Bean and I often marvel at the way we’ve developed our own language with Jenny. She understands our Spanish like no one else does. She barely speaks a word of English, so we’ve been forced to push through again and again. She listens to our mangled words and criminal grammar and gently extracts the meaning we were going for from the start.

Of course, we know her Spanish, too. I’m continually surprised at the way that knowing somebody’s voice makes them so much easier to understand. I may not have mastered this language yet, but I’m fluent in Jenny. I’m also proficient in American voices speaking Spanish.

Today at lunch, our server saw our Bibles spread across the table and came over to investigate. He ended up sitting down with us for a couple of minutes to see what we were doing. He studies at a university where we had an active presence at the beginning of the year. I told him I’d hook him up with some of the students who are still a part of that ministry. We talked easily with the help of Jenny, our Spanish to Spanish translator. He’d say something, speaking quickly, slurring his words. I’d look to Jenny for help. She’d repeat his words in Spanish slowly and clearly. I’d answer in mostly functional Spanish with a few grammatical quirks. She’d repeat what I said in a form that was nearly unrecognizable, meaning grammatically correct.

I was reminded of the kids I babysit. There is a certain stage of toddler-hood where language explodes. Kids start connecting all those meanings in their heads to actual sounds. The language that comes out is ostensibly English, but only just barely. Jenny is like the mother who can take a string of nonsense sounds and tell the waiter that her child is asking for juice. Or, you know, that Vida Estudiantil used to have a semi-active ministry on the campus where you study and we’d love to get your information and help you find a spiritual community on campus.