CHAPTER FOUR
The next morning Mrs. Slocum was more alert upon awakening and seemed much better. After the aide had bathed her and changed the bed, she and Donnie were left alone.
"How is Sharon--and Christy, son? If you told me, it didn't register. This medication keeps me from thinking clearly."
"They're fine, Mom."
"Are they staying by themselves while you're here?"
"No, Sharon took Christy and went to her folks' for a short visit." He wished that were the whole truth. He felt he could not afford to upset his mom with the details until she was better.
"How about your job, Donnie? How did you get time off from work?"
"I didn't have any problem, Mom." This time he was truthful in word, at least. Promising himself that he would t:ell her the truth when the time was right, Donnie endeavored to change the subject. "I enjoyed Connie's letter, Mom. She seems happy and contented in spite of homesickness.”
"Yes, she does, doesn't she? But that's not surprising. She and Larry have felt sure of their call to New Guinea from the beginning, and being in God's divine will makes anyone contented. By the way, I have a stack of Connie's letters in the top drawer of the chest in my bedroom. Feel free to read them while you're home."
"Well ... I just might do that," Donnie answered.
So several nights later when Mrs. Slocum had improved enough to be left alone and Donnie was unable to sleep, he got out the stack of letters and propped himself comfortably in bed. Taking off the rubber band, he opened the top letter and began to read:
Dear Mom,
My first letter to you from the lovely land of New Guinea! Larry and I feel great to be here, in the center of God's precious will. The trip over by ship was fine, except that both of us got seasick. And at one time the weather was so stormy we wondered if we would ever see New Guinea. (It's good to have your life committed at times like that.) But in the midst of seasickness, bad weather, and other annoyances, we knew we were obeying God's clear call, and we felt surely He would protect us and get us safely to our destination.
After the ship docked, we stayed in a two-story hotel for the night. The remainder of our trip was made by plane, the last leg of our journey being made by the Missionary Aviation Fellowship. A jeep met us at the airstrip and in spite of a pelting downpour, we arrived safely at the mission station some hours later.
For the present, we are staying with Dan and Julia Taylor, another missionary couple. Our little dwelling will be ready soon. It is a two-room thatch roofed cottage. Maybe, that doesn't sound like much, but at least we'll have some privacy. I'll tell you more about it later.
My first reaction to the natives here is diffcult to put into words. Everyone wanted to shake hands with Larry and me. They are so friendly, but their bodies are so-o-o bare. For one reared in America, it's a little hard to get used to. I wish we had a wardrobe large enough to dole out clothes to everybody. But I'm sure that will come later. As they are converted, and the good people in America send clothes, we'll teach our people to dress pleasing to God. Bless their hearts! They not only need clothes, but they need medical care. Many have sores that are infected and repulsive, and their sweaty bodies give out an odor that causes my sensitive "smeller" to revolt.
But these are precious souls, and my heart cries out for their salvation. I do long to be an instrument in God's hand to help turn them from darkness to the marvelous light of the gospel.
We can't communicate with them because we don't know the language yet, but they know we're here to help them. They give us those wide, friendly smiles, and that compensates for the other things. We smile back at them, and you should see how they try to please us!
I could go on and on. There's so much to tell. I'll try to write every week if at all possible, but don't worry if I miss a week. There is so much to be done. I'll try not to get too busy to write.
Pray for us, Mom. I know you do. We pray for you and Donnie and his wife every day. I love you so very, very much and miss you terribly at times, but it's great to be a missionary for Jesus.
Your loving daughter,
Connie
Donnie returned the first letter to its envelope and laid aside, his mind still puzzling over the incomprehensibleness of it all. It was worse than he had thought. Why would Connie throw away her life on uncivilized heathen with running sores and smelly bodies? This was too much for him to understand. His unregenerated heart was blinded to God's great love for the precious souls of other lands. Only a heart filled with God's Spirit--as was Connie's--would count it a privilege to renounce ease and pleasure to answer a divine call to work among heathen of another land.
Donnie opened the next letter on the stack and, amidst many conflicting thoughts, read on.
Dear Mom,
Good morning! While I rest a bit, I want to get some correspondence done. Naturally my first letter goes to my own dear mom, whom I love so much and miss more than you'll ever know.
We moved into our little cottage yesterday. You should see it. I'm wondering how you would ever keep this one spotless. Wish you were here to try.
I'll try to describe it for you. I have pegs hung around on my kitchen wall. These hold my dish pans. (Never will I let water run over the sinks in my kitchen. Ha!) Also on the pegs I have a black skillet and two boilers. These are my cooking utensils, given to me by the Taylors. They're all blacked up on the bottom, as there's no possible way to keep them shiny, with our stoves as they are here. They just won't cooperate, but wrap up our skillets and boilers in smutty flames. But anyway, I keep the inside clean and that's that's important. Even Jesus stressed that, didn't He?
