Blessings of Life

07-15-05

Sometimes life is fast, sometimes it can be at a moderate speed, but at all times it is unchangeable and ever present. If only I’d realized this sooner, before I wasted so many opportunities to better myself, to better mankind. Maybe I was in a state of confusion at not knowing what to do or a state of awe at all the people before me that had come and made themselves into kings, queens, professional athletes, celebrities, or idols; people that the world revolved around, that made a difference. Whatever it was it hindered me from developing a self-confidence to become something great. But greatness can not always be so easily detected because most of the time the things that make a difference go unnoticed by the people that were touched the most by them and the things that seem to hurt us and put us down seem to erase the kind acts received in life.

I wanted to do something for the world. But why should I? The world had done nothing for me. It had shown me cruel and hostile ways that I intended to not be apart of. I was stuck on both sides of a fence, not a comfortable position. On one side of the fence was hate and on the other pity. What had made the world so hostile, so bitter? Answers to questions I couldn’t comprehend. A loose for words I was but I knew the kindest however smallest acts in life would one day erase the uncaring acts made by eternally dying mankind. But all hope wasn’t lost because where a seed was once grown; there is still fertile soil to grow a crop again.

I grew up in a time when giving was looked down upon but receiving was highly appreciated. No one was willing to give but everyone was willing to receive. These thoughts swarmed up inside of me as I picked up the paper to see that yet another disaster, this time in London had occurred where terrorists had bombed the subway and killed or injured many innocent people. The world is falling apart I thought as I carried the paper back to my kitchen where I safely sat eating my toast and thumbing through the article seeing pictures of mangled bodies and faces. First the World Trade Center, then the Tsunami and now on top of everything London had been hit by terrorism. Places that were perceived as invincible were no longer. The term you can run but you can’t hide came to my mind. We had been running from problems such as terrorism for so long they finally caught up with us.

I sat daydreaming about something I was concerned about such as were to get my gas from today or were to take my husband to dinner tonight. But something wasn’t right, everyone including myself had grown so accustomed to tragedies that they seemed as if part of the daily routine. Only when they seized to happen would someone stop and say ‘Hey why’s the day going so great?’ But isn’t that a part of life, tragedies that is, without them how would we grow and without growing how would we learn to survive. But when so many bad things at once happen how can we aid them all at one time? We as a nation have to split our time and our attention never giving the full attention deserved to each misfortunate event. If we only grow on tragedies growing accustomed to their ways and then when a good deed comes along it will be overlooked or handled in the wrong way. Vice versa, if a person is surrounded only by good times then when a tragedy hits he will not be able to handle its’ reality.

The tea was done as the whistle on the teakettle snapped me back into reality. I was one woman living a good life in America. A stay-at-home mom with all her kids off to college and a husband who worked late nights. My love in life was now my kitten named Tricks. I wanted something more in my life then to be one of those old cat ladies. When I went to church on Sunday with my husband the preacher called for donations of missionaries going to Africa. I gave a fifty dollar check which my husband thought was outrageous and that it was all just a scam but my heart went out to the missionaries that helped children of God, find God. But I was called to do more much more so I signed up for a mission trip to Africa the month my husband was gone on a business trip to New York.

Packing was easy, all I needed was some clothes, bug spray, my bible and I also packed small stuff animals my children use to play with for the children in Africa. I was ready to leave but was not ready for what lied ahead of me. I entered Africa along with two other missionaries, Eric a painter and Diana a stay at home mom like me. We drove to the village in a jeep followed by children of all ages clinging on to the bumper. People lined the streets offering us fruit as we went by. It was the biggest welcoming party I’ve ever seen; it was as if we were in reality, celebrities. It was hard getting off the jeep because people crowded around us giving us hugs some crying. I didn’t understand what had come over them.

