Captain's Log #29
October, 2002

HOME?
It struck without warning this afternoon.  Oh, I am always aware of its passive presence, but I thought I'd learned to keep it manageable over these last years, so I was caught off guard at its alarming strength today.  Maybe it was the pumpkin sitting in the cooking corner of the hut where I was visiting the Fijian pastor's wife.  Maybe it was the uncharacteristic sharpness in the cool breeze blowing up from the Antarctic ice cap some thousands of miles to the south, bringing with it the reminder that this is October.

October was always my favorite month during the years we spent at the top of the mountain in New Mexico.  In the shadow of the aspen lined peaks of the Lincoln National Forest, the Hondo Valley apples would be ripe for harvesting and the kitchens up and down the stream flowing from Bonita Lake would no doubt be full of the mouth-watering fragrance of apple jelly, apple pies and apple dumplings.  The men would be making plans for hunting season.  The children would be donning jackets and searching for branches, just right for roasting hot-dogs and marshmallows, and the local rancher would be asked to drive the tractor for this year's hayride.... as if this were the first time to do such a thing.  As the days grow shorter and the air becomes crisper, the hearths would be warm... reflecting the first fires of the season in anticipation for the first snow to lay its thin veil over the pine trees.  My mind floods with emotion-filled memories of evenings spent around the kitchen table, sharing chocolate-chip waffles, animated games, and tear-streaked laughter with my mom and dad, who lived just down the mountain from us.  I miss them.  None of these scenes would be a part of this October for me.  In fact this would be the third year that these Autumn memories have become more precious because of their absence.  I was suffering a plain, old-fashioned case of home-sickness.

SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE
The air this October, is heavy with the humid expectation of the sultry tropical summer that will soon settle like a blanket and render us all motionless during the heat of the day for the next few months.  Three years ago I traded my snow shovel for a anchor, and climbed aboard the plane that carried me and my family to the South Pacific.  Now we live on this boat and serve as missionaries taking the message of Christ to these outer islands, otherwise mostly isolated in their remoteness.

THE JESUS FILM THIS WEEK
Later this evening, the hum of the outboard engine drew my attention across the water.  It was the JESUS Film team returning to the mv/GALILEAN from this week's worth of intensive evangelism/follow-up work. They have been up the coast beyond the village of Joma.  As their little coastal boat comes to a stop at our stern and we tie them up amidst the swells, they begin to pour out their stories.  The projector bulb had burned out the first night and so I had donated our small video-television that I use to homeschool the kids.  That first night, over 140 people had crowded around that small TV to hear and see played out the story of Jesus for the first time in their own language.  The next days had been filled from dawn to dusk with prayer, Bible study, counseling, and finally ended with a promise that our JESUS Film team would work toward the planting of the Church of the Nazarene in their village.  The young Fijian man pointed to his wife and family.  "God has called us to work for him... We will lead the new church... will you teach us?  Our village needs this Jesus!"

MY PRAYER
"God... Thank you for calling me and faithfully bringing me to this place. What a privilege to be a part of Your Kingdom work. I love it here.  I love the crashing surf and the salty air and the sapphire blue water and the white coral sand.  I don't love the storms and howling winds, but You have used that too. I love these loving dark-skinned people and their acceptance of me into their world.  I love the sights and smells and foods that are so very different from Hondo Valley.  Thank you that my husband and kids love You and the work You have led us into here, too.  And thank you for packing my life so full of precious people and precious memories that I can carry them with me where ever I go as I allow you to create new memories that will be just as treasured in the days and years to come.  Your word is true… “Everyone that has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much ...” Matt. 19:29. 

From my perspective as a wife and mother and daughter and sister and more, You are worthy of my worship.  I offer up to you something which I cherish… a fragrant offering … this faint longing for those familiar seasonal landmarks and my beloved family members.  I'm not asking that you lessen the pain that comes with these memories, for that is evidence of their value. You alone have given them to me and allowed them to be esteemed by me and I am grateful for this bittersweet opportunity to present my gift to you."

Cindy Schmelzenbach

October 2002

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