God Provides!
Dear
Friends,
05.17.16
The subject of this e-mail was a
suggestion of JoeAllen Yoder, and his wife thought it was a good idea. It is a
good reminder to all of us that GOD is GOOD. Following is our recorded story of
our Kenyan adventure this past Sunday.
The
morning started out beautifully, just like normal Sundays. I woke earlier than
usual so I could have quiet time to myself in the kitchen before the demands of
being a mom became too demanding. Carolyn, Clara, her sweet crew, Tiffany, and
I left for church close to an hour after Wayne and Joe left, which has been our
habit since we came. (It makes it so nice that Tiffany doesn’t need to be at
church during instruction class. The time at church is long enough the way we
have been doing it, she thinks. When Wayne and Clara take their responsibility
elsewhere, Tiffany may need to just get used to being at church a very long
time. We will cross that bridge later.) At church, Wayne announced that the
order of the service would be different that morning because he needed to go to
the Rabour church after the message to take the charge of bishop there. We had
Sunday School after the message to give him time to preach to us at Lela before
he needed to go to Rabour. He also announced that JoeAllen would close the
service, and after that Joe would go to have prayer at the funeral of an
acquaintance of the Lela church. This was news to me. We were in for a real
Kenyan adventure…
Sunday School without Wayne and Clara’s more experienced, capable selves went
as good as it could, and Joe did well with closing the service. It was not his
first time to do this. As we were shaking the last hands in the line of dear
Africans filing out of church, our attention was drawn to a commotion by the
old mission van in the church yard. A small boy was screaming loudly in pain
and a crowd was quickly gathering around him. Joe ran fast to investigate
and discovered the boys had been playing inside and outside the van, and one
little boy had his finger pinched in the door. To make the situation worse, the
door was locked, so it took a bit to get that nasty sliding door open. Dear
Sister Zilpa came to me and asked for pain relief medicine for the injured boy.
She very seriously said, “It is good for him to have it.” After some digging in
my overstuffed bag, I found chewable children’s vitamin C and adult Tylenol and
Ibuprophen. I decided right then, in Kenya, I need to carry my “nurse
bag” with me everywhere after this. I did comfort the boy by exclaiming over
his finger and giving him a vitamin C. He seemed quite pleased with my
attention. Meanwhile, the majority of the people lingered in the church yard
hoping to catch a ride to the funeral.
Carolyn
took an older member, Hesbon, home with the van while Joe and I finished
meeting the people. When she came back, Joe told Carolyn that he doesn’t mind
if she drives the van because she is more experienced with this dear old van
with its left hand stick shift. Poor Carolyn! I know how awkward it can be to
drive American men around, but she bravely stayed at the wheel. I climbed in
beside her with Tiffany, and the cramming, jamming, cracker box stacking began.
After some shuffling and discussion, we headed to the funeral with twenty
eight people on board. The funeral location was surrounded in mud and
water, due to rainy season. As we bumped along the rough road to the funeral,
that overloaded van needed to drive through water and Carolyn was afraid we
would get stuck, but the backseat drivers were telling her to keep going. She
told me, “The gas gauge shows below empty.” I began to pray and immediately I
felt peace that God was in that van with us. I told her, “God will provide.” We
arrived well at the funeral, and after the challenge of walking across logs
setting across the water and sticky mud with very helpful and kind African
mamas hanging onto my arms wanting so much to help this Mazungu mama across the
mud, we gathered around the coffin and sang good Christian Luo songs. There was
a mixture of evil and good represented at that funeral. Some wailing
hopelessly; others singing and praying. Joe read a few verses and prayed. Those
kind ladies insisted that I sit down. I preferred to stand but sat for their sakes.
After the prayer, they begged us to eat. They served the typical Kenyan meal of
beef, ugali, and sukuma. The church people ate well that day. Their
stomachs are accustomed to it. I tried, but the ugali was the color of the
tan/gray water around the place and with every bite, the grit of sand in my
teeth would take my appetite. The beef didn’t smell like my mom’s Sunday lunch
at home either, but I did enjoy the sukuma. Their hospitality was the sweetest
part of the meal. The dirty, hungry, starving dogs that insisted in squeezing
around my legs, (to my dismay), and under my chair ate well that day too.
Tiffany was very happy to feed them.
As
soon as it was appropriate to leave, Carolyn, Joe, and I, along with several
Lela church members who didn’t wish to stay for the burial, headed across the
mud once again to the van. The very helpful Africans became a little too
helpful to me in that mud and caused me to lose my balance with all the hands
pulling and pushing on me. My foot slipped off the log and I stumbled into that
thick, sticky mud losing my flip flop in the process. I quickly reached way
down and found it with my hand. The ladies insisted on washing me in a very
murky mud puddle. I was happy to head home. That van made it home without
running out of gas! PtL!
Note
from Sat., May 29:
The
above story took place two weeks ago. I have several more dramatic stories to
share in the near future. I hope to have more time to write these updates now
that our Language class is winding down. We have only two more days of class in
the coming week.
Please
pray for Joe and Gerold. They both plan to share their first sermons tomorrow
morning. We need the Lord!!! – Glenda for this Yoder family
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