While I’d like to follow through on my intention to chronologically narrate our lives post-wedding, I’ve noticed the time has somewhat slipped away from me and what was originally striking has become rather commonplace. However, I was just thinking of a funny thing that happened about a month ago so I thought I would share it.
We are quite connected to the Cirkev Bratská church of Banská Bystrica (in fact we just had a meeting tonight about helping to run the Sunday School), and so a few weeks back when Slavo the pastor (and the man responsible for bringing us to Slovakia) told us that there would be a church camping trip for the weekend, we were happy to commit. The camp was in a city about an hour away called Ružiná, nestled on a lake and within sight of the Divin Castle. While we were there, we temporarily adopted a dog, participated in a scavenger hunt, learned about the life of Samuel, and spent quality time with some Slovak families within our church.
However, it was on the first night during worship that I was particularly struck by something. There is an older man from the church, Luboš, who is known for being a workaholic. Not just a wakes up early, works til dinner time type, but a real doesn’t go home at night because he doesn’t stop working workaholic. Most recently his work can be noted on the Poloha’s garage windows; he is repainting them to match the fence he painted a few weeks ago. (Note: all of this is of his own volition and completely unrequested) Anyway, before Slavo’s evening message we were all praising the Lord around the bonfire and Luboš caught my eye. He was picking up every stick longer than 2.5 inches in the area, but he wasn’t letting his disorder impede his ability to worship. I found it to be a real testament to his life.
Sometimes being the only Americans in the group feels a little off-putting, but Luboš was not deterred by our English and even sought to learn our language from us. He greeted us with an exuberant “Hello” every time he saw either of us and when he caught of one us without the other, he would ask a whole slew of questions (this is how I learned that UMY the word printed on our dish soap means “washing”). On one occasion I was in the kitchen with Luboš and he caught my attention with some plums, he apparently knew I’m a sucker for fruit, and rubbed his belly in a way that implied, “How do I say…” So I told him “Good” or “Nice,” and he proceeded to inquire about other English words by first pointing to his hand ( I told him “Hand”), arm (I told him “Arm”) and the process went on for the next ten or so body parts until face. He waved his hand over his face and I replied “Face” and he said as he pointed to me, “Nice face, very nice face.” I found it pretty funny.