Ask a Missionary - Catch The Fire

Jim, obviously nervous, simply said, “Je ne vous comprends pas.”
I don’t understand.
Quick-thinking Debbie called out from the backseat,
“Monsieur!” and handed the officer a huge cinnamon roll.
The officer then stepped back, smiled, and took the roll.
“Allez, Allez.” And he waved us on.
We stopped at the airstrip just outside of town, and the
women, children, and I climbed aboard a roaring prop plane.
Feeling thankful for the ease of flying the rest of the way—and
a little guilty—we waved to the men and shouted above the roar
that we’d meet up at the conference.
———————————————————
Darkness drops fast across the African sky. From the conference
grounds, we strained to keep sight of the horizon, watching
for the men to arrive from their cross-desert drive. I stood, freshly
showered, with the wives, children, and other missionaries who had
already arrived from other parts of Mauritania. I had to ask, “Isn’t
this too risky and a lot of effort just to get missionaries from the
agency together? I mean, I’m sure it’ll be a good time, but . . . ”
Incredulous that I would even ask the question, Debbie sputtered,
“All this effort? And risk?” But then she heard a muffler
backfire and saw the headlights of the yellow-encrusted, dual-cab
compact pickup. And she declared, “We need each other.”
Everyone clapped in agreement, joyful to get to spend the
week playing and praying together.
In a split second, my mind flipped through all the conventional
stories of lonely, isolated missionaries living on the edge
of survival. I decided in that moment that I too would cross the
AGENCIES: Researching the Options | 45