Espinas in Miami
Over Christmas, Lisa and I and the kiddos went to Miami to celebrate with Lisa’s family. One of the highlights of the trip was spending Christmas afternoon with Lisa’s grandfather – Benito Rodriguez; ‘Papi’ as we affectionately call him.
Papi fled Cuba with his wife, and children in 1961; Christmas Day in fact. They left so much behind; extended family, friends, ministries, hopes, and a violent revolution. They landed in Miami just on the heels of St. Nick’s annual night time visit. And that’s how we found ourselves, 61 years after Papi left Cuba, in his living room listening to the stories from an seasoned refugee. Papi is a talker. He’s a storyteller. And for most of his life, he was a pastor of a local congregation made up of Cuban immigrants so he’s used to holding court, and talking about whatever is on his mind or his heart.
The other thing about Papi is that he is 100 years old and when you’re 100 years old, you have lived life-times. You have stories to tell, and wisdom to share and you have earned the right to be heard and listened to. So we listened as Papi told story, after story, after story, after story. And when he got done, he repeated a few of them just to make sure we got them. In between his stories, we’d ask him one question or another and he’d reply, “Oh now THAT’S a story!” and he’d launch into yet another round of tales – tall and otherwise.
Between the stories and the reruns, he would preach to us. He’s been retired from pastoring for a few years and doesn’t get to preach that often. Yet, we were a captive congregation, so he would preach mini sermons about Jesus’ love, and the power of the God. He would evangelize and storytell – in English and Spanish flashing back and forth so you had to keep up. At one point he launches into the parable of the seeds sown in good soil, in rocky soil, and among the thorns. It in this moment that I learned the Spanish word for thorns - ‘espinas’. The thing is, ‘espinas’ – in Cuban Spanish sounds a lot like ‘eh-peenahs’ which sounds a whole lot like ‘a penis’ in English, especially to your 11 year old daughter who is trying to track with her great grandfather’s Spanglish sermons. As soon as Papi declared that the gospel is sown among the ‘penis’, my daughter immediately looked at me with a face that registered horror, confusion, and hilarity all at once.
That Christmas afternoon, Papi gave us Christmas gifts wrapped in stories. Stories from a 100 year old saint who’d lived through world wars, revolutions, loves, births, deaths, and so much life. Stories of adventure, and faith. Stories of risk, and conflict. And ultimately, stories of a life lived to the absolute fullest imaginable. What has lingered with us since Christmas morning with Papi has been the invitation he’s extending and living out in front of us. An invitation to live a life similarly ordered around the beautiful things that matter most in life; things like passion, love, risk, adventure, faith resilience, and confidence in God’s care and provision even when the stakes are against you.
My hope is that we live into the ‘YES’ of the invitation to live a wildly full and meaningful life, even in the face hardship, revolution, and God forbid, espinas.
