Monday Morning Faith (23 page)

Wild barking split the air. I turned to see that the children were again poking fun at the dog. The animal was going crazy, yipping and bounding in the air. Adult villagers ignored the racket, but the children were laughing and lunging at the dog, twisting away at the last moment to stay out of reach. Then the dog gave a mighty leap — and the vine holding him snapped.

He tumbled end over end, snarling and snapping as he rolled across the bare ground.

Villagers bolted, yelling as they scrambled for safety. I'd never seen a place clear so fast. Men who had been on stretchers, struggling to breathe a moment ago, resurrected and scattered into the vegetation. Women and children scurried like turkeys the week before Thanksgiving.

One native who'd been rolling on the ground, moaning, jumped to his feet and shinned up the side of the clinic wall like he'd been fired from the mouth of a cannon. Now he sat atop the thatched roof, feet drawn up, curled into a fetal position as he stared wide-eyed at the snarling beast.

The village had emptied of natives.

Frank shouted a warning as the dog turned his attention to us, the only fools left in attack range. Frank reached for Eva's hand, pulling her toward the nearest palm. Bud helped Mary up onto a low-hanging limb while the frenzied canine nipped at their heels. Sam grabbed my hand. “Hurry, Johanna! This way!”

The dog bounded from one tree to the other while the missionaries drew their feet higher, clinging to their perches. Sam dragged me across the ground to a low-branched tree. Swinging me up in his arms, he shoved me up and I caught a limb and pulled myself farther into the tree, thankful for my childhood tree-climbing years. The dog hurtled toward Sam. I yelled a warning and Sam leaped straight up, grabbing a limb and swinging himself atop it in one smooth movement.

Until that moment, I had no idea the man was part monkey.

We clung to our lofty perches while the dog strutted from one tree to another, barking out a dare to descend. I was reminded of Goliath and the Israelites, except we had no David to come to our rescue. The dog knew who was in charge. And it wasn't us.

The sun blazed down, filtering through the scant foliage and searing my skin. I leaned my forehead against the rough bark, biting back tears. Every day in this horrible place brought a new disaster. And I had been so good to that dog — jelly beans, sometimes twice a day.

“Don't worry, Johanna,” Sam called. “He'll tire of the game before long.”

I stared down at our four-legged tormentor. “He doesn't look like he's getting tired. I think he's trying to figure out how to climb trees.”

We sat. One hour. Two hours. The dog backed up and took a running leap, snapping at Bud's foot when it dangled just out of reach. Mary screamed and Bud jerked his foot higher.

The dog strutted around — king of the hill. Sam tucked his feet up closer and I shifted my position, almost losing my grip on the tree trunk.

Three hours.

The dog had finally decided to lie down, resting his head on his paws.

“Is he asleep?” Sam whispered.

I angled a look first at the beast, then at Sam. “I can't tell.”

Sam made a move to descend — and we had our answer. The beast sprang to life. I yelped and clawed at the tree limbs, the rough bark stripping skin off my bare hands. The dog strode back to Frank and Eva's tree. Sam shot me a weak smile. “Think what a funny story this will be when you're back home.”

I stared at him. He'd come unhinged. “Hilarious.”

“Well, maybe not right now, but you'll be surprised how time will change your perspective.”

“Yes, Sam. That will surprise me.” I'd had enough. I was tired and frustrated and hungry.

Hungry … of course! I still had three packets of jelly beans in my backpack. I scanned the ground. The pack was leaning against the base of our tree, and the animal was now sniffing the pack. If the dog didn't eat me alive I had a chance. Why hadn't I thought of the candy earlier?

I glanced at Sam. “Try to distract the mutt. I'm going down.”

“You're
what
? Johanna, have you lost your mind?”

“Just try and distract him; throw something at him.”

The animal had returned to our tree and dropped to the ground panting, his gaze pinned on us.

“Johanna — ”

“Throw something, Sam, or plan to spend the night in this tree.”

He broke off a sizable limb and took careful aim. “What if I hit him?”

“Try not to. Just scare him off long enough for me to shinny down.”

Sam's throw proved accurate. The stick landed in front of the mutt. He yelped, tucked his tail between his legs, and disappeared around the corner of the clinic. I slid down the trunk and fished in my backpack for the candy, keeping an eye on the clinic. Seconds later the persecutor rounded the corner, ears back, yapping, teeth bared. I pitched a few of the sweets at him, wishing it was laxative instead.

Mean-spirited, yes. But the toughie needed a lesson.

The animal skidded to a halt and started gobbling up the goodies. Then he looked around for more. When he looked up at me I threw two entire bags as far across the clearing as my arm allowed. The dog scrambled after them.

I spun to the trees. “Everyone! Clear out while you can!” I motioned for the villagers to scat!

Natives slid down tree trunks and ran. Sam hurried to help the victim stranded on the clinic roof, supporting him away from the scene. The area cleared in three minutes flat. The patients would have to return the following morning after some brave soul captured the dog and resecured him to the tree.

After devouring the first bag, the beast looked up and then started on the second packet. By then Sam, the missionaries, and I were well on our way to the boat. The six of us were a weary, sunburned, and parched group as our footsteps thundered down the incline to the boat.

Oh, yeah, missions were my thing — lovin' it more every day, Lord.

FOURTEEN

I
was up earlier than usual; the thought of a villager prowling the hut cost me a night's sleep. While I waited for Eva and Frank to rise, I decided to secure everything I owned in my suitcases. Sam could excuse the local population's thievery, but I couldn't.

