Let's go
Domingo, the leader of our Bible worker team of four, really wants to go to the States. He finds some way to bring this up at every opportunity possible.
“Ani,” he says to me, in this slow and wise voice, “I want to go to your country. To preach.” He often speaks in fragment sentences.
“We will take the tent,” he continues, “to baptize, to convert the people. And we must have Tarzan, our guardian. And all of your children want to go, too.”
Tarzan is our favorite Masisean dog, who is barely older than a puppy, and who sings, or rather howls, on command. He stays in the big evangelistic tent when no one else is around, and keeps watch.
“My children” are the 150 kids who come literally dashing from their homes each night for our children’s program. I love them, and do feel a wave of warm fuzzies when the run up and yell, “ANI!” and throw their arms around my legs and waist, so many at a time that I can’t walk at all and begin instead to trip over the crowd of them.
They are precious, but I can’t take them home with me. I can just imagine the plane headed north—filled to the brim with Domingo, the Brethren, the huge tent, all rolled up in an enormous orange and blue hay bale, Tarzan the singing dog, and all of my kids, all together.
“Ani,” he says to me, in this slow and wise voice, “I want to go to your country. To preach.” He often speaks in fragment sentences.
“We will take the tent,” he continues, “to baptize, to convert the people. And we must have Tarzan, our guardian. And all of your children want to go, too.”
Tarzan is our favorite Masisean dog, who is barely older than a puppy, and who sings, or rather howls, on command. He stays in the big evangelistic tent when no one else is around, and keeps watch.
“My children” are the 150 kids who come literally dashing from their homes each night for our children’s program. I love them, and do feel a wave of warm fuzzies when the run up and yell, “ANI!” and throw their arms around my legs and waist, so many at a time that I can’t walk at all and begin instead to trip over the crowd of them.
They are precious, but I can’t take them home with me. I can just imagine the plane headed north—filled to the brim with Domingo, the Brethren, the huge tent, all rolled up in an enormous orange and blue hay bale, Tarzan the singing dog, and all of my kids, all together.
posted by Ansley at 6:30 PM
1 Comments:
ahh, Domingo. He will always have a special place in my heart. I love your description of the plane brimming with all of its contents and the tripping over the kids bit, priceless.
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