how did you find me?

Our area is big, and we have it divided into smaller areas. Certain days, we go to certain areas. On Saturday, the plan was San Luis, the furthest away, the most sketchy. For that, our timing is very specific. But after our english class and waiting for the mother of one student, our time window closed. We decided to head to Los Prados instead. Upon arrival, we found ourselves wandering. Something you don't want in the mission schedule. There were people, but something restrained us from speaking to them. 

We each had someone specific, but didn't know who or how. "Hermana Ortiz," I asked my companion, "¿Do you believe we have been obedient?" She looked at me puzzled, a little worried at the nature of the question. "Because if it is so, we have the right to inspiration and guidance of the spirit. You know those stories that missionaries always tell at their homecoming? This moment could be one of ours. Let's find a quiet, retired space and offer a prayer." We did so, and asked for some very specific things. Where to go, what to say. That this be the person that we needed to find. All this according to our obedience. We finished, and agreed to go toward a certain street corner. At the corner, she wanted to turn, I wanted to too, but the house on this corner caught my attention for a moment and we knocked and shouted. It appeared empty when a man of maybe 24 shouted down, asking what we wanted. I panicked, we didn't know yet! Um.... "¿Se encuentra Maria?" He told us no one in the house lived by that name. I wasn't surprised, it was just a filler. We thanked him and decided to turn where we originally thought. Strike one. 

A few houses ahead, we saw a woman seated on a step on the right side of the street. We looked at each other. HER. And approached, mostly expecting her to say that she had been waiting for us and that she wanted to be baptized and that we should tell her right this minute what she had to do. Something big. We were expecting a miracle, and that is what we got. All we got. Her name is Milagros, or miracles. But only her name. She didn't open up. Most of the conversation was made with extra effort on our part. My spiritual energy was lowering by the second. We said we had a very special message and would love to share it with her, could we start with a prayer. (For the record, most Dominicans love this. OF COURSE they always say. Not Milagros.) "No. I do not want to pray. I do not want to talk about religion. I have my religion. You are not going to change my mind." ...Okay. Strike two. How do we get out of this one kindly?

Then, we were interrupted by a young, YOUNG, father whose baby girl was about to swallow his earring. Yes earring. And tattoos. He was in a tank top and was maybe 20 years old. He interrupted for an extra hand to take the earring away. Things calmed down and we spoke a little. He learned about who we were and what we did. Then he gave us his name, Wellington, number, address, and when he was available. He said his wife would like to hear and there are many neighbors we could visit. Hermana Ortiz and I smiled at each other. "¡YES!" Then he left. When he did, Milagros violently shook her head. "He is a punk, he is lying, and that is a most dangerous area." OOOkay. Just because you aren't our miracle doesn't mean you know that about him. The conversation ended and we said goodbye. 

Walking away, pleased with what went down with Wellington, I was ready to talk to the world. I made conversation with a man carrying scriptures, on his way to bible class. Usually these people are a lot of work to carry a conversation because they already have a course, thanks. But he spoke kindly and shared what he was learning in the class. I asked how much time he had been going and if his wife went too. He said no, she still isn't christian. 

"Oh? If you'd like," I ventured, expecting an uncomfortable reply of no, "We could pay her a visit." He consented and gave us the address and directions. I took them and his name. Then asked for the name of his wife. "Maria."

We continued walking until our paths parted, and so did we. Then, after the two of us had covered a considerable distance more, in another part of the area, we saw Wellington again. he said he was going to see his wife. (turns out they're separated...) did we get his number right? NO. it is a seven not a five. "When are you coming?" "We still aren't sure. Some day during the week....""¿When?" We didn't like that he had already deceived us about his marital status and now was pushy about our timing. Real bad vibe. We said goodbye and continued walking. Disturbed. It took another bit before we could admit to each other that who we thought was our miracle was strike three. We went home dejected. 

So disappointed that Hermana Ortiz felt so guilty. Haven't we been obedient? Haven't we? I am going to be so much better. I am going to do this and that and I am not going to eat chocolate.... There were extremes. The response that came from our high expectations for a miracle and a story to tell in our homecoming talks. 

Sunday was solemn in the morning, remembering the night before. After church we went again to Los Prados, penitent. We decided to go the house of the man with the bible, Carlos. We called and a woman came. Maria? She looked a little alarmed. I must have too. MARIA! I remember  now! yesterday this was the name I asked for at that house. It wasn't that house, but had we not knocked I wouldn't have panicked and shouted a name and we wouldn't have known who we were looking for. 

She allowed us to come in when we said we met her husband yesterday. Then we entered and began. Are you ready for this? Our miracle? Carlos and Maria were baptized in 2001. They moved 6 months after to this house, there were no chapels- from any congregation- in the area. So, obviously, they were not active members. But they did name their next children Almanefi and Jose Smith. Although her husband did A LOT of talking, Maria was quiet. Until she heard there was a chapel nearby. She enthusiastically inquired its location. 

This was a big deal for me. This whole lesson. And after another long schpeal from her husband, Maria asked an inspired question.  How did you find me?

If we hadn't knocked, we wouldn't know the name, if we hadn't talked, we would have lost the time, and if we hadn't thought we were successful, I wouldn't have been brave enough to talk to Carlos. It was a miracle, really.

God knows and loves us.

We left and the first words I said to Hna Ortiz, I have seen her before. I don't remember it from this life, but i have seen her before.