"Сам Бог здесь, и Он ожидает наш ответ на Его присутствие" А. Тозер
или продолжение истории Марины и Фионы
An Italian predicamentWhen she finally arrived in Milan, Fiona Carr was tired from the long flight and eager to get to her hotel room. She was excited, though, for tomorrow that would bring adventure. This was her first assignment as a journalist studying cultures in different countries. As Fiona got past the hassles and bribery of the unknown world of a foreign airport, she found a cab to take her to the airport.
As the cab turned a corner, a young woman was crossing the street. The horn blazed loudly instead of brakes screeching, the driver yelled curses in Italian, maneuvering the car but failed to leave the woman unharmed. Fiona looked out her window horrified, and mad at the driver. She saw groceries flying everywhere; the pedestrian got up quickly to recover her scattered goods. The young woman was as calm as she could be. Fiona could not believe it! She yelled at the driver to stop, glad that her Italian was crisp now after six years of study. The stopped abruptly, jerking her forward, as the driver muttered something under his breath. Despite the pain in her arm from the jerk, she opened the door and told the driver to wait.
Coming to Italy was like a dream come true for Marina Serverovec. She had a perfect little family – a loving husband and their three beautiful girls. Their future held so many bright promises when Amir got the opportunity to move to Italy and work for a good company there instead of the poor Serbian one. Tears came to the woman’s eyes when she remembered her husband and their dream as she gathered her scattered goods after the taxi sent her flying off her feet. Marina’s husband was a bright young businessman at the age of 36. Italy would finally bring them to a better life that would reward all the years of hard work. The first six months were not bliss, but the family could feel the excitement of a new and better life. They all loved their new country and were quickly adapting, helping each other to learn the language better.
Now Marina just lost her husband three months ago, just six months after the move from Serbia. The 34 year old widow felt like a wounded deer fawn. She gathered the fallen potatoes and cucumbers, she felt that with the vegetables she got together her courage, determined not to cry, her arm reached for the packet with the long bread. At that moment a hurried gentle hand was by her side, picking up the beat up apples from the pavement. Marina lifted her eyes in wonder to see who that could be. A beautiful young concerned face met her gaze in a halo of bright auburn curls. The woman was in her middle twenties and looked very professional and neat. Why is she helping me?
Fiona was very sorry for the poor pedestrian and was amazed at how the young woman coped with this distress. Quietly she spoke up using her best and gentlest Italian, “Signora, please forgive us for causing this…this…predicament. The driver needed to be more careful when turning the corner. I’m very sorry…”
Marina was astonished, “Gracie,” she felt her Italian fade but quickly gathered her strength and gave Fiona a smile. “It is fine. Quite fine.” She now noticed that the young woman was a foreigner too in Italy. Italians know that drivers don’t pay attention to pedestrians. Marina smiled again thinking to herself that that girl must be American.
“Really that was rude of him to hit you like that! Let me help you carry your groceries to your home. Where do you live? I’ll pay for you to ride in my taxi.”
“Oh, that would not be necessary. I’m quite fine now.” Marina said, picked up the last bag and rose to her feet. “Thank you again. You are too kind. Thank you for helping me.”
“Signora, I insist. Please come with me. Look, you have injured your knee; surely you cannot walk this way,” exclaimed the fiery Fiona.
Marina just noticed that her knee was scraped the rough pavement, her stocking torn and bloody. “Well, if you insist…”
“Come,” Fiona opened the cab door and helped Marina get the bags into the back seat.
Once in the cab, Marina told where she lived and the car started to maneuver the tiny streets of Milan leading to a poor neighborhood where the Serverovec girls made their home. On the way the young women finally got each other’s names and found out about their native countries. Marina was a seamstress in a local small shop. Fiona could see that she was a skilled one after finding out that she sews all her and her daughters’ clothing. “That way we save money and my girls still get to wear nice things!” she laughed, pleased to have met such a nice woman in such a strange situation.
The tall apartment buildings finally stood before them. Fiona helped her new acquaintance with her groceries. They managed to get through the narrow foul smelling concrete stairs leading to the Serverovecs’ tiny room on the fifth floor. Three pretty little heads popped out the door when the women got to the flat. Fiona smiled at the shy girls, and they ran back into the room.
Finally, settled in her nice hotel room, the tired young journalist didn’t go to sleep after taking a shower, she was absorbed in her work. Fiona wrote about the incident with Marina and what she found out about the hardships of immigrants, of culture clashes, of strange traditions and of courage to live. And just a few hours ago she thought that only tomorrow would bring her adventure!
Late into the night, the light was finally turned off in Fiona’s nice smelling room and her head touched the soft pillow as the blankets caressed and snuggled her tired body. Her imagination was traveling into tomorrow, searching more adventure, seeking answers to the questions that now were raised in her mind. Tomorrow would come; she would go into the streets and find her answers in the strangest of situations.
On the other side of town, a poor little family rested in their home. Unaware of the lesson made to the journalist. The mother was glad to have met Fiona. And now she remembered that the young woman promised to visit them. Marina didn’t mind her asking questions, a lot of questions. She longed to let this burden fall from her lips. Sharing with someone makes the burden half as heavy.
