The Prodigal Joy Returns! Part 1 - Sprinkles from Above

For those of you who read the blog about our annual report at our organization’s conference (the report that Micah “wrote” and we read in front of the group), you may have been urged to pray for us with regard to joy. Those of you who prayed as such, we sincerely thank you and now ask you to celebrate with us God’s quick response. For truly, the prodigal joy has returned into our hearts. Rejoice with us as I share this chapter in the story of God’s faithfulness.

 

After all the delays in setting up the official church partnerships, the renewal of our work permit and some temporary unrest in our home area among the Gmz, we finally returned to Gesas last week Thursday, April 7^th. Wanting to jump into work on Friday, wisdom got the better of me and I instead took the long weekend to pray, plan and write letters of invitation to six Gmz guys whom I have worked with in the past. The invitation basically said that we would be in Gesas for only two and a half weeks, but that I wanted to jump into full time translation during that time. I said I would be in the new translation office at the back of the church building Monday through Friday from 8:30am-noon and the door would be open for them to join me.

 

Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect. After all the discouraging delays, I was preparing myself for four long hours of a thumb-twiddling Monday morning (since I can’t do Bible translation without them). Plus, the Gmz culture is not time-based and these guys certainly are not used to a five-day-a-week desk job. In addition, I had written the letters in my best attempt at the Gmz language, somewhat as a test and practice for their reading and comprehension skills (which are of course useful in translation). Did my message even get communicated properly? Time would tell. Sunday afternoon, I took a couple hours to organize the new translation office, which had previously just been a storage room for grain. As I pushed the 100 kilogram (that’s, 220 lbs each) sacks of grain into one corner of the room, I prayed for strength and sharpness of mind for all those involved in the translation. As I swept out the spilled grain, dust, and piles of bat and rat feces, I prayed for clean hearts and humility toward each other, the text of Scripture and the Spirit’s leading. As I fixed the padlock on the door, I prayed that God would not allow our adversary to enter and further delay nor derail the process. If there was one thing I have learned in the discouraging months leading up to this, it was that I AM NOT AT ALL IN CONTROL! If, in fact, Scripture is EVER translated into the Gmz language of Metekel Zone, it will not be my doing, but rather because the Spirit of God allowed it to be done. And so, on the eve of its birth, this project was committed into the rightful hands of the One ultimately in control. 

 

I woke up early Monday morning and attempted to suppress my excitement with pessimism, the combination of which only left me with nervousness. I tried to eat some breakfast, but found no room for food in among the butterflies busily fluttering around in there. As the big hand started its decent into the eighth hour of this new day, I slowly began gathering my things together: my work computer with an extra battery (there is no power in the translation office yet), the computer mouse, white board, markers… I nonchalantly took an opportunity to peek out our front window up toward the translation office. Nobody yet. Bibles (Amharic, English and Greek), voice recorder, water and 7 cups (which are actually empty yogurt containers)… I glanced up again. Nobody. “Ridiculous,” I thought to myself, “Who would show up for work 30 minutes early, especially in this culture?” Knowing that the office was void of any furniture I headed out to our back porch to grab a plastic table. As I passed by our bedroom, I glanced through the doorway up at the clock on the wall – 8:10. I continued out the front door and after placing the table on the ground, I slowly dusted its surface. Another hopeful glance up the hill toward the translation office and then back inside to collect some chairs. Grabbing my first load of chairs, I boomeranged a glance off the bedroom wall clock and scolded myself, “You still have fifteen minutes before you have any right to be discouraged!” But all thoughts of discouragement faded as my ears picked up the growing sound of voices…familiar voices. Exiting the front door, I looked up the hill to see five of the six guys I had invited headed straight toward my house, joking and laughing with each other. At that moment, the butterflies of nervousness escaped to who knows where and the joyless drought my life had been experiencing for some time began to feel its first sprinkles from above. “Praise God!” I thought, “Not only did my letter communicate, and not only did these guys come, but they came EARLY…ready to get started on what I whole-heartedly believe will be a life changing journey for us all!”

...Worth a Thousand Words"

Nope, not even a picture would be good enough to describe the subject of this blog: Gmz woman. Maybe a full-length video would do, but in its absence, I will attempt to capture it in words (though not quite 1000). The basic idea can be summarized in one statement: Gmz women are tough. Let me demonstrate this by sharing with you two different scenes.

First, picture in your mind two large jerry cans full of water, EACH holding the equivalent of FIVE gallons of milk. Now place those heavy jerry cans into two string pouches suspended from each end of a strong stick. Place that weighed down stick on the shoulder of a Gmz woman and you are starting to get the picture. But that is not all. Add to that load a baby pressed onto her back by a special carrier made out of cow-hide. Do you see it, feel it’s weight? Don’t forget she’s walking barefoot on gravel road, through the woods and over rocky (and hilly) paths. Oh yeah, factor in that it’s 100+ degrees in the shade! But, she’s not in the shade, she’s walking along the main road where there are no trees to block the blazing sun. Hmmm…yeah, now you’re starting to see it. But let’s also add a fun twist that I actually saw a few weeks ago. This barefoot woman is carrying the full water jugs in the hot sun but instead of her baby held snug against her back, imagine her 1+ year old riding on her hip, nursing, while the mother walks. Seeing this amazing feat, I stepped outside myself and looked back. There I was, carrying Micah, just Micah. Hmmm…maybe I better not voice my thoughts of how heavy he is getting these days!

Second, picture a woman in labor. Then again, maybe that’s a bad place to start. Picture a woman sitting quietly under a tree, holding the newest baby you’ve ever seen. Wait! Don’t miss this. How was she sitting? Quietly. One Monday morning, Micah and I sat in a dark room waiting for our weekly “Women’s Tea/Bible Study” to begin. After only a few minutes, I heard some animated chatter outside and so I went to investigate. There, sitting under a nearby tree, was a Gmz woman, holding this tiny baby. My jaw dropped as I was told the story of what had just happened. This woman, who had not been there a few minutes earlier when Micah and I arrived had apparently walked from her village 15 minutes away. She had come to request a ride into the nearby clinic, for she was in labor. She didn’t make it. Instead, she sat on the ground under a tree and without the assistance of anyone else she delivered her baby. The part that blows my mind is that I hadn’t heard anything from inside the open doorway just 10 paces away! Ok ladies, maybe you all were sitting quietly doing Sudoku during your labor but I can say that my experience with Micah was anything but quiet (and I didn’t even get to what they call “active labor,” supposedly the most painful part of the process). This Gmz woman delivered her baby without a peep and after about 20-30 minutes of rest, she stood up and walked home, accompanied only by the new baby now sleeping in her arms. Unbelievable!