My kitchen cabinets are two wooden boxes with shelves built in and a curtain in front. These hold what plates, cups, glasses, and bowls we have. I guess I should be thankful there aren't too many, since that means there aren't too many dishes to wash, either. Oh, how I used to hate to wash dishes when I was home! Do you remember, Mom? I'll consider it a privilege when I come home to visit. I'll give you a rest.
At present we have no refrigerator, but we've been promised a small one later. Oh, yes, I forgot to mention that the uncooperative stove burns oil. That's why everything gets so smutty. I'm so scared of it! I got Larry to light it the one time it was lit. It doesn't seem to be a problem for Sister Taylor, but of course she's had several years' experience.
Our bed is home-built, with no springs. I'll have to admit it isn't the most comfortable bed I've slept on, but I'm sure we'll get used to it and maybe even like it. I have always heard a hard bed is good for one's back, so we should have good strong backs to carry heavy loads for Jesus.
It's so wonderful to be a Christian, to feel secure in God's love and keeping. I'm so glad He ever saved and sanctified me and called me to New Guinea. I feel we will be able to glean some precious souls for Him here. The burden is growing heavier for these dear people as we live among them. Keep praying, Mom, that we will adjust and be able to win souls for Jesus.
I had an awful burden for Donnie, Sunday. Trust he's O.K. I feel God is doing His best to get to his heart. I surely miss my twin brother. He means a lot to me. He looked just great at my wedding. His little wife is sweet. She'd make a wonderful Christian, I expect. When you hear from them, tell them I love them and my prayers are with them.
Larry just came in, so I need to prepare something for us to eat. Oh, for a loaf of bread! Ha. Mom, I'm not complaining. I love it here, and God is so very real. Praise His dear name!
Lovingly,
Larry and Connie
What a sister! In spite of all the inconveniences, she seemed truly happy. And in spite of all she had to contend with, she still had time to think of him. Dear Connie! Though he couldn't understand her choice of her life's work, yet he had to admit she was far better off than he was. She and Larry loved each other and were happy together. His life was one messed-up ordeal.
He glanced over the letter again. His eyes fell on the part about the wedding. He had m
arried two summers before Connie and Larry were married. They had wanted to get their schooling behind them first and had waited until after Connie's graduation. Shortly after their marriage, they left for New Guinea. Donnie wondered how Connie could possibly adjust as well as she was doing, with everything so different there, but he supposed that God helped her.
Weddings! Donnie turned to look at the pictures he had set up on the dresser. Connie had made a pretty bride, all right. She looked so happy standing there beside her tall husband.
But the happiness doesn't always last, Donnie thought bitterly. He looked at his and Sharon's picture. Her petiteness made him look taller than his rather average height. Her pretty sandy hair wasn't completely concealed beneath the white veil. Sharon. Never would he forget how beautiful she had looked as she walked down the aisle on her father's arm. Her smile was especially for him and made those bewitching greenish-brown eyes sparkle like diamonds. How he had loved her then! And as he searched his heart now, he knew that, despite all their differences, he still loved her and wanted her back. But she and Christy were happy without him. He brought them only sorrow and heartaches.
He held his head pressed tightly in his hands, willing himself not to give way to his emotions, but the tears escaped between his fingers and trickled down his cheeks. Never had he felt any sadder, lonelier, or more rejected.
Why not give God a chance? Let Him change your life and make you a good father and husband?
Donnie started. It was almost as if someone had spoken audibly to him.
"It's Mom's and Connie's prayers," he concluded. "They close me in every once in a while. But look what they get from God. There's Mom bruised and broken in the hospital and Connie so far away from those she loves. I'm about as well off without--"
He couldn't seem to finish the sentence. He knew it wasn't so. His Mom and Connie had a peace and happiness that he could not comprehend.
"Well, maybe someday--" he told himself.
Someday may be too late. It was that same small still voice again.
Hastily, Donnie gathered up the pages of Connie's letter. He shoved the letter into the envelope and picked another from about half way down the stack. Although it was late, he didn't feel one bit sleepy. Unfolding the letter, he read:
Dear Mom,
We enjoyed your letter and were so glad to get a picture of little Christy. She's so sweet! She may have Donnie's blue eyes and brown hair, but I believe she looks more like Sharon. I'm sure she is a joy to them. I would love to see her, but that does not mean that I'm not satisfied with things as they are.
I can't get over how satisfying it is to be here in New Guinea. I love it. God has given me such a love for these dear people! I can't explain it. It's God loving them through me. I guess I should have included Larry in that, too. He feels the same way I do. We still can't communicate with the people very well, but I'm sure they feel the love we have for them. Oh, I do praise God for calling us to this needy field of labor.
I'm helping out some in the clinic here. The training I received the two years I worked in the hospital while I was in college sure comes in handy. There's so much sickness and disease among these people. It's heart-rending. We treat them the best we can and pray with them. I'm sure a lot of the time the prayer does more good than the medicine.
One poor man was brought in with malaria. He looked more dead than alive. We gave him some medicine and prayed earnestly for his healing. Somehow I just felt God was going to undertake. And, praise His name, He did. The man is much improved, and I believe he will be well again in due time. The nurse here, Miss Jordan, talked to him about Jesus and how it was Jesus that had helped us, through the medicine and prayer, to help him. He was very attentive. Do pray for Lako that he'll give his heart to Jesus.
