“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t hate people, pastor. I think you’d be in the wrong line of work if you did!” Lizzie chuckles.
Everyone around the table joins in the laughter.
“How did you end up in Belgium?” Maria asks.
A waiter brings some grilled cinnamon-glazed pineapple to the table. The smell is so sweet, with a hint of chargrilled. Almost like a tropical autumn. Lizzie nods eagerly, asks for some more, and thanks him.
“I’m obsessed with this sugary grilled cinnamon pineapple,” she says with a smile, then continues. “I was a secretary to a financial counselor for the president of a bank here, and they told me they were thinking of offering me a job in Miami. I thought it was the perfect time to learn English, because I’ve always loved learning languages, especially because of my father’s side of the family. But then my dad asked me, ‘Why don’t you go to Belgium to learn French?’ And that kickstarted the whole process.”
I’d love to learn more about her Belgian family. From the sounds of things, it seems like there’s a story there.
“Where else have you been, Nate? You said you’ve been to Europe a few times?” Her gaze is fixed on me.
“I’ve been to Switzerland and Spain. But to be honest, that’s actually it in Europe. I’ve been able to go to a few other countries outside of Europe, though, like Israel and Egypt.”
“Wow! Israel and Egypt!” she exclaims. “I’m glad I’m a brunette—at least that should keep me off the camel trade list in Egypt!” She throws her head back and laughs, her hair shaking with it. I chuckle. Fair-skinned, blonde tourists stand out a mile in Egypt, so the joke isn’t lost on anyone.
Everyone laughs along.
I love her humor. She doesn’t seem to miss a thing, and she’s always ready with something that makes everyone else laugh, too.
“I’d like to hope I’m worth quite a few camels,” Maria adds.
“A few thousand, you’d think, right?” Lizzie chuckles.
“You’re worth an infinite amount of camels, my love,” John says, motioning to Maria.
Lizzie claps. “Top notch answer, John. You won’t be sleeping in the dog house tonight.”
“He’s too sweet to me to ever sleep anywhere but beside me,” Maria says, a look of love washing over her face.
John motions to Lizzie and stage whispers.
“I never want to risk her ire!” He points to her.
Everyone laughs, including Maria.
“Israel is on my list to one day go to,” he continues.
“Yes, I’d love to see all of the places Jesus went to!” Maria agrees.
“That was my reason for going there, and it lived up to the expectation. And reading those chapters just before I went tothose places… it gives it a whole new meaning. I feel like I’mlivingit.”
“Wow. I’d love to know what that’s like. It must feel so different to see the stories of Jesus come to life,” Lizzie adds.
“There’s nothing like it. I had been studying Luke at that point, and I tried to imagine what it would’ve been like to be one of the disciples when Jesus prayed before He was arrested. We get so caught up in life, it’s easy to forget those moments. But to feel like you’re living it out—to picture Jesus there, sweating blood and asking the Father if there might be another way than the cross… it was something else.”
There’s a beat of silence while we all contemplate this before Lizzie jumps back in.
“Someday, I’d love to see it.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” I say.
We all carry on talking for a while, bouncing back and forth with stories, experiences, and things we’d love to do one day. The conversation ebbs and flows between laughter and depth. It’s one of those nights that just feels memorable—and far too fleeting. Hours have felt like minutes. The hum of the bossa nova background music echoes our enjoyable time.
John scoots his chair back from the table and turns his head toward the dessert table, then back again.
“Guys, this has been an amazing conversation, but dessert is calling my name.”