Fiona and Marina both had to learn from the new friendship that was forming. Predicaments in a foreign country can lead to healing to answers and to great friendships.
An Italian predicamentWhen she finally arrived in Milan, Fiona Carr was tired from the long flight and eager to get to her hotel room. She was excited, though, for tomorrow that would bring adventure. This was her first assignment as a journalist studying cultures in different countries. As Fiona got past the hassles and bribery of the unknown world of a foreign airport, she found a cab to take her to the airport.
As the cab turned a corner, a young woman was crossing the street. The horn blazed loudly instead of brakes screeching, the driver yelled curses in Italian, maneuvering the car but failed to leave the woman unharmed. Fiona looked out her window horrified, and mad at the driver. She saw groceries flying everywhere; the pedestrian got up quickly to recover her scattered goods. The young woman was as calm as she could be. Fiona could not believe it! She yelled at the driver to stop, glad that her Italian was crisp now after six years of study. The stopped abruptly, jerking her forward, as the driver muttered something under his breath. Despite the pain in her arm from the jerk, she opened the door and told the driver to wait.
Coming to Italy was like a dream come true for Marina Serverovec. She had a perfect little family – a loving husband and their three beautiful girls. Their future held so many bright promises when Amir got the opportunity to move to Italy and work for a good company there instead of the poor Serbian one. Tears came to the woman’s eyes when she remembered her husband and their dream as she gathered her scattered goods after the taxi sent her flying off her feet. Marina’s husband was a bright young businessman at the age of 36. Italy would finally bring them to a better life that would reward all the years of hard work. The first six months were not bliss, but the family could feel the excitement of a new and better life. They all loved their new country and were quickly adapting, helping each other to learn the language better.
Now Marina just lost her husband three months ago, just six months after the move from Serbia. The 34 year old widow felt like a wounded deer fawn. She gathered the fallen potatoes and cucumbers, she felt that with the vegetables she got together her courage, determined not to cry, her arm reached for the packet with the long bread. At that moment a hurried gentle hand was by her side, picking up the beat up apples from the pavement. Marina lifted her eyes in wonder to see who that could be. A beautiful young concerned face met her gaze in a halo of bright auburn curls. The woman was in her middle twenties and looked very professional and neat. Why is she helping me?
Fiona was very sorry for the poor pedestrian and was amazed at how the young woman coped with this distress. Quietly she spoke up using her best and gentlest Italian, “Signora, please forgive us for causing this…this…predicament. The driver needed to be more careful when turning the corner. I’m very sorry…”
Marina was astonished, “Gracie,” she felt her Italian fade but quickly gathered her strength and gave Fiona a smile. “It is fine. Quite fine.” She now noticed that the young woman was a foreigner too in Italy. Italians know that drivers don’t pay attention to pedestrians. Marina smiled again thinking to herself that that girl must be American.
“Really that was rude of him to hit you like that! Let me help you carry your groceries to your home. Where do you live? I’ll pay for you to ride in my taxi.”
“Oh, that would not be necessary. I’m quite fine now.” Marina said, picked up the last bag and rose to her feet. “Thank you again. You are too kind. Thank you for helping me.”
“Signora, I insist. Please come with me. Look, you have injured your knee; surely you cannot walk this way,” exclaimed the fiery Fiona.
Marina just noticed that her knee was scraped the rough pavement, her stocking torn and bloody. “Well, if you insist…”
“Come,” Fiona opened the cab door and helped Marina get the bags into the back seat.
Once in the cab, Marina told where she lived and the car started to maneuver the tiny streets of Milan leading to a poor neighborhood where the Serverovec girls made their home. On the way the young women finally got each other’s names and found out about their native countries. Marina was a seamstress in a local small shop. Fiona could see that she was a skilled one after finding out that she sews all her and her daughters’ clothing. “That way we save money and my girls still get to wear nice things!” she laughed, pleased to have met such a nice woman in such a strange situation.
The tall apartment buildings finally stood before them. Fiona helped her new acquaintance with her groceries. They managed to get through the narrow foul smelling concrete stairs leading to the Serverovecs’ tiny room on the fifth floor. Three pretty little heads popped out the door when the women got to the flat. Fiona smiled at the shy girls, and they ran back into the room.
Finally, settled in her nice hotel room, the tired young journalist didn’t go to sleep after taking a shower, she was absorbed in her work. Fiona wrote about the incident with Marina and what she found out about the hardships of immigrants, of culture clashes, of strange traditions and of courage to live. And just a few hours ago she thought that only tomorrow would bring her adventure!
Late into the night, the light was finally turned off in Fiona’s nice smelling room and her head touched the soft pillow as the blankets caressed and snuggled her tired body. Her imagination was traveling into tomorrow, searching more adventure, seeking answers to the questions that now were raised in her mind. Tomorrow would come; she would go into the streets and find her answers in the strangest of situations.
On the other side of town, a poor little family rested in their home. Unaware of the lesson made to the journalist. The mother was glad to have met Fiona. And now she remembered that the young woman promised to visit them. Marina didn’t mind her asking questions, a lot of questions. She longed to let this burden fall from her lips. Sharing with someone makes the burden half as heavy.
Fiona and Marina both had to learn from the new friendship that was forming. Predicaments in a foreign country can lead to healing to answers and to great friendships.