Part II: If i can be a missionary, anyone can!

Three months after arriving in then Zaire, Africa, we were ready to go on to the mission station of Nkara. Staying with the Voths for almost two months cemented our friendship til today. We love them dearly and, though they would never take any credit for helping our agonizing souls hold on and brace ourselves for what was ahead, the Lord knows how much of a Godsend they were. We so love you, Jody and Lee.

I will back track a little. During the 7 weeks we were privileged to begin the acclimation process to a third-world country in a state of the art home like the Voths were blessed with, we experienced some wonderful times. The first one was to meet other crazies like ourselves who decided to serve God in Africa. There were several MAF families there who to this day hold a special place in our hearts, plus a missionary couple, Jim and Dawn Sawatsky, a peace corp gal at the time by the name of Sharon Kenna, who later would come to live on our mission campus for a year, Wayne and Sylvia Turner, Jim and Sue Comer, Gary and Sharon Wagner (MAF), Bob and Carol Fish (Carol would later be instrumental in saving Shawn's life), and others whose names do not come to mind right now.

Since I felt like we had moved to Mars, I just didn't know if I could cope, and so one day early on, Jody sent me to the home of a couple I cannot for the life of me recall as far as their names are concerned. Their faces are brilliantly clear though. I remember sitting on the couch, asking this missionary wife if I could go in with her on a food shipment from South Africa. All that was available on the shelves in the capital city at that time were flour and tomato paste. The president had pretty much made it clear that x-patriot businessmen were not welcomed in Kinshasa, so limited availability of supplies, such as food and everything else really, made it necessary to order goods from South Africa.

Ah, her name was Jeanie and, after discussing the logistics of sharing an order, I looked at her straight in her eyes and asked, "How do you cope?" Rather surprised by my question, she said, "I beg your pardon?" So I said it again. "How do you cope?" and began crying. She came over on the couch and comforted me. Here was a woman who flight followed her MAF pilot husband everyday, seemed content and even happy to be there, and I was sure she could give me some secrets to how she maintained her sanity. She assured me I could do this. I didn't believe her.

On Wednesday nights the missionary community and whomever else desired rotated attending homes to eat wonderful food I would miss terribly once we went into the Interior, encourage each other by sharing their frustrations, testify of the grace of God in their lives, and pray together. Every Friday morning, Dawn Sawatsky opened up her home to anyone who wanted to pray and seek God's face. I so looked forward to Wednesdays and Fridays; and then on Monday nights, there was Bible study to attend at the Voths, which Jim often led, and Sunday we gathered at the International Church of Kinshasa to worship together. Life became bearable because of people sold out to God willing to share their lives with me. I settled into a pleasant routine, knowing it would come to an end soon enough.

That "end" seemingly came after about 5 weeks when we thought we were ready to leave for Nkara. All our bags were packed, and missing Jody before I even got out the door, I feigned courage to say good bye and climbed into the car that would take us to board an MAF plane and fly to Kikwit for the next stage of our life in Africa, since there was no airstrip at Nkara. Kikwit was 60 miles south of Nkara, and we would fly there first to make arrangements to drive to Nkara. As we pulled out of Voths' driveway, Jody smiled and said, "I won't change the sheets til I hear you have safely landed in Kikwit."

After driving all the way to the MAF hangar, when we passed through the gates, we were told we lacked one document needed to clear passage into the Interior. What? You're kidding, right? No., no one was kidding. Back into the car we climbed and drove back to the Voths. Jody had not changed the sheets. She knew life in Congo all too well.

That night at the supper table, I apologized with embarrassment for having to return to stay with them for a longer time until we were truly ready to leave. Hot tears poured down my cheeks. Then, gently Lee Voth, with a twinkle in his eye said, "Now we will have none of that talk. Obviously, the timing is not right for you to leave us. You are not to be embarrassed or ashamed about staying with us. You are part of our family. God wants you here. We want you here."I will NEVER FORGET THAT MOMENT. His kind words were a balm to my soul. And I began to think how wonderful that we had another chance to live with people I dearly loved for a little while longer.

During the next two weeks, we were given advice by another missionary lady who, along with her husband, served the Lord faithfully for many years in Congo. She told Jim that she really felt strongly about our spending a good amount of time in Kikwit to take more time to adjust to Africa before going to Nkara. How I wish I could see her today and tell her how invaluable that advice proved to be.

So that's what we did. We traveled to Kikwit and ended up staying at the Guest House Jim's dad had practiced dentistry in twice a year for two weeks. He had built an office there, and Jim's mom at one time had run the guest house, which was a haven for travel-worn missionaries. Kikwit was a large town with paved roads, a port city built on the Kwilu River, which could not be traveled any further south because of the rapids of the Kwilu. Hot and humid, we found sleep hard to come by. A national by the name of Solomon was the "cook" there. Simple meals awaited us each day, like burnt toast, a couple of eggs (for 5 people) which we took turns eating, and plain rice, Since we didn't know our way around Kkwit and had no car, we didn't know what other foods were available. We assumed that Kikwit was like Kinshasa, and for a couple of weeks ate these blah meals until one day, when a package arrived that my mother-in-law had sent 14 months earlier by boat.

To be continued. Don't want to wear you out.