Happily Ever After

by Jenn Faulk

~Cammie~

  She’d stayed up too late the night before.

  Once David and Piet left, she’d had time to talk to Kait, one on one.

  And now that she knew Kait had been very deeply involved in the board and its matters, Camille had a whole lot she wanted to talk about with her.

  The same was true going the other direction as well.

  “I was by myself in Brazil, for the most part,” Camille said, answering Kait’s question, as they talked about where she’d been, what all she’d done. “But there were ten of us in Russia.”

  Kait nodded, grinning over the Dr. Pepper she held in her hand. “I read that in the list of jobs you’d held. And all ten of you were women. Crazy.”

  “Not so much,” Camille shrugged. “You know the numbers. How it goes.”

  She’d always go back to this, no matter where she was. It was almost as if she was holding up her willingness to go, her willingness to put herself far away from home and a normal life, as a credit to her spirituality. When she’d go back to the US on furlough and meet men in ministry, it was always a thorn of sorts to her, the way they’d acknowledge what she did with nods and affirm that they were glad they weren’t called to that.

  She knew it was wrong, but she was proud of it. Proud that she was one of the few who went.

  And at the same time, she was resentful. Because it cost so much.

  She’d felt the truth of that as she’d seen Piet kiss Kait goodbye earlier.

  This was what it cost. Regular relationships.

  “It is a bit skewed,” Kait acknowledged. “Which is what’s so unusual about being here. There’s David, of course. A man who could have any ministry job he wanted back in the US, with his father being who he is.”

  Camille caught this mention, just as she had the earlier mention, up in Tsumeb, of Paul Connor.

  “You know about David’s dad?” she asked.

  Kait looked at her for a long moment. “Everyone in the convention knows about Paul Connor. Or they will, at least.”

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, Camille registered something odd about this comment. Sure, Paul Connor was a big deal back home, but he certainly didn’t garner the interest in Kait’s eyes as she had mentioned him.

  Before she could question it, Kait was already back to the subject that Camille could (and did) talk into the ground.

  Men. And how they left the work of foreign missions to women.

  “So, there’s David here,” Kait said. “Unusual. A single man in a career position. And before him, years ago? The pioneer missionary from the board was a man. Single, too. Served for ten years here, all by himself, never even leaving Africa when he was on furlough.”

  “Good for him,” Camille murmured. “That’s commitment.”

  “Commitment or stubbornness,” Kait shrugged. “But he was the only one in all the board’s personnel, way back then. The only single man serving in a career capacity. The rest were short term or married.”

  “Or women,” Camille said. “How many single women were serving in career roles at the same time?”

  “Seventy-eight,” Kait grinned. “But maybe that was a direct result of the way the board advertises itself. We name our foundations and our organizations for single women missionaries in our history who paved the way... not men.”

  “Single women,” Camille said, thinking of the very ones she’d seen quoted, from centuries past, who were the very faces of overseas ministry for their convention. “And even those ladies pointed out that it was a shame that the men wouldn’t stand up and do more.”

  “That they did,” Kait nodded. “And that’s what the board promotes. A bunch of spinster ladies living for Christ overseas and browbeating and shaming the men into being men.”

  Camille bristled just a little at this description. Spinster. Browbeating. Shaming.

  “Doesn’t mean the men aren’t culpable for ignoring the call overseas,” Kait said.

  “They are culpable,” Camille noted.

  “But you’ve got to wonder what came first. The chicken or the egg? Us teaching little boys that our missionary heroes are women, or the lack of men willing to go with that stereotype hanging over their heads?”

  No easy answers, obviously.

  “Well, here in Namibia. Single men. That’s the history,” Camille murmured.

  “Yeah,” Kait smiled at her. “Of course, that one single guy before David didn’t stay single. He was here for ten years by himself. Then, the board sent a woman in a temporary position to do something that wasn’t part of any of his strategies at all. Irritated him plenty, probably, but didn’t stop him from marrying her and spending thirty years with her here.”

  “Wow,” Camille breathed. “Does that happen often?”

  “No,” Kait said. “Personnel who’ve been single that long or even just as long as you, working on the field... they stay single.” She shrugged. “Which is good. Makes it easier to serve Christ if you’re sold out and content with never marrying. Husbands, kids – they tend to compete for your loyalty.”

  “Mmmhmm,” Camille murmured, feeling, at the same time, inexplicably sad about being lumped into the category of forever single missionaries and proud that she was able to serve Christ without distractions. “Well, good for the board. Here in Namibia. Having David, one of the very few single men out there, working here so faithfully.”

  Kait had grinned at this. “Oh, yeah. And you know how they like to brag about the men. More so than the women.”

  Oh, yeah, Camille knew about this, too. Politics, perceptions. The board made itself look more favorable, thought it made Christ’s commands to go to all the nations more palatable if they could hold up men who had other options yet still embraced it as their calling.

  This was irritating as well.

  Because in a career where she’d given everything to be faithful, she was still heralded less than a man would be in the same situation. Because men were still heralded in a way that women weren’t.

  There was some chauvinism there, definitely. And if she wasn’t more convicted about the fact that she felt the need to be heralded at all for serving Jesus, of all things, she would have been more righteously indignant about it all.

  Of course, she was already righteously indignant enough about it.

  “Well, good for them,” she muttered to Kait.

  She’d remembered it all again the next day when they’d arrived for the party.

  There were students everywhere. Word of mouth had done its work amongst the regular teens, and the news about this party had spread to what certainly felt like every student in town, all of them having just arrived from the north like a swarm.

  Camille spent the time moving from one task to another, getting things ready until Kait finally waved her away.

  “Go meet them,” she said, her hands full of the packages she and Piet were busy getting out to the students. “David’s got a whole crowd over by the seawall. Go over and meet them.”

  Camille did this gladly, having hoped for the opportunity all afternoon and having been disappointed when the tasks kept her from it. She made her way to David’s side where he began introducing her around.

  She’d parted ways from him thirty minutes later, so into conversations with a huge group of girls, all of them firing one question after another at her about life in Texas, giving her suggestions of places to see in Namibia, and already forming relationships that she was certain would define her life here in this new place.

  She was so into all that they were discussing that it took a long moment before she realized that someone was singing and playing a guitar.

  It took her a few more moments after that to connect that voice to David Connor.

  His speaking voice had matured, so it just made sense that his singing voice would have as well. And while she’d only known him to be able to play a few chords (and that was bad enough), he’d obviously figured out how to do a little more.

  He was actually quite good.
>
  As he sang familiar songs – familiar to Camille, familiar to the students there – he found her eyes in the crowd and gestured her up with a nod of his head.

  “Maybe Camille will sing harmony for us,” he said, even as he continued playing, smiling over at her.

  She could do this easily enough, and so she picked up the song with him, seamlessly joining in what he was doing.

  As the song continued into another and Camille began to worship from her heart, she thanked God that He’d sent her here, to a place where she seemed to fit right in.