Thanksgiving

This coming week is American Thanksgiving, a harvest festival that remembers those who came to this country for religious freedom and honors the indigenous people who reached beyond their cultural comfort zone to help them adapt to their new home. (Hmm. That sounds like it should lead into a challenge to reach out to immigrants in our neighborhoods, but it doesn't.)

You don’t need me to tell you that Thanksgiving should be 365 days a year. God says, “He who sacrifices thank offerings honors me, and he prepares the way so that I may show him the salvation of God.” (Psalm 50:23) That means that when I practice giving thanks in all situations, I not only honor God; I establish a habit of looking for what he is doing, and that makes it more likely that I’ll see his salvation at work.

A while ago I began writing down something every day for which I am thankful. It has to be something specific from the past 24 hours. I look for an answer to prayer, a person God has brought into my life, an event where I see his hand, or a gift he has given me. Some days I could fill the whole page, but other days I stare at my notebook, trying to come up with something unique for which I really do feel thankful. I don’t want to fall into a habit of just going through the motions of honoring God. I love being able to look back at the list and see concrete things that God has done for me—especially on those days when I’m struggling to see him at work.

Last week I spoke several times at the Global Impact Conference of Faith Missionary Church in Indianapolis, Indiana. The last time we participated in this conference we felt under-used. Believe me, they have made up for that! It was an exhausting week. Steve was teaching workshops for academic deans in Latin America, so the speaking and relating to donors (and potential donors) all fell on me. By the time I got home to my snug house in the Northwoods, I was nearly catatonic. This morning I looked back over some of the things I wrote on my thanksgiving list last week:

All those hours in the car by myself getting there before non-stop people
A good group of missionaries, representing a variety of countries and ministries
Old friends like Gail, and family like Aunt Millie
Enthusiastic Sunday School children, praying for the boys and girls in Africa
Retired missionaries like Betty who have spent their lives in service
Families who opened their homes for meetings even though they didn’t know me
Strangers who asked to be on our mailing list
Younger women (not just little old ladies!) who are meeting weekly to pray for missionaries

This morning I lolled against the pillows and ate my breakfast in bed. On my thankful list I wrote “A week without pressure.” So what are you thankful for today?

International Bazaar

“That one, Mom. Beads and Braids. Buy that one!”

Friday night we held a bazaar in the fellowship hall of Faith Missionary Church in Indianapolis, Indiana. Various booths were set up with goods we missionaries had brought from around the world. Participants had to get a ‘passport’ and insert ‘stamps’ from the various countries represented. They exchanged U.S. dollars for GICC (Global Impact Conference Cents) at the ‘bank’ with good-looking teens in suits and ties. The ‘customs official’ even pulled a few people out of line for searches, and I heard an alarm go at one point and the intercom announce a ‘code red’. A dog wandered in and out among the shoppers and sniffed the live chickens in one corner. My Mozambican colleague and I in the Africa booth pinned up a sign that read, “We are speeking English” and chased away a couple pesky beggars.

Peg jiggled the baby doll tied to her back and bargained freely with her customers, arguing that their initial offers wouldn’t feed her family. I spread my books on a cloth on the ground and sold only in foreign currency (U.S. dollars.) It wasn’t really black market. It was more like our days in Mozambique when the government ran a store with imported goods sold only in dollars or South African rand. I told all the children how smart they would be and how well they would do in school if they practiced English by reading my books.

The fun part for me was the children who had been to Vacation Bible School and contributed for the books I left at Arebaokeng and Thembisa Baptist Church. The children recognized the cover of Beads and Braids from the VBS promotion and wanted their own copy. Last Sunday I spoke in their Sunday School class and told them about the children whose mothers and fathers had died. Some of those children live with grandparents like the ones in Our Gran. Some of them live on their own like Toto and his brothers in Toto in Trouble. That story was told in detail to at least one mother in the car on the way home from church. “Mrs. Hardy wants to write stories that will make the children say, ‘That’s just like me,’” her son told her, echoing my exact words.

Whenever a child at the bazaar bought a copy of Beads and Braids, I signed it and wrote on the title page, “Pray for the children of Africa.” I hope they will.