Today saw the return of the Chapel team from Mozambique.
That looks so simple when I read it on the screen in front of me. They were gone. Now they are home. Months from now these twelve days will in some ways seem like twelve minutes and in others twelve weeks. Melisa has started to unscroll the information she has had packed in to her mental compartments over the time of the trip, but also from the weeks of preparation leading up to it. Some of it comes to the surface like big masses of bubbles escaping from an underwater tank. Others have come like a single small bubble wobbling slowly up.
Relationships. She has told of the teaching times when the women laughed because we keep fish in a tank. They wanted to know if we keep them there until they are big enough to eat. They found it comical that we had a cat in the house that is named Tiger. Now, they know tigers. They wanted to know if Melisa works in the fields, like they do. They could not understand why she’d want to work in a building or how she could eat if she did not grow food in a field. They could not grasp the concept of buying food grown by a farmer who sold it to another person, who sold it to her.
Heat. She said the heat in Mozambique at this time of year is oppressive. Many days were nearly 100 degrees F. This affected everything the team did, but they adapted and pressed on with the work they went to Africa to do. At the airport in Maputo last night, there was one departure. The plane our team was on heading for Lisbon, Portugal. Our faithful travelers were the last people on the aircraft from what had been a packed terminal sweltering in 100 degree heat at 11:00 p.m. Oh, in case you were wondering…there was no air conditioning.
Brass instruments. The team performed concerts in villages and in church last Sunday, and at a facility last evening in Maputo. Apart from the last venue, most people for whom they played had never heard a trumpet or any brass instrument being played. So, you want to bring out a village crowd? Have a bunch of white people from America show up after dark, arrange them under a tree and have them start to play some four piece brass song. That’ll work every time. Each time this was done, team leader Jim Mitchell also spoke about why the team had come to Africa, about how much Jesus loved the people in those villages and about what He had done to procure their salvation. Melisa said the people were enthusiastic and receptive.
Disbelief. One woman in Melisa’s teaching time had not attended such sessions in past visits by teams from The Chapel. She wanted to know why these white people would want to come to spend time with, as she said it, black people. She said, “There must be something different about you.” So true.
The boy. One boy, about four or five years old, had been rescued from an orphanage in a terribly malnourished state. He was so weak and sick his naturally black hair had started to turn burnt orange. During the times he spent with the women from the team, Melisa observed that he never cried or complained. When she asked one of the local women why not, she was told that this child was near death when he was brought out of the orphanage. He’d probably cried the first two years of his life. She said, “Suffering makes little ones mature quickly.”
The walk. One day, Melisa and two other team members went for a walk. The village children were so intrigued or in need that they followed along. Melisa said at one point, she had five children holding her hand, one child to each finger. Two other kids repeatedly stroked her arm as she walked with them. Their parents were working in the fields. The kids trusted the visitors.
The girls were very excited to see their mom come home. After people started exiting Concourse C at Hopkins Airport, one of them said he’d come from the Newark flight. The girls stood at the verge of the “Do Not Enter” hallway, waiting. When Mom stepped into view, all three let out a scream of joy and folded up into a long group hug. So nice.
We often lose sight of how much those we love mean to us when we have them every day. The truth is, there is no guarantee we’ll get another “every day” sort of day. Thus, we relish our reunions and dread our next separation.
I’ll try to write more of the trip as I learn of it from my dear bride.
