Monday Morning Faith by Lori Copeland

Author:Lori Copeland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook
Publisher: Zondervan

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.

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