COMING HOME

Little Megan with her own version of the two-step or maybe three- is a welcome sight when I emerge from the baggage and customs area at the airport in Harare. So good to see them all -- Jim, Bowen, Ruth and Megan.

En route to the parking lot, minus luggage (somewhere between Minneapolis, Chicago, Washington Dulles, and Addis Ababa my two checked in bags were left behind), Jim tells me much has happened since we last talked on Saturday. Today is Tuesday. He hit the high points quickly.

Saturday evening a kombi carrying students and teachers from our local Christian school collides with a mining dump truck. Four die, and a teacher named Edith is in ICU at Avenues Hospital in Harare. She sometimes came to our church and is good friends with one of our musicians.

Sunday morning Charmian is found in the old folks cottages within a few hours of suffering a stroke. She is in Claybank, a Gweru hospital. Her daughter Mel is a longtime member of our church.

Somehow a bit of lost luggage diminishes in importance. I had filled out a "lost luggage" form and was told to check in the next day. With a three-and-a-half hour drive involved each way, I said we'd call.

Back home on Wednesday we're making arrangements to visit Charmian when via a phone call we learn she has died. The service will be Saturday at the Dutch Reformed Church, and Jim is asked to play the organ.

Among many calls welcoming me home is one from the airport, saying my luggage has arrived. We make the trip up on Friday, and take the opportunity to stop at Avenues to check on Edith. No visitors allowed, but Jim shows his clergy credentials and he is allowed to step into her room and pray for her. She is very sedated but a flicker of her eyes seems to show appreciation for Jim's presence.

Just a few fleeting thoughts during my first week home:

Good Presbyterian hymns, says the presiding pastor at Charmian's service. The King of Love, Dear Lord and Father of Mankind, and What a Friend We Have in Jesus. Jim confesses to frustration with the church organ because there's no way to regulate the volume. Not that the people care. They absolutely love to hear that organ being played. They sang well for the first and third song, but petered out for the second. Somehow the less known tune had been chosen! Jim gallantly labored through all the verses.

The tributes to Charmian's faith and love for the Lord touched every heart. And more than one of us could help but enviously wonder if such good things would be said of us when we passed on. Charmian's husband had died before the family was forced off their farm some years ago. She would now be buried in a lovely private spot on another farm not too far away.

But first a tea for everyone at the service. It's traditional to bring a plate of eats to share, and so there is no shortage of cakes and sandwiches. Jim and I sit with a family from our church. The Dad sees a Sudoku book I'm holding for someone and he has to take a look. He's an avid fan, I'm told. With a sweet, personal glimpse into the family's life, I learn that he works the puzzles at night in bed while waiting for his wife who checks the doors and windows, etc. And then they pray together.

Out at the farm we wait for the hearse, and then walk across pastures to the burial spot. And then another tea for those who had come so far. And we leave for home with such a good feeling. It had been a good day. People coming together from other parts of Zimbabwe and also from South Africa to honor the homegoing of a good Christian woman. So much love and hugs and laughter and sadness, too, as people met again and remember other times and places. And we remember, too, with soberness, the four from the school whose lives had had a much shorter run.

And on Sunday someone visiting just that one day who found herself so tired of being far from God and asked for prayer to begin anew with Christ. And then our church family enjoys the food and fellowship of a braai with the added pleasure of cotton candy, popcorn balls and candied apples.

My visits in the States were the greatest, and I found in myself an even deeper love and appreciation for my family and friends, but it's good to be home again with Jim and Ruth and Megan and Bowen and all the folks at Emmanuel Fellowship in Gweru, Zimbabwe!

Kombi is a small bus
Braai is the African name for a barbeque