How young you were when Nestor took you as his woman. I
remember asking someone if you had even reached puberty yet.
Hearing your laughter and singing. You rarely missed an
opportunity to dance and sing and tell stories and laugh with the young people
late into the night.
The way you took care of your own Chancéline. You sang to
her, carried her everywhere, did cute things with her hair until she was old
enough to become a little mama to her cousins and her little sister.
How you fought a battle with tuberculosis, and won, though
it left your body weak and worn down. The pregnancies you lost and the pain,
frustration and disappointment because your body wouldn’t keep a baby.
Hearing your cries and wails as your husband beat you
because you “wouldn’t listen”. Seeing your marriage grow and your commitment,
love and support for your husband as you both learned what it meant to follow
Komba and His Son, Yesua.
Seeing you clearly communicate how you gave your life to
Yesua and wanted to be baptized. Watching you down in the river publicly
witness to others in obedience to Christ.
Watching you in church raise up song after song. How you
encouraged your sister & her kids, your mother and your brother to be a
part of the church body.
How you always had a baby in your arms, always smiling and
talking and cuddling those nieces, nephews and kids of neighbors and friends.
Your hard work, whether it was gathering from the forest,
planting your own fields, odd jobs for money or preparing meals for discipleship
retreats or other community gatherings.
Your faithfulness to learn more about Christ. How you
attended the Oral Storying Workshops and learned some of the OT Likano by memory.
Your faithful attendance and participation in our weekly women’s Bible studies.
Your quiet humility in talking to Komba in prayer. How you
went from praying general prayers of blessing and health to praying for specific
neighbors in need. The time we met, just the two of us, and talked and prayed
for a specific Baka sister in need.
How you courageously tried hosting your own Bible studies with
neighborhood kids and leading health lessons during a leadership seminar. How you prayed with your own household every evening. How you showed and taught other women what it looked like to follow Christ.
How you took in anyone who had need as if they were your own,
including your husband’s 3 nephews. How you & Nestor built your house big
enough so that you could host visitors.
Being known to you as “Nathan’s wife”, then “Wife-of-my-husband’s-friend”,
then “My friend” and finally “La La”.
How this doesn’t sum up all the sweet memories I have of
you. How my heart is torn up knowing that on this earth I’ll never hear your
laughter, see your smile or hear your voice giving a testimony to what God has
done in your life. How I hate the pain and the empty hole your death has left
in the hearts of your daughter, your husband, your mother, your family and your
friends.
How joyful I am that you are no longer suffering. How your
body is no longer in pain. How you no longer suffer from fatigue. How you no
longer will catch every virus and sickness passing through the village. How you
are with Jesus! How you are having a face to face conversation with our Creator…in
Baka!!!
You are free. You are at peace. You are who you were created
to be without any restrictions of this world. I can’t wait to see you again, my
friend.
