It was her eyes. Beautiful, brown, tired eyes. She greeted everyone who walked through the door, but few noticed her and less acknowledged her welcome into the hotel dining room.
I wondered how they would’ve treated her if she was their mother, aunt, or sister. But she was a practical adornment. An ornate key hook, an antique table, a face to clean tables when visitors complete a meal.
She scrurried from table to table to pickup dishes, wipe down tables, and put out clean settings. As she drew near to my table, she asked me if she could remove my plate. I tried making a joke about the mess I’d made. It was funny. But my humor was lost in translation; a courtesy laugh, tilted head, and slow nod proved it.
I asked her name. I asked where she was from. I invited her to be more than a key hook, coffee table or brown face. It was then I saw something in her eyes. Her beautiful, brown, tired eyes. At the table she spoke to me and her eyes danced with excitement as she told me where she was from in her native language. She smiled as she spoke about far away places I could see in her eyes. Her beautiful, brown, tired eyes.
Luz Maria and I had a moment in the dining area. She wasn’t a table server or door attendee. She was human. She was a mother, aunt, and sister. She recalled a funny story and lost me before the punch line because she was speaking too fast. I laughed a courtesy laugh, tilted my head, and nodded. Some things might be lost in translation, but loving like Christ is a language everyone speaks.
As we arose from the table, I remembered a quote from a book I read. Jesus’ method doesn’t require doing something, but being someone. Now I want to live it out.