“Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. There is more than enough room in my Father’s home…” John 14:1-2

Today we were invited to attend church service at Dag Hammarskjöld by Thomas Bwalya, one of our brick layers. We drove down the long drive lined with the tall, tall pines, past the high tension wires and onto the dirt road. And then we wondered – where next? We tried to call Thomas, but could not reach him. We drove a little way, and greeted a man walking down the road who, of course, said we were going the wrong way. He said to turn back and just keep going straight, straight, straight! We kept going straight and ended up at the Dag Hammarskjöld Memorial, which is a nicely kept peaceful memorial park. There were two men there who we also asked how to find Deliverance Ministries Church. They had not heard of it, but said all the churches are in the same place. Go back the way we just came from, and at the first wide dirt path, turn left and just keep going until it ends at the churches. We drove for about 2 kilometers and chose what we thought was the first wide path. Then we drove through washed out areas, our tires not really fitting the ruts worn into the path. We drove around trees and termite mounds. And finally we decided we were lost and had best go back. As we turned, the phone rang and it was Thomas, saying he could see us. We looked all around and could see nothing but the tall elephant grass and the dirt road in front and behind us. When I asked where he was, he replied “Just here, on the road.” Finally I saw the figure of a man in the distance running toward us. Thomas jumped in the car and directed us to turn back around – we had been going the right direction, just not far enough. We turned several more times, the road becoming smaller, and smaller with each turn. Finally we were winding our way around the other churches, and we arrived at the Deliverance Everngelist Pentecost Church in Zambia, where Thomas is a deacon. His three children arrived shortly, ages 2, 8 and 10. The two older ones greeted us, by the two year old hid under her older sister’s shetange, not having seen a white person before. Thomas’ wife remained at home, feeling the strain of carrying their fourth child, due next month. Thomas had built the church, using the customary mud bricks. When we entered the church we saw the off-center support was a tree which had been growing there, the top cut into a “Y” to support the cross beam. The inside of the roof was constructed of tree limbs arranged in cross-supports with heavy black plastic laid on top – a few sunny spots shining through the worn and torn areas. The outside of the roof was dried elephant grass. The benches were pieces of shaved logs nailed to round stumps which were only about eight inches off the ground. Some appearing quite wobbly, we chose one near the back which looked more secure. Thomas quickly unpacked a plastic grocery bag and set the altar. There was a white cloth which had the name of the church and John 3:16 embroidered in red on the front. After placing it on the simple wooden altar, he folded the edges on the top, and placed two small plastic bottles weighted with dirt, each containing red plastic flowers, on the front corners. Before the service began, the pastor rang on Thomas’ phone, conveying his regrets that he was out of town and unable to receive us as guests. Thomas was conducting the service today in the pastor’s absence. As we waited for the rest of those meeting today, those inside began singing in Bemba “God Show Us the Way.” Once all were congregated, we, as honored guests, were invited to sit next to the altar on upholstered stools covered with a piece of white and gold lace. Thomas sat next to us on a small wooden bench. We first rose for a prayer of forgiveness and thanksgiving. Then, much to our surprise and delight the first song was Takwaba – a song which we know well, including the motions. The congregation was taken by surprise when we joined in the singing and dancing so readily, knowing all the words. Next was a brief time of individual prayer, everyone praying and praising God out loud, in their own way. Hallelujah! Amen! The women’s choir entered the church, singing and dancing in a procession of three. They stayed in front of the altar, requesting deliverance and God’s help through their singing and dancing and hand motions. They danced back to their seats and then the youth choir was called upon. There were about fifteen young people who marched in time to the front of the church, bringing three drums made of hollowed trees covered with goat skin, and a make-shift tambourine constructed of circles of wire with metal rings in between. One of the older boys stood at the tallest drum, using the palm of his hand and a stubby wooden stick to play on the top and side of the drum. Two other boys squatted at the other two drums, playing them with both hands, and another took charge of the tambourine. Their songs were asking, “God please guide me. I am with you. Stay with me. Keep me from temptation and diseases.” Many of the women were dancing in the aisle and raising their arms in praise and worship. When the choir was finished they marched a full circle around the drums, returning to their seats, the musicians following behind, still beating the drums. Amen! There was then a prayer to prepare to receive the word of God. Today’s word was John 14:1-7 – Jesus, the way to the Father, followed by Luke 16:19-31 – the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. Thomas delivered the message in Bemba, so I’m not sure what it was, but it was followed by Amen! And clapping. Then the offering was accepted at the altar. Two small tin bowls were placed on either side, and while the choir sang, each individual brought their gift forward as the Spirit moved them. Thomas stepped forward and spoke a few words. The choir began singing, and slowly people knelt before the altar or placed their babies in his arms. Each leaned forward to whisper their specific need for physical healing in his ear. Thomas placed his right hand on their forehead, raised his left hand to heaven and prayed. After this we heard announcements: today’s collection was K46,450 (a little less than $12), the number in attendance was 62, and we were welcomed as visitors followed by Amen! And clapping. After the closing prayer we followed Thomas outside where we were greeted by each person in attendance. There was one little girl, about seven years old, dressed in a frilly white dress, a little torn and tattered, wearing a denim baseball cap who just stared at us with her big brown eyes. Ron reached out his hand to her, and she hid. But there was another girl a bit younger, Priscilla, who was watching. When the other child hid, she immediately rushed forward smiling, and placed her tiny little hand in Ron’s, followed by a respectful curtsey. It was too sweet for words. After a little fellowship, and Ron and I singing Takwaba with part of the choir again, Thomas said we were going to his house to eat chicken. He apologized over and over that there was no mealie meal to prepare nshima, as this is the traditional welcoming food. We arrived at his home which he built in 2004, set back a little way from the road, behind a few banana trees which he said produce fruit for five or six months, mango trees with the fruit just ripening and a field of long-ago harvested maize. A very nice plot and home. He explained there is one room in his home reserved for the chickens they raise. His wife, Sylvia was there waiting, but still not feeling well, obviously very uncomfortable. And then Thomas started chasing the chickens, calling to his 8 year old son to help him. He finally caught one, holding its wings together, and then using a piece of string from a grain bag, tied it’s feet together. And as you may have guessed from the picture, since there was nothing prepared for us to eat, the chicken became my gift! What a tremendous honor. A truly extraordinary Sunday!

