It is at the top of every missionary’s list to learn the language of the native people. I looked forward to having the capability to converse with those around me with competency. I desired to develop a knowledge of the customs and build relationships. My abilities with the Spanish language consisted of knowing words like “burrito” and “taco,” so I pushed forward in my classes, having hope that it would all come together for me. Then I stopped in my tracks when I realized what a major task I faced.

I had two great hindrances in front of me: (1) Being in my fifties limited my brain capacity for learning. (2) I am a visual learner, and so far nobody has invented a way for us to see the words people speak. The challenge stood there, and I decided to take it on, because I believed that with the Lord’s help, I could do it. He did say He would give me what I needed when I responded to His call to come to Guatemala.

My hopeful venture with this foreign language soon turned into major frustration. I couldn’t hear the words, especially the verbs in their various tenses. It drove me crazy struggling to comprehend, until my head felt like it would burst. Did I have a cognitive disorder? I studied Spanish at every moment—even in my sleep. Being the “mother” for the children coming into the orphanage, I needed to be able to communicate. It encouraged me to know that people were praying for me, and I believed in miracles. If God could make a donkey talk, then He could help me learn a foreign language.

Someone told me that a person can know they are on their way to learning another language when they dream in that foreign language. I began having dreams where I could speak and understand Spanish with ease and fluency. I rejoiced! That encouragement moved me onward with more determination, and then I went downhill again. Out of my anguish, I cried out to the Lord, “Please remove this mental block.” Then a Scripture verse came into my mind, “Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit” (Zechariah 4:6). I started praying differently by putting my hands on my head, by my brain, on my ears, and on my mouth. I claimed the hearing and understanding of Spanish. I claimed that I would speak it, remember it, and use it correctly. A change occurred, and I moved forward with confidence. A load lifted from my mind.

Learning any language is a lifetime adventure. I continued to falter sometimes by totally missing the right words, but moved along with some competency. I learned to laugh with others when I said, “Yo tengo hombre” (I have man), instead of “Yo tengo hambre” (I have hunger). My friend spoke to a congregation at church and said her husband was a dog. That brought laughter, but the people knew what she meant. I pleaded with the Lord never to show me what I really said when I spoke in Spanish. I slaughtered verbs often, and some of the expressions I saw on the hearer of my words left little doubt that I said a “good one.” The Guatemalan people graciously helped me when I searched for the word I needed. I liked the teamwork approach.

After years of the above process, I found a place of peace. It’s not always about using the correct verbs and adjectives in their proper places. I’m not in a position that requires such competency, and I am grateful for that. It’s about communicating, and communication takes other forms, like body language. I also found that speaking Spanglish works great in many situations. I am at home in this country and feel comfortable with what I lack in speaking the language, but I’m open to learning more each day.