Don't Ask...

A Recap of Chile in Don't Ask sentences...

Don't ask if i wore long underwear to bed and also fuzzy socks and a hat and gloves. Because you know I did.

Don't ask if Chile has central air/heat because you know it doesn't.

Don't ask if the apartment I stayed in had hot water, because as luck would have it, it didn't.

Don't ask if I showered. Just thank God I'm a pseudo-hippie.

Don't ask if I just HAD to wash my hair at some point, and stood (after dragging the heater into the small bathroom), naked in the bathtub and washed my hair under the faucet, sucking in my breath, as I felt brain freeze (like one you get from eating ice cream too fast) - brain freeze, from the outside in and all over my head.

Don't ask how much weight I gained since all they eat in Chile is sugar, tea and bread because you know there were no veggies or fruit offered the whole time I was there.

Don't ask if I flew on more airplanes (4) than actual days I spent in Chile (2).

Don't ask if the people there believe women can be ministers and pastors.

However...

You may ask the following questions... Did the pastor accept you finally, after you preached your first sermon? Ask if he prayed for me and thanked God for me and even admitted to eating his own words as this female pastor who made such a sacrifice to come to Chile brought to them a word from God.

You may ask if the Holy Spirit communicated to the people even though I spoke in English and Raquel, my translator, spoke in Spanish. You may ask if as we spoke on top of one another, the people understood us anyway to the point that one woman came up afterwards and hadn't even realized I (the North American) hadn't been speaking Spanish.

You may ask if as the pastor (who doesn't believe woman should be pastors) prayed for me, if someone behind me put their hand on my shoulder and if in laying hands, he or she brought the Spirit of Peace upon me. You may ask if it called to mind every other time I've felt the Spirit of Peace come upon me through the hand of a compassionate soul.

You may ask if people came up to speak to me afterwards in fluent Spanish, chattering along as if I could understand even though I said, "no comprendo," over and over again. Likewise you may ask if some Chilean woman thought I was a youth that Raquel had brought in to preach and if she tried to hook me up with her teenage son. And you may ask if I unknowingly agreed to come preach at a youth conference for a church when the man was going on and on in Spanish despite my no comprendo smile and empty eyes.

You may ask if it was a blessing. You may ask if God went with me. And you may ask if I'd do it again.

And I would answer... "In a heartbeat."