Transmission
Effect
I
was able to Skype with another good friend of mine, Larry Bartoszek, on
Wednesday, albeit briefly (I tend to speak too loudly in my excitement to see a
bit of home when I have the brief opportunities to talk with Stateside
friends.) In our conversation, Larry asked me how I was doing and I told him
the honest truth: I am struggling. In my memory, I have never been this tired
in my life. I have also never struggled this much with feelings of
hopelessness.
This
month’s ministry was originally focused on the Aboriginal children and their
families in Mossman Gorge Aboriginal Community. This small reservation has less
than 30 government-constructed structures with dilapidated fences, garbage in
the yards that have spilled into the streets, a few vehicles, and the residents
tend to be either drunk or high (or both) on a daily basis.
In
addition to that, being a part of an all-women team and safety precautions, our
ministry’s focus shifted last week from the few locals (who were all men) due
to misperceived perceptions among the local women.
In
many ways, I have felt trapped this month, literally and figuratively.
We
live in a church, with a cement floor for a bed as well as pews for Kerry and
Jeanne. Bugs (including a cockroach which climbed on me the other night as I
tried to sleep), lizards, geckos, and mice all live within the four walls we
call ‘home.’ As the sun sets around 7 p.m., we lock ourselves in, only to
venture out to the nearby bathroom, which we lock ourselves in.
But
I know that God used us here and as we prep to take 4 flights to our final
destination to the Philippines
in a few days, I am even more aware of this.
