Captain's Log #38
January, 2004

from the Captain's Wife

Something Familiar...
When I first saw her in November, 2002, her face lit up like she had waited all her life to see me. Somehow she looked vaguely familiar, although I knew intellectually that there was no way I could have ever laid eyes on this bright smile, tears forming at the corners of her faded brown eyes. She spoke almost no English and I was in my first term of Fijian language study.  She could barely say, "Hello... I-am-happy-to-see-you" and I was just learning how to ask directions to the restroom. She motioned for me to sit by her and began to make me understand through broken English, careful, slow Fijian and lots of hand signs that she had come, along with her husband, her son and his family, by way of the small fiberglass boat that served as church 'bus', from way up the coast...from the interior village of Niudua (One Coconut).
 
A Chance Meeting?
What had brought us here today? We had ultimately traveled from the other side of the world, over 22 hours by jet airplane, and now another 8 hours by boat to be here for this Sunday... this special Christmas Service at the top of this hill on this island overlooking Koro Levu Bay. This was the first church that had been planted through Nazarene Maritime Ministries well over a year ago now.  What had brought her here today? She had walked over an hour down the path through the rich inland tropical jungle, across the rivers and through the mangroves...and then an long journey through the coastal reef system by boat,  to join in worship and celebration at a brand new Church of the Nazarene on a remote outer island in the nation of Fiji.  Somehow she made me understand, more through tears and touches than through words, that God had finally answered her prayers... prayers she and her husband had prayed for years... prayers that God would send a people to teach her family and her village about what she had come to know was true... God is Love. She finished with "Thank-You for to come.", and squeezed my hand. She told me to call her Buumbu... Grandma, and when we left, she cried.
 
Trip to the City
Weeks later, back on the main-land, one afternoon I came home hot and tired from a busy day in town. Harmon would be home any time now from his latest trip to Kadavu; he would be hungry and I wanted to get something cooking for his supper. As I rounded the corner of the building, I noticed that the boat had already arrived. I quickly turned to go inside the apartment where we live by the sea-wall when I did a double take at the two old people sitting in the yard with their boxes and mats piled high around them.  Where did I know them from? It was Buumbu and Tuutu... Grandma and Grandpa... from "One Coconut" in Kadavu! He shook my hand, smiled with his single tooth, and nodded. She hugged me and sniffed my cheek as is the custom of Fijian women ... taking in the fragrance of a loved one when reunited after a long time... and she cried.
 
Harmon quickly explained that he had brought them from Kadavu because they wanted to begin the long legal and traditional procedures and protocol of donating their family-inherited land for the purpose of planting a Nazarene church in their village of Niudua and could I give them a ride to the place they would be staying? I grabbed Danielle and one of the Fijian church members to help with translation and headed for the parking lot with all their possessions in tow. Buumbu and Tuutu looked like children... amazed and a little frightened at the sights and sounds of the city. As we pulled onto the highway, Buumbu exploded with a burst of fast and nervous Fijian like I had never heard... even in this... now my second term of Fijian language study. My translator laughed and explained that she was shocked that I knew how to drive and - weren't we sure going fast?! I smiled at her and she nodded her trust and approval.
 
These things take time in Fiji and it would be many weeks while the proper signatures of the significant family members representing all the currently living descendents of this 'matangali' (family group) were sought and hopefully obtained.  Each week I made my way up the winding road to the settlement where they were staying. Each week I bravely tried more and more of my expanding Fijian vocabulary. She showed me how to weave a Fijian mat from dried leaves. I gave her a photo of herself. She told how God had gotten ahold of her as a young girl and she had been walking with him ever since and how she had prayed for a church like ours to come. Each week I went back, as promised on Sunday morning to take them to church. Each week when I took them home in the late afternoon, as I drove away... Buumbu stood at the roadside and cried.
 
I was especially looking forward to seeing her one week.  I had figured out how - all in Fijian - to let her know of the upcoming District Ladies' Retreat and that I wanted to take her as my guest. She clapped her hands and in her excitement, forgot to speak slowly and I had to get her calmed down before she could carefully and clearly let me know that she was accepting my offer and would be ready to go on the appointed day and time.  We had a wonderful time together.  It was there when I learned she was 73 years old.
 
Goodbye...
Finally the day came when this stage of the paper work was finished and it was time for Buumbu and Tuutu to return to their home in Niudua.  It was before dawn when I again made my way up the winding road to pick them up and take them to the boat for their trip back to the island of Kadavu.  As we said our good-byes at the sea-wall, I spoke with confidence... "Au lomani iko".  She smiled and choked back the tears as she answered in English, "I - love - you".
We both cried that morning.
 
Many Months Later...
I was so excited! I had given the kids a couple days off from school and we had joined Harmon on this trip to Kadavu; the main reason was that I wanted to see Buumbu and Tuutu.  This time we would be the ones to take the trip up the coast and then walk through the dense rainforest and across the rivers to get to their humble home and the little shelter standing next to it that now served as the Niudua Church of the Nazarene.  I had been practicing and practicing and was so excited because I was going to be able, in semi-fluent 3rd term Fijian, to say, "sa dede na noqu via raici iko....." , "it's been a very long time, my wanting to see you...." As we crossed the last stream and I looked across that valley and up to the hill on the other side, I could see her standing, waving a white cloth to welcome us.  I began to rehearse my conversation in my mind. When I finally reached her at the top of the hill, she laid her head on my shoulder and cried.....and my practiced speech failed me completely.  There is a language that breaks down all barriers and goes beyond all words and it usually involves tears, but it always involves hearts.  And I realized what it was that was so familiar about her so long ago... she is a child of God... and what I had recognized, shining through her life, was the very image of our eternal Father. Oh God... that you might be seen in me.
 
"How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!...  we know that when he appears, we shall be like him..." 1 John 3:1-2

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