what you find in Ecuadorian fritada and a game of Uno

Ecuador has been amazing.

We have been inordinately blessed this month by our ministry contact, Efrén, and his family. Last Sunday was our final Sunday in Iglesia La Luz Carapungo, and the Villavicencios invited us to lunch and fellowship at their house after the service.

We've been fortunate to spend every day of the last two weeks together with Efrén at his church while we were renovating, painting, laying carpet and other tasks. Every day at 11:00 he and his wife Monica would insist that we break for a snack usually provided to us by a member of the congregation, including homemade Ecuadorian donuts, fried plantains, and Oreo/Tres Leches cakes. We would break bread together and share stories and smiles around our circle of white lawn chairs in the middle of the worship space as we'd watch and listen to Efrén's 32-tooth laugh, the God-given antidote to any bad mood we may've arrived with. It came to be a cherished time for all of us. Even when we weren't at church we spent time together, including one Sunday walking around historic Quito with their family and our day off in Mindo, a nearby town where you can zip line and hike.

Having passed our month here growing so close to them, it was natural that we would again share a meal together after our last worship service together. 

As we entered the apartment, we were greeted by the smell of succulent pork and the sizzle of something that made my taste buds quiver. Renata, 11, took us on a tour of their rooms while Monica prepared the food that was affecting all of my senses to the point that I could barely concentrate on anything else.

It was not my own, but there was something about the Villavicencio residence that made me want to tear up, that stirred something familiar deep within me. I supposed it was the connection we had made with them, knowing it would be our last afternoon to spend with them, knowing that the sweetness we had come to know together would soon turn into the predictable bittersweet-ness that life and relationship often invoke. I shook the feeling off, not wanting to get too sentimental abnormally quickly.

Monica served us the meal – fritada, a classic Ecuadorian spread of pork, plantain, potato, cool salad, corn and beans. Words could never describe that food. As I ate (read: ravenously devoured), the feeling was there again. I observed those around me as I chewed, watching from the couch as Efrén laughed his infectious laugh at the table with Eric and Abby and Molly, his sun-kissed nose crinkling and crow's feet deepening, visible tells of a life filled with belly laughs and joy. I was near the point of tears but pushed them back when I didn't really understand the feeling for the second time.

After the meal we cleaned up the kitchen for Monica and Renata suggested that we play a game. We decided on Uno (which she ironically called "One" when she described it to me), a game that I have not played in years but remembered to be fun and simple enough. We pulled enough chairs around the table, crowded in at the elbows, and Efrén and Monica explained the rules to us. There were rules in Spanish One that are not present in English Uno so bilingually communicating them became a game in and of itself, especially when Efrén would slap a card on the pile out of turn and say, "SAP!" followed by jeering laughter. After a few turns we managed to realize what was going on (sap is actually zap, and it's the best rule ever), and we played the most hilarious game of Uno I have ever witnessed. 

Maybe it wasn't the rules that made it funny. Maybe it wasn't the raucous laughter every time someone got skipped or sapped or sent two more cards for not saying uno. Maybe it wasn't when Eric lost and Efrén tauntingly called him "the shoemaker," apparently a colloquial term for card-game losers in Ecuador. 

Likely what made it hilarious and enjoyable was the feeling I had been getting all day.
The feeling I hadn't put words to or named. 
The feeling that kept making me want to cry and laugh and dance and hug the whole world all at once.

I thought of Jesus around the table with his disciples the night he was betrayed and something he'd said.

"Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

As I sank my teeth into the warm, gooey chocolate cake that Renata and Mishelle had made for us after the card game, my eyes glistened with tears that never fully fell out. I finally knew what the feeling was that I had gotten when I walked into the house, the same feeling I had felt every day for two weeks as we managed to communicate between two languages and grow close to this beautiful family in such a short time.