I could relate many sad incidents of people who come to the clinic. A baby was brought in, badly burned. She was about Christy's age. Thinking of our little Christy helped me to be even more compassionate toward the little darling and her parents. She would whimper so pitifully. They had taken her to the witch doctor before bringing her to us. By the time they got her to the clinic, she was so near death we couldn't help her. The poor little thing passed away and Larry and I went to visit the grief-stricken parents. Their broken-earted wails made cold chills run down my spine. I thought, "They loved their little darling just as much as Donnie and Sharon love their little Christy."
Donnie felt a chill go down his spine. No, no! They're just heathen. They can't love their baby as much as I love Christy. It would kill me if Christy would die.
He reached for a cigarette. His conscience smote him as he took a draw. It was the first time he had smoked in his mother's house since coming home. But he was so jittery. He had to do something to calm his nerves.
Christy! What if she would have an accident! Suppose she would get badly burned or get run over by a car, or get real sick. Sharon wouldn't even know how to contact me!
Looking at his watch, Donnie saw that it was nearly midnight--too late to call. But even now Christy could have a raging fever, he thought. Sharon should know where he was. He got out of bed, went to the phone and picked up the receiver. But then realized that it would frighten the whole family to get a call so late at night. And they would never understand his concern, especially if there was nothing wrong.
Donnie hung up the phone and paced back and forth. An indescribable horror gripped his heart. Had something happened to Christy? What if she would die? What if God took little Christy away from them? No, no, no! God wouldn't do that. God wasn't that cruel. But ... what did God owe him? He had rejected Him for years. He had spurned His love and mercy and shook off the prayers that had gone up for him. God might take Christy to punish him . . . Maybe she would burn to death, like the little baby in New Guinea. Donnie became frantic. What could he do? Where could he turn?
When you come to the end of yourself, you can turn to Jesus and He will take you in.
That letter from Ralph! Will I never get away from it?
Ralph! Maybe that was the answer. Donnie picked up the telephone directory and looked up Ralph's number. As he picked up the phone, he heard the clock strike twelve midnight. He couldn't bother Ralph at this time of the night, for he had to go to work early.
Dropping the telephone, he began once more to pace the floor. His mind was tortured with vivid scenes of Christy in trouble. He smoked one cigarette after another. Seeing Connie's letter on the floor where he had dropped it, he picked it up to finish it.
I trust all is well with you. I'm thankful for the kindness of the church people. I would never have left you, Mom, except that God ordained it. You have encouraged me to mind God every step of the way, and I appreciate that. Surely He has a special reward laid up for you. I pray for you daily. Also, for Donnie. I believe God is hearing us in behalf of Donnie. He's probably miserable. But whatever it takes, I want to see him saved. I'm praying for God to get to him, at any cost . God may have to do something drastic to get his attention. My dear twin brother! How I love him and want to see him make it to heaven.
Donnie did not read the rest. He folded the letter and put it in the envelope. Putting the rubber band back around the stack of letters, he went to his mother's room and placed them in the drawer where he had found them. Some day he would read the others, but he had read enough for now. Connie's words, "God may have to do something drastic to get his attention," were added torment to his already overloaded brain.
Suddenly, Donnie felt panicky. The walls of the house seemed to be closing in on him. He got dressed and went out. It was pitch dark. He felt scared. Why? he didn't know. He had never been afraid of the dark before. Reaching his car, he unlocked the door and got in, backed out of the driveway and started for the expressway. Where he was going, he knew not, but he felt he had to get away from the awful pressure within.
He drove for an hour. All the while, the awful battle raged within. He felt torn to pieces. What was happening to him? Were
his nerves cracking up? Was he losing his mind?
He glanced at his gas gauge. If he turned around now, he would probably have enough gas to get home. There were no service stations open at this time of the night. He had to be sensible. He didn't feel like being stranded in the wee hours of the morning. He took the next exit and headed back toward Terryville. For the third time, he felt for his cigarettes, and, for the third time, remembered he had left them at home. He rolled the window down and stuck his head out in the fresh air. His mind felt as if it would explode. He had to get relief, but how?
When you come to the end of yourself . . .
"I'm already to the end of myself," he cried out. "If I don't get help soon, I'll crack up."
The night was nearly over when Donnie pulled into the driveway and entered the house once more. He felt thoroughly exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. He looked at the clock.
I'm supposed to be at the hospital at six o'clock in the morning. Two hours to sleep! How will I ever make it?
He undressed and took a hot shower, then swallowed two aspirins for his throbbing headache and got back into bed. He then remembered he had not pulled out the alarm. He snapped on the light to see if the clock was set for five, and pulled out the alarm.
Once again he lay back on his pillow, but sleep did not come to blot out his troubled thoughts. The tears started slowly at first, then he began to sob great shaking sobs as he gave vent to his mixed-up feelings. After a while, he felt quieted and, at last, fell asleep.
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