The Great Plate Exchange

I wiped my forehead, warm from baking all afternoon in my tiny kitchen, and grinned at the fruit of my labor—dozens of cookies. It had been a few weeks since my family arrived on the field, and my husband and I were eager to meet people and start building relationships.

I prayed as I arranged an assortment of cookies on my three nicest plates. This was an act of faith—I hoped we’d receive the plates back as confirmation of new friendships forming.

Treats in hand and baby in tow, we knocked on the door of the apartment next to ours. After a few moments, the door opened, revealing a man with short, dark hair and a beard.

Despite the language barrier, we spent the next half hour talking with them and left with plans to have lunch the next week.

“Hello,” my husband greeted the man. “We just moved in next door and wanted to meet you. We brought some cookies.”

I held out the plate.

The man grinned broadly. “I’m Taqi. Come in, please!”

We entered the apartment. Immediately, the delicious scent of local cuisine wrapped around us. A woman emerged from the kitchen, balancing a toddler on her hip. She lit up at the sight of me holding our son, who was around the same age.

“This is my wife, Aisha,” Taqi said.

My husband introduced us to them as they led us to the couch. Despite the language barrier, we spent the next half hour talking with them and left with plans to have lunch the next week.

“Wow, that went even better than I expected,” my husband said as we took another plate of goodies to the people who lived below us.

“I have a feeling we’ll be good friends,” I agreed as I knocked on the door.  

Our visits with our new friends had gone well, but I wondered if we would maintain the relationships and have the plates returned to us.

We were surprised when the landlord’s wife answered. We hadn’t known they lived directly below us.

“My goodness,” the landlady exclaimed as she scooped my son into her arms and motioned for us to come inside. “He is not wearing enough layers,” she scolded good-naturedly. “This little boy must be so cold.”

I tried to suppress my smile. Our idea of cold is very different than that of people who grew up in this desert environment.

The landlady led us and her husband into the living room to relax and disappeared around a corner with our son. She reemerged a few moments later balancing a tray laden with juice and snacks. And she had put a sweater on our son! We spent the rest of the afternoon chatting with them.

We took the final plate to a new acquaintance who owned a shop down the street. He was thrilled to receive the goodies.

Once we returned home, I glanced at the empty space in my cupboard where our three plates had sat. Our visits with our new friends had gone well, but I wondered if we would maintain the relationships and have the plates returned to us.

A few days later, I was glad to answer the door and see our new neighbor Aisha standing on the threshold.

“I thought I’d bring you some dessert.” She held out my plate with two enormous slices of cake, and a smaller one for our son.

I thanked her and took the treats, silently praising God that this sweet woman had expressed an interest in friendship with me.

One plate down, two new friends to go.

Before long, there was another knock at the door. This time, it was our landlady.

“Here is some fruit from the trees on the property,” she said, holding out bags of citrus. Tucked into one of the bags was our second plate.

I gratefully accepted the fruit. My husband and I juiced the oranges that evening as we talked about the wonderful welcome we had received into the community.

Days passed, and I wondered about the shop owner down the street. Would he reach out and want to maintain a friendship with us?

Although we were new to this culture, we had been able to initiate friendships with those around us and had been invited into the homes of our neighbors.

Finally, my husband’s phone rang. It was the shop owner.

“My fiancée made a special meal for you,” he told my husband. “Will you come pick it up?”

We slipped on our shoes and made the short trip down the street. The shop owner handed us a bag containing two loaves of bread, a plastic container that smelled of savory spices, and our plate.

As we shared the meal that night, my husband and I thanked God for the community of generous people He was already building around us. Although we were new to this culture, we had been able to initiate friendships with those around us and had been invited into the homes of our neighbors.

We pray this will lay the groundwork for opportunities to share the hope we have through Jesus Christ.

Pray:

• Praise God for bringing community around newly arrived field worker families.
• Pray that workers will build strong friendships and have many opportunities to share about Jesus.
• Ask God to open the hearts of Muslim men and women to the truth of the Gospel.