As I rearranged blouses and slacks, refolded and straightened, I came across two large safety pins I'd carried in my luggage since I was the tender age of fourteen. I was always prepared — a throwback from my Girl Scout days. The pins, along with the small pair of scissors I used to cut tags off new clothing, came in handy a few times. Seeing them now gave me a sense of something familiar. A sense I sorely needed.

Once the suitcases were in order, I relocked the luggage and put the key on a silver chain around my neck.
Now
let's see anyone steal my stuff. Tonight I'd lock my glasses in a suitcase too.

I pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the kitchen, where a yawning Eva was ladling coffee into a filter. “Good morning, Eva. Need any help?”

“You can cut the pineapple.” She sounded cheerful this morning. “We're having eggs. Poo's Bum delivered them a few minutes ago.”

I gaped at her. “He did what?” An egg was believed to be a valued commodity to the villagers, not to be shared with anyone but family.

She shrugged. “I think he meant them for you, but such a treat! There are six. One for each of us, unless you object.”

“No, of course not. Let's all enjoy the treat.”

She turned and grasped my hand. “Thank you. Luxuries are hard to come by here. We had our own hens at one time, but the villagers …”

“Stole them.”

She sighed. “We gave up and decided that we could live without eggs.”

“Too bad he didn't bring bacon to go with them.”

She laughed, returning to the coffee. Frank came in, followed by Bud, Mary, and Sam. Mary busied herself at the stove scrambling eggs. When they were steaming and the toast browned in a skillet, the six of us sat down at the table.

While Sam asked the blessing, I peered at the others around the table. These people seemed so free and so happy, sharing what they had, eating in one hut one day and the other the next. Their smiles warmed me; their spirits challenged me. And, I admitted as I listened to Sam's dear voice, the missionaries were starting to feel like kin. Because of them, there were even times I almost forgot I was in the middle of a jungle, thousands of miles away from all that was familiar.

After the amens, we all dug in. The eggs tasted more delicious than I'd ever remembered them tasting at home. I cleared my throat during a lull in conversation. The missionaries looked at me, and I took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “There's something that bothers me. You live here without comforts most people would consider necessities.

You're surrounded by danger, but you don't appear to feel deprived or afraid. What's your secret?”

Frank smiled. “No secret. We enjoy luxuries as much as anyone, but this is our life's work. We surrender our lives anew every day — ” he glanced at his wife, smile widening — “sometimes every hour.”

I still didn't understand and it must have showed, because Frank shook his head. “Not everyone is called to the mission field.”

“And if not, they shouldn't feel guilty.” Bud's tone was gentle. “Mary and I serve where God calls, but Johanna, if you don't feel his call — and I think everyone at this table would understand if you don't — then serve God wherever he puts you. Not where he puts me or Mary or Frank and Eva. Not even where he puts Sam.”

I asked the question I couldn't seem to escape. The same one I'd asked the waitress who was giving up her life for missions. “But how do you
know
what God is doing in your life?”

“Honey — ” Mary reached over to cover my hand with hers — “my grandmother once told me the way to decide if God is calling you to a particular field was if the thought wouldn't let up. If you have compulsive thoughts to do something, don't analyze them to death; do it. But if you feel no peace about a situation, then
don't do it.
Peace is God's umpire.”

I frowned. “I don't follow.”

“In some sports, it's the umpire who lets players know if they're doing things right. If they're following the rules. While trust in our God is not a sport, the peace he gives when we are in his will is our umpire, our indication that we're doing it right, fulfilling our purpose. God's will isn't some code we have to break, but rather a marvelous truth to be discovered! I believe what he wants most is our willingness to become what he intends and go where he leads. Often, when we offer a simple heartfelt willingness to serve, he will open the way and provide the power to accomplish the goal — but it won't be one you can predict. I can promise you that much.”

I focused on my plate, my cheeks burning. My lack of willingness was so obvious, how could this ever be God's will for me? And yet, Sam's expression suggested he expected me to leap to my feet and exclaim, “Eureka!”

But I couldn't; I still wasn't sure I got it.

“Bum stole my glasses. Doesn't it bother you that he was in this hut prowling around in the middle of the night, touching our things?”

“What things?” Mary laughed. “The nice thing about having nothing is you don't have to worry about losing it.”

“I don't believe Bum was the culprit.”

I looked at Sam. “If not Bum
,
then who?” Whoever it was had no business being in here.

“Poo.”

I stared at Mary, my mouth gaping.
“Poo?”

She nodded.

“You mean …” I opened my mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. “You think the little girl took my glasses?”

“She's fascinated with you. She wanted something of yours.”

I had a strong urge to give that little rascal a piece of my mind — one she wouldn't understand, but one she wouldn't soon forget! So
that's
why she clung to me like a tick. The child was looking for something to steal. Well, she'd have a hard time stealing from me again. My fingers went to the chain around my neck, reassuring myself that my luggage contents were safe.

“By the way.” Mary stood up and began to clear the table. “Has anyone borrowed the can opener and forgotten to return it?”

There was one can opener for the whole group. We all shook our heads.

“Oh, dear.” She paused. “I must have laid it down and someone — maybe Poo — took it.”

The women cleaned up the remains of breakfast, scraping the plates off over the edge of the deck and watching as fish snapped up the debris. I salvaged a few scraps, wrapped them in foil, and stuck them in my backpack along with candy treats.

Later we climbed aboard the boat and rowed to the island to begin our morning's work. We expected the clinic to be crowded; Sam would have double the patient load because of yesterday's dog incident.