BACK TO THE BUSH: Last day!

It is March 14, 2013 and I have spent my last days at bush camp. I had a lot of mixed emotions about leaving.

Outdoor shower!

   I confess mostly I was glad to be returning to a less rustic way of living. Carrying a 40 lb Jerry can of water down hill to an outdoor shower stall so I could pour cold water into a large bucket to wash off with, to stepping into an indoor shower stall and turning on the warm water; well, let’s just say it was kinda hard to teach this 64 year old grandmother a new way of doing things.

Filling up the Jerry cans!

   

(By the way, the name Jerry cans originated with the Germans during WW II. They came to be called Jerrycans which was a snide name for the German soldiers.)

 

And concerning that infamous latrine? When I walked away from that outhouse, I never looked back. And that’s all I am going to say on the subject!

              Three parts of my heart!

Of course, there were many more things I was going to miss. First and foremost was my son, grandson, and daughter in law. I was going to miss the opportunities to make memories (I’m big on that) with them. Soon, I would no longer be able to reach out and touch them physically. (Any reaching out and touching them after this would have to be accomplished electronically!)

I was going to miss getting to know the people they ministered with and ministered to. I would not get to experience watching those relationships blossom and become more dear. I would not get to watch the effect that coming to know Christ would have on new believers there. I would not get to be present when God gloriously answered prayers that I knew were heavy on the hearts of my son and his team.  

But as I prepared to leave bush camp remembering the high points and even the emotional, physical, and spiritual struggles I endured and being somewhat disappointed in myself because I did not rise above them more successfully, I did not know then that it would be after I got back home before the lessons contained within the whole of my missionary experience would begin to take root. 

So, off to base camp we ventured where I would pack up and begin my long journey home. But that wasn’t to be the final event of my stay there. For malaria was yet to strike again!

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One step forward; two steps backward, then baby steps to victory!

February 2, 2013

While I am not 100% yet (that’s gonna take awhile) I do feel I am improving.  When I ventured down to the showers later on in the day, I discovered that two of our guys had installed wooden doors.  Oh how wonderful.  Now, I didn’t have to live in fear of the wind (which was ALWAYS) blowing the curtain loose from where I had it tucked; giving whoever might be strolling by a view they weren’t counting on.

On the way back to my tukal, feeling somewhat refreshed and improved, I came upon my son and grandson sitting in the shade of one of the tukals.  Joining them was a delight. I always, always welcomed a moment to hold my grandson.  When only a few moments are allotted and it will be a few years before you get to lay eyes on each other again, these times become priceless.

Hey Dad, I’d rather look at you!

Holding on to him; holding on to a memory!

Our conversation that afternoon centered around my son’s plans about preparing for the future.  He has some well thought out ideas.  I’m especially intrigued with his future study plans which will involve living and studying for several months in a western European country.  The thought that we (my husband and I) will likely get to go visit him there thrills my very soul.  (There are some mighty delightful perks to being the mom of a missionary!)

It’s February 3, 2013

. . and my improved health has proven to be short lived.  Crawling into bed that afternoon, I noticed I had fever.  I sent word to have my son bring me some ibuprofen hoping it would relieve the aching and the fever I was in the throws of. When my son brought the medicine, I approached him about the possibility of my going home earlier than planned. ( Actually, I wanted to leave asap.)  I was feeling all of my 64 years and was beginning to think I had bitten off a lot more than I could chew.  I remember saying to my son, “You have got to get me out of here!”  To say I was in the depths of despair would only scratch the surface.

My son did not want me to make such a decision in my present weakened state.  He called my husband and after his attempt to give me a pep talk, it became painfully clear that I wasn’t going anywhere.

So I resigned myself to the reality that no matter what I had got to stick this thing out.  I had not expected things to be so difficult and I began questioning God’s purpose in allowing me to come for the length of time I had committed to.  Honestly, I was a little mad at God.  He knew what was in store for me and He didn’t intervene to change a thing to spare me this misery. (Ever been in that boat?)

Unlike everybody else in that camp, my reason for being there was mainly to make memories with my son and grandson.  But to do that successfully, I had to feel a lot better than I was.  So achieving that goal was  slightly hindered at the moment.  Very disheartening.

The fiery darts were doing a number on me.  Criticizing me for not being as spiritual as the others and as a result caving in when conditions got challenging.  Fortunately, I’ve had some good training in that regard and I was alert to what the Enemy was up to.  Basically, it all boiled down to

John 10:10

A thief comes only to steal and to kill and to destroy. 

I have come so that they may have life and have it in abundance.

I knew I had a decision to make.  I could cooperate with the thief and allow him to steal, kill and destroy, everything that God had planned for me, or I could cooperate with God and enjoy the abundance with which He was so willing to bless me.  Admittedly, it wouldn’t have been quite so hard, if I hadn’t encountered the physical challenges of the sickness, but I was there for the duration and my focus needed to change for God to get the glory and for me to experience success.

The Turning Point

My son left the tukal for awhile and returned to share with me that the camp members were gathering around my tukal to join in prayer for me.  I will never be able to describe the peace that came over me as their audible and soft words drifted around and through my tukal.  Their prayers left me feeling cared for and encouraged. The only condemnation was coming from those stinking fiery darts and believe me I was going to get a grip!

                                                         I could do this thing.

My book gives a detailed account of what fiery darts are and how to fight them.  I hope you will check out my book and its accompanying blog:

Fiery Darts: Satan’s Weapon of Choice

blog:  http://fierydarts.wordpress.com

Until next blog,