Last Lesson from Africa

I will miss awakening to the singing of birds. On this, our last morning in Africa, the birds are singing goodbye. Not a farewell that was planned, but one brought to us abruptly from far-off sterile board rooms… far from the singing of the birds. Far from classrooms of white smiles and singing and laughter and “asante Mwalimu”. Far from the loud passionate prayers and drums  and smells of Africa. Far from the tears of the served – the voiceless.

I think God had one last lesson to teach me in Africa… a lesson about encouragement in adversity. Our brothers and sisters here know how to look to God in adversity, because man has so often let them down. Our good friend and African colleague Jeremiah came to our house, saw my tears, and pulled me close – so un-Americanly close. He held me  as I cried and did not let go. Instead he prayed for me right in my ear –  close and long… he prayed. And I was comforted.

Before our farewell chapel the next day, I met with my choir. I selected “Keep your lamps trimmed and burning” as their final song. We prayed together . Their tears spoke their grief, but their words were not about questions or anger or unfairness – only about encouraging and comforting me.

Throughout my teaching here I have tried to encourage the asking of “why”. In this fatalistic society, where so many of the decisions that affect peoples’ lives are beyond their control, we try very much to encourage pro-activity. We want our students to think logically, and work towards change. That perspective is very much needed here.

But not today. On this day, our African brothers and sisters knew exactly what to do: comfort and encourage us. As the students filed out of chapel, nearly each one pulled us very close, hands clasped firmly in the back-and-forth African handshake among friends, whispering a chosen verse or prayer in our ears. Crushing embraces, closeness, tears, and scriptures pointing us to God and His faithfulness.

Mercy and Caroline - students in my mentorship group

For our remaining time here students kept coming to the house expressing their sadness and appreciation,  lamenting that there had been no time for a proper farewell, for a meal, for gifts – for one last shared ku-ku. But they have already given me their greatest gift: a lesson on encouragement. 

Even as students came by, my faithful helper, who had tragically lost her 15-year-old son a year earlier and knows more about adversity than I will probably ever know, was speaking to me on both practical and spiritual levels. Even while encouraging us to eat to keep up our strength, she spoke verses of God’s love and faithfulness. She could have so rightfully said, “this is nothing compared to losing a son”  but no: she simply kept reminding me of God’s love and care.

Our missionary team: Nicholases, Baltes, Baylors and Dormers, and interns Ryan and Rebecca Hodges

And… our wonderful missionary team. Did you know that a very high percentage of missionaries who leave the field prematurely do so because of discord within the missionary community? Not with this team of special, united servants of integrity. How blessed we have been to serve alongside them, and how we will miss not being a part of this team.

Board members from Tanzania and Uganda prayed with us and encouraged us.

Finally… my amazing husband. My respect and admiration of him have only grown during this difficult time. His number one motive is always positive change – never vindication or retribution. His joy and trust in the Lord never waver. And his favorite line, delivered with a twinkle in his eye, is “My Boss hasn’t fired me!” One of the students who came to visit me yesterday said of Rod… “He was a wonderful principal. He listened to us and taught us God's truths…. and he looks like Jesus!” Rod laughed so hard when I told him later the students thought he looked like Jesus.  But seriously…. in the opinion of the one who knows him best, they got it just about right.

Back to our precious African brothers and sisters…thank you for this last lesson. I hope I have learned it well, and when I am in a position to help someone who is hurting I hope I will pull them very close and whisper verses of encouragement – and though my skin is white, I will think of myself as African.