BETWEEN THE LINES: SHARING LAUGHS AND SMILES TRANSENDS LANGUAGE BARRIER

While America wrestles with its presidential problems, the rest of the world continues at its fast-clipped pace.

Asian nations are faltering on the brink of financial failure, and we have all read stories about atrocities in Kosovo, Africa and the Mideast.

It seems that no one -- from the Republicans and Democrats in Congress to the Palestinians and Israelis vying for rights in their homeland -- can live together peacefully and keep our separate identities.

Surely this isn't a new revelation. I know that world peace is far from being a reality in my lifetime. But its a dream worth trying to achieve, yet no one wants to lose their individualism in the process.

I think that after an evening among migrant families in Missouri's Bootheel, I have a better understanding of what it's like to maintain an identity without getting lost in the crowds around you.

I spent Saturday evening among Hispanic migrant workers who spoke little, if any, English. Since I spoke only as much Spanish as I'd learned in college -- which amounts to even less than what seems necessary -- I was in the minority.

Yet that didn't stop the Hispanic family from welcoming me into their humble home. They didn't mind our differences and looked for our common thread instead.

In this case it was a religious faith. I had been invited by Baptist friends in Jefferson City to attend a Bible study and get a feel for ministry among migrants in the Bootheel.

What I found is much different than what I'd imagined.

I found a family like many others in the United States trying to make ends meet. Both parents work while grandmother tends to the children and helps around the house.

It just so happens that this family is originally from Mexico and speaks little English. They work among the farm fields in the region, whether the crop is melons or cotton doesn't matter. The children, two girls ages 9 and 5 and a 2-year-old boy, are slowly learning the English language.

But the children found that being able to speak in another language isn't always the only way to communicate.

The youngest child, whose name I never did learn, discovered that a common language isn't really necessary when looking for a playmate. You just need a friendly face and apparently I fit the bill.

While his sisters, parents, grandmother and uncles chatted with the missionary in preparation for a Bible study, the child showed me nearly every toy he could find in the small mobile home.

He brought out every doll and race car he could find, setting them all beside me on the couch. I don't know if he wanted a playmate or my approval of his material possessions.

Throughout the process, he didn't speak -- he was barely old enough to form words and sentences in his native tongue, let alone converse in another language and didn't need to. A few mischievous smiles and a roll of his eyes expressed everything he wanted to say.

By way of my work as a reporter, I naively thought I had been exposed to a variety of people who represent a cross-section of our world. Simply put, I was wrong.

Sitting among the children and listening to a sermon in Spanish, I realized I had little understanding of these people or their lifestyle. There are few experiences we actually share.

Besides our faith, there is another common bond, after all. Maybe all we are really looking for in life is a playmate who approves of our toys and is willing to share a few smiles and laughs.

It's certainly not a cure to the world's ills, but it's a good place to start.

~Laura Johnston is a copy editor for the Southeast Missourian.