Beautiful Gifts

Each Saturday as  we travel back to Zomba from Kainga and Pahuwa, we discuss the lesson with  Hellen, our interpreter. We want to hear her perspectives on how the day went and to clarify any communication. There have been times when these discussions have helped us learn some details George and I missed.  Hellen's comments and suggestions are always helpful and encouraging. 

In the midst of our discussion last Saturday I turned to the back seat to tell Hellen and Samuel  that the following day, March 24, was George's birthday. "I will be 39," George announced. They both laughed and congratulated him. 

Sunday afternoon we pulled into the Shoprite parking lot in  Zomba where Hellen came up behind the car and queitly slid into the back seat.   I have had interpreters who did fair work, and I have had some that I had to help as they limped along.  Hellen, however, understands the small nuances of the English language so well that  it is never a struggle for either of us.  My heart suddenly filled with gratitude.   I wouldn't even have  an opportunity to minister to the women on the mountain  without her help.  

I turned to  greet her and saw that she was smiling. She was extending a small cake she had made from rice flour and bananas. Although this cake would never have won a baking competition,  it was nonetheless a beautiful gift.  I know that Hellen doesn't have a kitchen,  and her cooking is done with three rocks and a pot over an open fire in her back yard.

Some of you may know that our house is in a large compound, and our groundskeeper, Harry, lives with his wife and five children in a little two room house just inside the compound walls and  across the driveway from us.  He tends the beautiful terraced gardens and keeps our gate. Since we moved to Malawi in November 2012, I have been so blessed by knowing Harry.

Although we have never asked him to, Harry washes our car each morning, and if we leave the door unlocked, he will wipe down the interior and clean the mats. While cleaning our car, there have several occasions when Harry has found money we dropped on the floorboard.  He could have been tempted to keep money we didn't even know we lost, but he always leaves it on the dashboard. I respect Harry's honesty. 

When George casually walked over to Harry's house a few days ago, he was sitting on his front porch reading a tattered Chichewa Bible that had been read and reread  until the volume was expanded to twice its original size.  What a beautiful unpretentious faith. 

Another gift came this morning about 8:00 am with a knock at our back door. There stood Harry extending a tray of fresh picked maize from his own field.   Maize we could easily buy at the market, but it was more than that. It was a gift of friendship, which is priceless.