The shacks were made of clay and wood and some of them seemed to be sloping inward. We were placed in what must have been the nicest shack they had for it was clean inside with three cots and blankets, almost none of the other shacks had cots to sleep on or sheet to rap up in. We had fruit in baskets on the floor and necklaces made of shiny blue beads for us to wear to show that we were honored guests. At mealtime we all gathered outside of a cornfield where benches were place for my two companions and me while a thousand people of all ages and gender gathered sitting Indian style before us on the hard dry ground. They were eager and alert, the best audience I’ve ever had. Eric and Diana sat on the bench, as I was first to give my sermon. We had a translator who stood beside me and spoke to the people in their language my words. I spoke of how Jesus died on the cross to save us from our sins. I even went on to try and explain to them what sins were. These were people of giving nature who purely survived on love; sin didn’t affect them or tempt them as much as it did my nation. But I tried to explain some nodded as if knowing what a sin was while others just simply sat and watched me not blinking or moving a muscle. Diana gave her sermon on how Jesus loves us so much he gave his son to die for us on the cross. Then she went into how to be saved and except Jesus into their hearts. It was a beautiful sermon and ended with Eric telling them about how Jesus can help them change their lives if only they have faith and believe in him. Gratification came when the translators told us that three hundred people out of the thousand had come to know the Lord that night. Diana and I spent time praying the Lord’s pray with each on personally and making sure they knew what was going on in the heart while Eric passed out three hundred bibles that we had brought on the trucks to the people. It was the most thrilling experience of my life. I’ve never seen so many people touched by something I said but then again it was God using me and speaking through me that touched them, not me. I was only a tool but praise the Lord he used me as a tool, what a blessing.

We spent a month there and in that month we affected people’s lives in such life changing ways. One lady in particular touched my heart. She was a mother like me but she had seven children. Five of her children had been born with aids the other two were healthy but they could contract it later in life. Despite how sickly her children and the fact her husband had abandoned his family she was still so cheery and brought her children to the sermon every night no matter what it took. Her name was Ellie, the only woman who could speak English in the village and when I had first arrived she made sure that I had everything I needed for a comfortable stay and showed me around and introduced me to people. “A lot of families were suffering with the Aids family” she told me, “But some how I know god will get us through it.” I couldn’t believe it, they trusted so blindly but maybe I’m the blind one, I mean if anything like that happened to one of my family members the last thing I would do was pray to God. Ellie was a wise woman who tragedies but didn’t forget about the blessings as well.

Nine hundred and fifty-five people came to see the Lord the other forty-five people were babies that couldn’t even talk. We helped build two churches for the village while we were there, one on either side of the village. Not only to accommodate so many people but also to allow everyone to have less of a walking distance to go to church. The churches were strong, made of oak and had glass windows. The villagers had never seen such a sight and were so thankful to have a place of worship and even grateful for two. Two preachers were hired for each church. The village had a big feast the day we left. They killed their fattest cow; we also had goat milk, eggs, and some foods I want even venture to describe. Children came and gave me butterfly kisses as they clutched their stuff animals close to them. Women came and hugged me, some crying to see us go. Although I couldn’t understand their words there was no need for them. Words can cause wars, heartbreak, and devastation. But words of kindness don’t have to be spoken only felt by those around them.

When I got back from my mission trip I continued my daily life with my Husband and my kitten, Tricks. I was happy to be back to running water, a nice bed, and a warm meal that I knew what I was eating. I tried to tell my husband of all the exciting people I’d met, things I’d seen, and emotions I felt but all he’d ever say was ‘I’m too busy dear tell me about it later.’ I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t interested in where his wife had been for the past month. My thoughts whirled as I settled back into my daily routine of reading the paper each morning and putting a fresh pot of tea on the stove. I thumbed through it to see that yet another tragedy had occurred. Maybe it was the paper I thought, I mean there is bound to be some good things going on in the world, take my mission trip for example. Why can’t the paper put something good in it for once in a while? Everyone was so caught up and interested in what bad had happened they didn’t care if someone made a difference for the better in the world. I realized that not so long ago I had felt the same way. I had gone to change Africa but Africa had changed me. Desperation of going back to live in Africa and hide from the world flooded my mind. I began to cry. I didn’t even know why all I know is how I felt a strong desire to be around people who cared for others, who cared for me. I wiped away my tears and began to daydream again of times in Africa but then my teakettle whistled and I was snapped back, into reality.

6 Candace Holden