Zambia is located in the southern hemisphere,
so its climate is opposite that of the US.
The summer rainy season in Chipata lasts from October to April. Temperatures can exceed 100 degrees, flooding
is common, and many roads that were once brown and dusty become the perfect river
highway. Travel by any mode of
transportation other than a boat becomes impractical and even a bit dangerous. Rainfall during the winter dry season (May
through September) is negligible, totally less than 1 inch. As Mable and I walked to her home to begin
the interview, a cool breeze began to blow.
The sky looked different, and the air felt different. Robert Zulu had been correct that morning;
the weather was changing. We were also
treated to a very brief rain shower before we reached Mable’s doorstep. I was shocked! I hadn’t expected to see rainfall during my
trip, but the evidence was there on the ground.
I kept thinking about the sweetness of God’s presence, the joy that is found in serving him, and the faithfulness of his servants as we drove back to town. The new maternity ward was well on its way to being completed. The dark dinginess that shrouded the building before the work began had been overcome by white, oil-based primer and a hopefulness in the hearts of everyone involved in the project. Solar lights had been installed, more than half of the walls were primed, and the plaster on the door and window frames was drying. While I was painting, I had to shoo away a fat, 7 inch lizard that made its home near the ceiling in one of the recovery rooms and was enjoying a steady diet of spiders. Kevin and Dan were like an older and younger brother that ‘talked trash’ with me about my painting skills, and I enjoyed listening to and harmonizing with the wonderful barber shop quartet music that was being sung while we all worked.
When Kevin asked about what the Lord was doing in my heart (see the Day 6 post) my reply was, “Do you want the long or short version?” My heart was just BURSTING, so the poor guy got the long version ☺. I told him about my love for the scriptures and how the biblical accounts came alive and seemed to ‘jump off the page' as I read the bible. I would try to think like a person living in the first century who had just met Jesus and was compelled to respond to his message. Even though these missionaries didn’t need to be reminded, I rehearsed in Kevin, Dan, and Levi’s ears once again the events from the bible that recorded Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well from John 4, and the woman taken in adultery from John 8. These women were never the same after they met Christ. After being caught in the very act of adultery, humiliated, and made a public spectacle, Jesus admonished the woman from John 8 to ‘go and sin no more.’ The woman at the well had been married five times, and the man she was currently living with wasn’t her husband. As she ran back to the village to tell everyone to come and see a man who told her everything she’d ever done, can you imagine what must have been going through her mind as she reached her own home and tried to recount the events of the day to her live-in lover? Then there was the account from Acts 16 of the demon possessed damsel, who I’ve named Dami.’ Dami was a slave that was being exploited by her masters for monetary gain because of her ability to tell fortunes. Paul, the apostle, cast the demon out of her, and the bible says she was of no further use to her masters because her power was gone. Even though Dami isn’t mentioned again in scripture, I’ve often wondered what happened to her. In my mind’s eye I see her lying in a heap somewhere, bewildered and confused with no source of income and no hope.
The questions that always linger in my mind whenever I think of these women are the following: What became of them? How did they support themselves? Who came alongside to help them live out Jesus’ instruction to ‘go and sin no more?’ As I wrestled with the reality of these first century women’s broken lives, I realized there were countless thousands of women and families in the same dismal situation today. Somehow, if God would allow it, Sisterhood Of Servants would be the organization that would come alongside to offer practical assistance. The structure behind the Global Sisterhood Initiative™ takes these real life situations into account and seeks to provide solutions for those desperate to make a change in their lives. We would be a modern day Lydia ministry, modeled after the business woman in Acts 16 who loved God and his people and used her gifts and resources to minister to the needs of others. I am so thankful for faithful missionaries who teach others about the love of Christ. What a blessed privilege it was for me to come alongside faithful servants like Kevin, and Dan, and Doreen, and Mable and be a ‘hands and feet’ co-laborer that shows the love of Christ by sharing his truth and providing items as simple as school supplies, clean diapers, and fresh water. Truly God had brought me to this village for a purpose. I was so delighted and humbled to see him at work is such a great way. To God be the glory! I was weeping by the time I finished, and no one in the vehicle was speaking. All I could say through my tears was, “That is what the Lord has been doing in my heart.” Dan responded, “Well, that’s some good stuff!” We all laughed.
That night we had a lovely birthday party for Gabriella, who turned one. The Jalowiecs came over to the Pestke’s house to celebrate. During the party, we lost power, but it didn’t slow down the festivities. We opened presents and ate cupcakes by candlelight. After more than an hour of laughter and fellowship, I returned to the darkness of my cottage and waited for the power to return. There was a real chill in the air, and it finally felt like winter. The cottage didn’t have any heat, and I hadn’t thought to pack a space heater, so I was thankful when the power returned. I needed a cup of tea to warm myself up. I had intended to spend the rest of the evening preparing for my bible study time with the ladies from Big Tree Baptist scheduled for the next day. I had on two layers of winter clothes, and I was wrapped in a wool blanket but I still couldn’t get warm. I sent a couple of emails and SKYPED briefly with my family, but I was freezing the whole time. My girls laughed at my dilemma because they were burning up in the Florida sunshine. I finished my lesson preparations and went to bed. Sleep never came because every part of my body ached from the cold. I tossed and turned all night, wishing for a little body heat from Harden. Finally at about 5:30 that morning, I had an idea. I had borrowed Savannah’s iron a couple of days before. I got out of bed, plugged in the iron, and waited for it to heat up. Once it did, I threw back the blankets and ironed the sheets and the pillowcase! I put the iron on the floor and quickly jumped into the bed and pulled the covers over my head. Ahhh, I was warm at last. I fell asleep dreaming about the ‘ole days’ when people took hot water bottles to bed with them or heated up cordless irons and ironed their bedding to take the chill off the sheets just before crawling in for a long winter's nap. Praise the Lord for that hour and a half of sleep, but seven o’clock the next morning came way too soon.
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