With Every Breath

Psalm 103:2 -- "Let all that I am praise the Lord; may I never forget the good things He does for me."

Sitting in a medical waiting room, I chat with some cherished few. We are just passing time until a name is called, but the moment turned into so much more for me. Because we talk about Africa.

My Mom and two precious Sessami villagers

I don't remember exactly how the conversation started but I got the opportunity to, once again, share God's grace and His glory. If you've read my book, Home Sweet Somewhere, you know this story so forgive me for the repetition. Yesterday, I was reminded anew so I want to share it with you.

We were in Rhodesia [what is now Zimbabwe] when it all let loose. Not "missionaries" but medical team working in a small clinic settled smack in the middle of a tiny place called Sessami. But, it was time for us to leave. Before we had ever stepped toe one on the bright orange sand in that little village our Mission Board decided that when we were no longer help to the community - when being there was threatening the lives of the national people [not to mention ourselves], it was time to go.

It was time to go.

The Sessami Clinic

Villagers in surrounding areas were being tortured and killed for their knowledge of the white people that worked in the clinics.  The Freedom Fighters wanted us dead - an example of power - but also, they could use our supplies and our ransom to fund their war. They had already killed many people - including other missionaries and medical teams. We were putting people in danger just by being there.

Moments, whispers were shared in private meetings. We would leave but no one should know. No one COULD know. It wouldn't be safe. So a date was set in secret - and it was decided that my Mom, sister and I were to be flown out while Dad and the nurses drove the trucks with the medicals supplies.  The clinic would be stripped so it was no longer a target - it no longer had anything of value.

That was the plan anyway. It didn't take very long for my parents to realize that the meeting had been overheard by spies sympathetic to the Freedom Fighter's cause. They were asked about their departure. A thing no one could have known about unless they were in the secret meeting - our outside, in the dark, listening in.

Switching gears quickly, we were no longer preparing to leave Sessami - we just left.

The three of us girls made it out by Cessna just as planned.

But not Dad.

He was caught in the brush, in the dark.

At first he broke down and was granted the miracle of a mechanic in a small shack out in the middle of nowhere. Yup, a lonely mechanic...all by himself....out in the middle of Africa. Surrounded by red sand, a few thorny Acacias and Baobab trees. Not exactly a highway of frequent traffic - there wasn't really a road.....just sand. But - there WAS a mechanic. Dad was soon on his way again and then ran out of gas. He ended up using the airplane fuel he had in the back of the truck. But while he was "filling up" - a man stepped out of the dark and asked my Dad if he'd just come through the field behind him. Dad confirmed that yes, he had just come from there. But the man asked again. Dad - again - confirmed that he had.

That's when the stranger told my Dad, while shaking his head and clicking his tongue, that he'd just driven through "many, many sweet potatoes". That would be mines. Dad had just driven through a mine field.

So two things happened. One - Dad made it all the way through the mine field without being blown up. And two: whatever "they" were protecting and for whatever reason - they didn't "detain" my Dad. They let  him go on his way.

"May I never forget the good things God has done for me."

When we were out. When Sessami was a distant dot on an old map far behind us.  We learned that the night we were GOING to leave - the night we had originally planned to head out of Sessami - a group of Freedom Fighters found our village, raided our little yellow house and burned it to the ground.

We, however, were not in it.

May I never forget the good things God had done for me.

Every single day - God works His miracles all around me.  All around US. It might not always be as obvious as our escape from Africa. Sometimes, the miracles are very subtle. But they ARE always there. If we could stop for a minute: stop worrying about the grocery bill, how long a tank of gas will last or how to retire on the dwindling 401k. If we could stop - just for a minute - and NOT worry about the number of minutes in a day, wishing for just a few more. The good things - God's good things - still happen.

Lord, let ALL that I am, praise You!