I have only known them for a short while, but as I am driving away from Singida I can’t stop thinking about my new friends Farida, Bebe and Asha.
A few days ago I went on a hunt to find the family of Asha, the little girl who had clung to me throughout the month. Knocking on her door, a worn, wrinkled smile greeted me and invited me in. For hours I sat with Asha’s grandmother Bebe and older cousin Farida peeling beans, sharing stories and laughing. Because all of Farida’s school classes are taught in English, she spoke it perfectly and for the first time in months I could converse freely with these serendipitous new friends. Here, unhindered conversation is a rare gift as we are usually dependent on translators.
While we peeled beans, Farida showed me her school books and shared with me her dream of becoming a doctor. We talked about biology, anthropology, the history of Tanzania and our favorite movies, throughout which Bebe would chime in observations and then crack up at her own jokes. Over the next several days I fell in love with Asha's entire family.
Yesterday, as we were walking away from the village for the final time, Farida raced down the dirt path to press a letter into my hand addressed to “My Dear Enny.” In it she expressed her deep affections, the kindness and joy she felt around me, and that she would never forget me. As I looked into her eyes, there was so much I wanted to tell her… about a God that absolutely adores her, a peace that never leaves, a love that never fails, and a well that never runs dry. I had tried to tell her earlier, but every time the subject was switched or something interrupted us. So here I was once again, my heart burning for this beautiful African woman and there simply wasn’t time to explain what was on my heart. My team was waiting and we were leaving for a new country in the morning.
Why is it that the people you care about most are the hardest ones to tell the things that actually matter?
We have shared the Gospel with countless acquaintances, yet when it came to telling these dear friends of mine about Jesus, my tongue kept getting twisted. And now it’s too late, I’m driving away without ever having shared with them the truest and most vital love I know.
It’s the same at home- so often I go without saying the important things to the people I love. The words that burden my heart day after day often get caught in my throat. I’ve had countless Gospel conversations with complete strangers in coffee shops and airplanes, but somehow went an entire year without ever sitting down with roommates and close friends to share the essence of who I am and what I believe. It’s not just my faith that I get chocked up on either, but also things like how much I treasure them and the radiant beauty I see in them.
Time is dear.
It slips away so fast.
I’ve heard it said that if Christians really believe what they claim, they would crawl across fiery coals to tell just one soul about his opportunity to have abundant life.
It’s not that I don’t feel that urgency, because I do, but something always seems to hold me back and whisper that it’s not the right time. Most likely it’s my own lack of confidence, or fear that the very thing I’ve been trying to say for years will be rejected. Regardless of the reason, I often find myself driving away, looking back and wishing I had said something, wishing I had followed that urging in my soul. Even if I butchered what I wanted to say or if they turned away, at least they would know my heart. I wouldn’t be left still holding the words I had choked down for too long.
So speaking from experience, if you feel the urgency to say something important,
don’t wait.
Time moves swiftly, especially when you are always waiting for tomorrow. Act today because tomorrow never comes and you will only ever have right now.
