed our way through, giving directions and the like. I think we did well, considering. As I handed Josh the box full of garbage he asked what I would call a rubbish bin. I said a garbage can. Ryan came up (States) and said a trash can. This is going to be an interesting year. I warned them all that I pick up accents really easily and that I'm not at all making fun of them. Just to reassure them, you know?
It was so nice when it was finally time to pack up. I could not imagine doing that every day, and I wasn't even selling anything! We spent our whole first day of school at the University of Ottawa: someone else's school, and Jolene wasn't even there.
As we stepped outside it was warm and sunny: irrevocably welcome. We walked back to the office and along the way I learned that in England they don't have blocks, just landmarks, really. I wouldn't mind that. I'm much better with landmarks.
I recieved my welcome basket, as an 'out of town' student. It contained a journal for the school, a destop punching bag red man thing, a puzzle map of Canada, some loonie chocolates and bus tickets. Def. used those tickets right after that. Did you know that a bus in Ottowa is $3.25? They also have their own lane; their own highway. They are very efficient, admitted, but also VERY packed. Buses in themselves are new to me, nevermind crowded ones. Is there such a thing as bus legs? (playing on the fact that I also def. do not own sea legs) It seems custom to fall into your seat as the bus jerks away from the curb.
I stood in that bus, too short to reach the rail above my head so only hanging onto the gray plasic handle hanging down with my right hand. In my left I coddled my welcome basket, a brightly patterned garbage can of sorts, and my bag was slung over that shoulder. Protruding unpolitely from my bag was the black rain jacket I had thought I would need this morning. This is where a backpack would have come in handy, but I'm never really aware of how my dimensions change when I have a stuffed backpack on and that might get a few glares on a crowded bus...
I don't know how to act on buses. What do you say to the people? Can you say anything at all? Will they look at you weird? It's a vehicle full of people trying their best to ignore each other; avoid eye contact. We are an odd race, aren't we. It felt so good to sit when I got home. To drop my burdens rather roughly onto the floor and plop down on my bed. Of course, that didn't last long, because Katy came to pick me up and bring me to a 'girl's night out'.
That consisted of good food, warm lighting and soft background music. It was so good to realize that a group of 6 or 7 women could get together, with no men around, and not gossip. Heck, that even two women could get together and not gossip, and it wasn't that we didn't talk either. We had very lively conversations and I was so merrily welcomed, it was just lovely.
I have much more to write, but as it is I don't know how I'm still functioning on the sleep I've been getting. It's my own fault, I know, but at least you know how my first day went, right? : )
Much love lovelies.
P.S. We're going on a trip to Mediba for some team building, canoeing, zip lining and just good ol' fellowship as a student body, so I won't have time for anything until maybe Monday. You'll be ok.
No comments:
Post a Comment