The Fish

I got paid on Wednesday. The check went into my pocket. I got to Sharells house and the check came out of my pocket. I left Sharells house and the check went back into the pocket.

Thursday Afternoon I was on my way to the bank and was getting my money out while at a red light.... I didnt see my check in my wallet or purse. "Where is it I thought?" So I went home. It was not there. I called Sharell, It was not at her house. I went back to my car .... nope. Back to the house. Nope. I got a little aggrivated because I kinda, you know, needed the check. I was anoyed but knew that one of two things would happen: I would not find the check, and have to deal with it, or God will bring it to me.

Friday morning I woke up and immediatly thought of my check.

"God, it would be really cool if you could bring my check to me today."

"Look under your bed."

"What?"

"Look Under your bed."

"Ya, but God, I how would it be under the bed? I didn't even -----"

"How did the coin get in the mouth of the fish? Look under the bed."

So I discontinued my arguing, pushed my warm blankets off and got down on the ground. I reached under my bed (and mind you I don't put things under my bed, I have my suitcases and shoes... but not stuff.... and I hadn't put any bags away in the past 2 days) and moved a bag, under it was the crumpled up check. I just started laughing. How did the coin get into the mouth of the fish? ( Matthew 17:27) Well Just the same way my check got put under my bed... God put it there.

Lets just say it was a really good way to start the day.

Gypsies.

A group of people started to walk into our resturant and the employees inside started to freak out. A murmor of wispers and arrows shooting looks were crossing tables and invisable sound barriers....

"Do you see who is coming in?"

"OH my gosh they had better not be coming in here."

"Seriously, do you remember last time they were here?"

"If you seat them in my section I will seriously kill you."

"Its the gypsies, urghhh, their so rude."

"You had better remind them that 15% gertuity IS included and we CANT change it."

"Their so loud."

..........................................

And blah blah blah. I was so tired of hearing the gosip. And it was gosip. They were telling assumptions and spreading them as truth. Through the doors a minute later walked in a large group of gypsies. Not the skirt wearing, tamborine carrying traveling gypsies like out of the old story books, but like the nationality, the group of people based out of Eastern Europe Gypsies... the group of peple I spent 3 months hanging out with last winter.

The little girls were beautiful and I immediatly felt myself drifting back to Bulgaria, where we spent countless days crammed in churches with children whose faces so directly resmebeled those of the girls smiling and laughing in front of me. The women were classy, petite and mission oriented. The husbands were happy, comftorable and domineering. I led them back to their table and talked and joked with them aside from jeering stares from my co-workers.

"I am to inform you that there is a 15% gertuity added onto your bill tonight for having a party of 8 or more." I said dreadedly through smiling gritted teeth.

"Not where I come from," the obvious leader of the group laughingly said to me. I laughed it off, shared a final word with the girls, and walked off to face the gossip once again. I pretty much shut out the story that was lunged upon me about what our resturant "thinks of this group." It was such a bad attitude, it was racist.... I didnt know racisim was so alive still. I didnt get a chance to tell anyone that I hung out with gypsies... and mabye we need to understand a little more of their culture, and maybe we need to extend a hand of graciousness and compassion and willingness to learn. I didnt get the chance, but I should have made one. I hope they come in again. I want to know the origin of their accent, I want to tell people that I dont see them as scum.... I want to know how anyone could think that anyway.... is it just easier to pick on someone? Seriously.

All I know is that the gypsies I have met have changed my life. My weeks in Bulgaria are my fondest of my trip, the hands extended to me during that christmas season weakened me to my knees as I learned how little of hospitality I really understood. I love their simplicity and culture and life.... I was reminded to pray for the missionaries in Greece who have devoted their life to a small group of 42 gypsies who are slowing learning to follow God, to not leave their culture, but to let God chance the bad parts of it. I just..... I just want people to know.