important phone numbers

It was snowing as I drove to work last night. It wasn't a heavy snow, but the roads weren't plowed either, so conditions weren't great. There was a fellow walking up Rt.40 in the same direction I was driving so I stopped to pick him up.

He didn't speak much English, and my Spanish hasn't improved since I nearly failed it in college. He and I shared words to complain about the snow and the cold, and he asked if I was married or had babies, but we weren't able to communicate on an issue of great importance to both of us: where was he going? I thought he was heading to the mall, but he motioned me to drive past it. On down Rt.40 we went, and then turned around, headed back, taking turns at the wild gesturing and frustrated laughter.

Finally, he got me to stop at Hobby Lobby. I don't think that's where he was going, but at least he got to warm up a bit in my truck. He said something, and I tried to indicate that I didn't understand, which greatly disappointed him.

"You no like Mexicans?" he asked.

All my year and a half at ESR kicked in. What could be worse than accidentally representing myself as disliking someone based on ethnic group? So I replied, "no, no, I like Mexicans!"

"You like Mexicans to marry? Ella es muy bonita. My name is Jorge. Let me give number..." and he proceeded to tell me his phone number, which I promptly forgot because:
a) I don't remember phone numbers
b) I don't have a phone anyway, and
c) I didn't intend to call him.

So, I finally got to the Roadhouse, twenty minutes late. My lateness went unnoticed, because most of Richmond was panicking over the strange white stuff falling from the sky rather than coming for steak and beer. I clocked in, poured myself some coffee, and settled down on a stack of peanut boxes to read for class.

Toward the end of the first chapter, Paulsell notes that one of the most difficult of Jesus' teachings, that our helping others in need is helping him and that our ignoring others in need is ignoring him, is really an embodied command. It's about loving people in their bodies, whether they need food, clothing, shelter, or anything else.

That's all well and good, but what stood out to me was that Jesus had just told me that I was very pretty and offered me his phone number, and I hadn't even had the sense to write it down. I could have aced a prayer class with that one. Everyone else could have been labyrinth walking or chanting or whatever, and I'd just be looking for a phone...

"Hey Jesus, it's Julie. Remember me? I picked you up off the side of Rt.40 in the snow, once."
"Hm, yes, little red truck, dirty and made a lot of noise, heat was on but the fan didn't work? Am I remembering the right Julie?
"Well... yeah that's me."
"You dumped me in the Hobby Lobby parking lot because you didn't have the patience to learn my language."
"um..."
"I've got grace for the language issue, but you need to get your fan fixed. And seriously, vacuum. There's no reason to have that much hay on the floor of your truck when you live in a city.

Next time, next time I'll have paper and pen ready.