Friday I visited the homes of fourteen of the children attending George OMNI School. Classes don’t actually begin until Monday, so we set off as an interesting caravan – Godfridah, Ms. Masumba, myself, and about twenty-five of the younger children, all walking through the village from house to house. The school is in about the middle of the village, so we began on the right side, our first stop being the home of Judith Nakaonga. She is 8 years old, currently in grade 1, and she wants to be a teacher when she grows up. She is cared for by her stepmother and her father. She has two sisters, one older, one younger. The older girl, Georgina, attends Twapia School, and the younger sister at age 5 isn’t yet old enough for school. They remain fairly healthy, except for malaria and icifuba (coughing). They usually eat twice a day, sometimes only once. When I asked the stepmother if she had any questions or anything she would like to talk about, all she could say was Twatotella (thank you). She is grateful for the opportunity Judith has to receive an education, school books, a meal every day, a uniform and shoes – all without any fees. If there were fees, they would not be able to send both children to school. Her only request was that OMNI please continue educating the children at George so they can have the opportunity for a better life. This was fairly typical of all the home visits. Some children are cared for by a grandparent or another relative, some homes have seven or eight children, some siblings do not live in the same home, but most of the other circumstances remain constant – there is little or no income for the family and there are only one or two meals most days. And there is genuine gratitude for the education and daily meal their children receive. It was interesting walking through the village, being greeted by people everywhere, not just parents and guardians. It was humbling to see where our children live – to witness the undeniable love of an aging grandmother caring for her orphaned five year old granddaughter and two year old grandson – a widow raising five children, three of which are grandchildren she took because they were always sick when they lived with the mother, the youngest only two years old. I saw clean homes, with very little furnishings, front yards where the dirt had been swept clean, and sincere concern for their children’s future. This was no different for the home I visited where Rosa, the oldest child at 14 years is the head of the household. The father is still living, but is usually gone, I was told, “looking for food.” He cannot find steady employment and is constantly in search of some type of piece work, or molding bricks, which oftentimes takes him to other towns. Rosa is quite the young woman, accepting full responsibility for the care of her two younger siblings and the household duties. It is humbling to witness their strength. Their hands may be tired, but there is no weakness.

P.S. It was very, very difficult, but the chicken remained with Thomas and his family. It really very nearly broke my heart, knowing this was all Thomas could offer us. After holding the chicken for about thirty minutes, tears welling in my eyes, I finally had to tell him it hurt me not to be able to take the chicken, and that I will never, ever forget this lovely gift from his heart. We explained as graciously as possible that we couldn’t take a live chicken to Setanga Lodge. If we were living at George, we would have been all set! Thomas, of course, understood.