There is nothing quite like the smell of freshly shampooed hair. I knew there would be things to adjust to: cold showers, baby wipe showers, lots of rice and beans, wearing the same outfit 3 days in a row. There are so many little things we North Americans take for granted every day. Like the smell of clean hair. It makes me feel like a whole new woman!
These things aside, I wouldn’t trade being here.
Although I just posted a brief update not too long ago (and actually wrote it the day before writing this), I have another story on my heart. I guess that’s what happens when your team prays for the Lord to show us stories to share with those back home.
On our third day here in Xenacoj (SHEN-a-coh), a local widow passed away. Her husband had died a little over a year ago and now their 6 children are orphans. David, our GO Ministries leader, told us it would mean the world to the village if we attended the wake. He also asked us musicians to prepare some 15 songs to sing.
So, our squad, along with David and German (a native missionary, and our host), walked across the village to the wake. We spent the first several minutes sitting with the rest of the community, observing, and snacking on some sweet coffee and bread that had been handed to us. Honestly, I was confused as to why we were all there. There were moments when I felt awkward. If this was my mother’s funeral, would I want a troop of strangers showing up, “pretending” they cared? We watched as people wept, sang, prayed, and supported each other. Most of us don’t speak their language, we don’t fully understand their culture, and we don’t know this family. How could we help? How could I help? It our was turn to walk inside.
We went into the house and a few members of our squad went into a back room to sit and pray with some of the children. It was dark, cold, but the voices crying out in Guatemalan hymns were beautiful. We all walked together into the main room where the casket was displayed. German spoke a few words and then motioned for a song. My squad began to say, “Mel Jo”, “Mel Jo has a guitar”, and all eyes turned to me.
I had prepared a small medley, but was not expecting to be the only one going forward. As I moved from the back of the group to the front, my heart pounded. What am I doing here? I’ve performed many times, led worship more times than that, but this was different. This was a room filled with grieving people; people with a loss I did not understand. Were the songs I chose appropriate? Would I be able to bring comfort, or would I be a rude interruption? As I got my guitar ready and looked around with a “confident” smile, David motioned me forward saying, “Welcome to the life of a missionary,”. I took a deep breath, sat down, and began to play.
While I sang a song I have sang many times, the words weren’t coming together, and neither was the melody. After trying to get myself together, I was reminded that nothing about this time was about me. I closed my eyes and prayed, and I moved into another melody. I don’t know how long we sang for, but my squad joined me in praising the Lord for His goodness. After this, German gave a small sermon for the sons of the deceased. My squad-mate, Brenna, then led us in a beautiful a cappella hymn.
Following this time, the oldest song, who was about my age, came up to speak. He thanked us for coming and told us how much it meant to him and his family that we were there. He was genuinely thankful for our support. We prayed over the brothers, and then we left. As I walked passed the eldest song, he looked at me and smiled, and when he nodded, “gracias”, I knew his heart was truly thankful for our ministry there.
The day that Dave left to go back to the States, he left us with some final encouragement. He told our squad how we are breaking ground here in Xenacoj; we are doing things here that have never been seen before. He told me that what I did at the wake for that family had never been done before. German speaking a sermon had also never been done before.
I do not write this to brag, although I could have easily taken that to my head. I write this to show that even when we don’t know what is happening, or how our part comes into play, the Lord works through a willing heart. I could have passed off my part to someone else, I could have sat in my insecurity and doubt, but God gabve me the courage to rise to something greater than myself. And now, thanks be to the Lord, I am a part of something new.
