Captain's Log #43
December, 2004

One of the greatest privileges of being on the mission field is being able to raise our kids as MK's (missionary kids). Danielle is 14, and Quinton is 9. Our lives are full of color because of the gift God has given us in them. Growing up in Africa, I don't ever remember thinking of my parents as missionaries and us kids as anything less...  God had certainly called our whole family not just my dad and mom. Here, now for us in the South Pacific it is no different with my family. Captain's Log #43 is excerpts from Danielle's journal:

Diary of a Teenage MK - 2004

Docks...
The incessant sound of hammering beat on our ears. We were tired, exhausted, worn out, and beat down, but what we had accomplished was amazing. Two docks, reaching hopefully out through the twisting, serpentine tangle of a tropical mangrove jungle. No more wading through hip—deep quicksand with supplies for the church. No more calls for help from the nine-year-old pastor's son, Onisi, as he is stuck in mud up to his chest, holding a suitcase above his head to keep it out of the mud. No more embarrassing plops into the muck, and coming out covered in goo (that was me). No—now we have docks—beautiful, wooden, solid docks to step up onto. Docks that won't grab your feet and suck you down into inky stuff.  The Work and Witness team responsible will never know—although I think they might have some idea—how much these docks will affect the everyday lives of the people of Wairoro, Kadavu. They are a gift, straight from the mighty hand of a mighty God. Thank you.

Children...
"Um... um... Na Kalou a tukuna vei Noa... um... Au na sega ni... flood—what's flood in Fijian?!—Oh, yeah... luvu ni... vuravura... um... va'dua."

As I stumbled my way through the story of Noah's flood in Fijian, with my quickly growing vocabulary, and my less-than-perfect grammar, I thought how different this scene was than one in this same place, three years ago. My accent was still decisively American, which was, in the minds of the Fijian children, reason enough to tease me without adding the facts that I was white, I couldn't speak any intelligible language, I couldn't climb the hill without help, and I couldn't even open a coconut! Never mind that I didn't know any songs that they could understand, and I fell when crossing the river on the moss-covered, round rocks. No wonder the little children feared me, and the older children mocked me unmercifully. I was different, and nothing I could do would change that. There existed between us a gulf—culture, language, and skills—and it seemed like there was nothing in the world that could bridge it. Nothing in the world. But God could. And I knew that I would have to trust him to help these children to accept this kaivalagi (foreigner)... and I also knew that I would have to learn to open a coconut!

Three years later, there I was, helping the children act out a story—in Fijian. Afterwards, we did a craft, and the little childre were all asking me for help. When I'm there, I can hardly move for all the kids that want to sit in my lap or hold my hand or braid my hair. And I love every minute of it. The older kids still make fun of me, but they know that I can understand them, and that I can catch them in any game of tag—even in the jungle! And not only can I open a coconut, but I can get it down and grate it on a coconut grater, too! God is a master bridge builder, and I know that first hand. I wear a little thread on my wrist that one of the little girls in Kadavu gave me... just to remind me that God can bridge any gulf. 

Serving Him in Fiji,
Danielle Schmelzenbach

And from me (Harmon) to the rest of you, thank you for who you have been to us over this last year, continuously reminding us that we are never alone but instead part of such a great eternal family that stretches across these waters and around the world. 2004 has been an exhausting but awesome and rewarding year in which we have seen some of the most encouraging foundational forward movement with the work here in Fiji. The battles have been impressive, but the victories have been overwhelming. Our prayer this Christmas in the midst of all our lives that seem so 'all encompassing' is that together we all would not loose focus on Him who is able to do so exceedingly, abundantly more than either you wherever you are, or us here where we are, could ever, ever ask or think or imagine...

Our God Reigns,
Harmon

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