Letter 23 – Grace Part 1

Grace Part 1

My Friend

They have invited me to attend the pastor’s wives retreat next month. I am not sure if I am honored by the request or not. Part of the reason they want me to go is so I can drive a group of them to the retreat center. That is fine, but I have never driven a stick shift before.

Perry started to teach me on his pinto, but this is not a pinto and these are not nice smooth roads. It is a four-wheel drive vehicle and these roads are best described as an off roaders paradise. Rough and filled with huge mud holes. It is still rainy season here and there is a huge mud hole that is at least 100 yard long that is a mile from our house in Manyeh. I have watched Perry tackle it on several occasions but it is only one of many on the 22-mile road to Makeni. After that that roads are paved.

So, with that image in mind Perry started the process of teaching me. Actually, it wasn’t so bad. Those years of driving tractors on the farm came in handy. After two weeks I felt sort of comfortable with driving, but I still saw that mud-hole and wondered how I would ever get through.

Perry and I talked, and he agreed to take a crew ahead and try to fill the worst spot with rocks and whatever else they could find. After they did that he waited and to ease my fears, drove the truck through the hole. After that I was on my own.

Surprisingly we had no problems and arrived at the retreat center. I felt pretty proud of myself.

The retreat was a great opportunity to learn more about the role of a pastor’s wife and life as a mother and wife in this country. We had great times of worship and I was able to practice my Krio with people who were very kind and patient.

Shortly after we arrived I met the pastor’s wife from one of our more remote churches in Bafodia. She had two children with her, a one year old and a two-week old baby girl with her. As we talked I learned that the baby was not her daughter but a baby her husband had rescued. The mother had died two days after giving birth and her husband had been asked to do the funeral. As they finished the funeral, the father stated that his wife was a witch and he didn’t want the baby, so the father decided that he would bury the baby with the mother. There is a lot of fear of spirits and witchcraft in this country.

Moved by compassion the pastor took the baby and his wife willingly accepted the responsibility of caring for her, knowing it would not be easy to raise two children on a pastor’s salary.  This happened only days before the pastor’s wife came to the retreat. She told me it had not been easy, and she would be happy if someone would take the baby, but no one wanted the child of a witch.  I knew I could not make that kind of commitment. Instead I gave her some money to help with the baby’s care.

Near the end of the retreat I asked if the baby had a name. The pastor’s wife said she did not have a name yet. It was very common to wait for awhile, even months, before naming a child because so many babies die in the first few months.

Then she asked me if I would like to name the baby and maybe we could use my name. I was a little surprised by the request. As I paused to decide, I was not sure I wanted to do that, but then remembered that my name means grace, so I suggested that we name the baby Grace. She had certainly been rescued by God’s grace. She smiled and happily agreed and so we named this baby rescued from the grave, Grace.

As we left the retreat and I faced all the mud and potholes, my mind was filled with thoughts about baby Grace and if I would ever see her again.

Nancy

Compassion is a critical attitude to learn and practice. How does one know when to help, when to ask others for guidance, and when to say no?