Chapter 40 - Home to my Tribe
My new life is joyful and fulfilling, but the longing to do mission work is always present. When will we live overseas? Where is my tribe? When Rev. Peterson invites people to come to the front of the church at the end of the Sunday night service to pray, I often walk to the altar, kneel, and pour out my heart to God with tears.
“I will send you,” the Lord speaks to me. “Just be patient.”
One day I express my longing to Larry. “Even if we don’t do missions yet, it would mean so much to visit my parents in Irian Jaya, to have you and Nick see the Dani tribe. But it costs so much to fly!”
“Well, we can put our townhouse up for sale. Since houses have been built around us, the value of ours has increased. We could take part of the profit and travel around the world.”
“That would be amazing! Why don’t we pray that if the Lord wants this, he’ll just send us a buyer. God can do that.”
And so we pray…and a week or two later I receive a call from a realtor. “I have a client, a widow who is looking for a home in your area. Are you interested in selling your townhome and relocating?”
“Why yes,” I choke out, slightly shocked. My husband and I were just discussing the possibility of selling.”
After showing the house and agreeing on a price, we close, storing our belongings with relatives. That September we fly west to Irian Jaya, with Ken Peterson leading the single parent group for ten weeks.
We land in Bali rumpled and jet lagged. And I awake in the early dawn to the raucous calls of tropical birds in the hotel garden. The tropics. I sit quietly on the balcony watching the day brighten with vivid color, listening to the birds answering one another. It’s like being back in Sentani, my childhood world given back…I am in grateful wonder.
We rent motorbikes and explore some of the island, Nick riding behind Larry. Then a few days later we land in Biak, on to Sentani, and hug Mom and Dad, laughing with joy. “I can’t believe we’re here,” I exclaim. “Sentani airport is so modern!”
Dad chuckles. “We’re much more advanced and civilized now. More cars, electricity, buildings. You’ll have to see Jayapura!”
“Nicky, you’ve grown so much,” Mom smiles, hugging him. “I can hardly believe you’re six.”
I discover Sentani School now has over 100 kids, with more dorms and a dining hall. Even a swimming pool that Samaritan’s Purse (with Franklin Graham) has donated. And Jayapura, about 30 miles distant is a small metropolis. Only Base G Beach looks the same, with rusting World War II tankers lined up near waving palm trees.
Our flight into the Ilaga Valley moves me the most. I am truly home again! The deep valley looms wider as we descend slowly, circling. Across its breadth I can see large tin roofs with sunlight flashing off them. “Those must be the churches across the valley,” I tell Larry. “So amazing!”
We bounce up the grassy strip and it’s like I am nine years old again, landing at my new home in the Ilaga. Only now there are fewer Danis to greet us, and some wear clothes instead of gourds or grass skirts. But they whoop and shout like before, and after the plane takes off we all sit in a group at the edge of the airstrip. Dad translates our greetings to them, their welcomes to us. As Larry is expressing his appreciation, he begins to weep. “All of these churches across the valley,” he explains. “You are following Jesus, and I get to see the years of God’s work here.” He wipes his eyes.
“Look,” my dad interjects in Dani. “Larry is crying, and his name means weeping, ‘Le adi,’ in your language. See, that’s his name.”
“Aiah…ti abed o,” the Danis respond. “So true….and here is Larson and Peggy’s grandson. What is his name?”
“Nicholas…Nicky,” Dad answers.
“We greet you, Nikki,” an old man says, shaking his hand Dani style.
“Say ‘Kayonak,’ Nick,” I urge him.
“Kayonak, kayonak,” he laughs.
The next two weeks we are nourished with Mom’s delicious meals, in my Ilaga home. We sleep in my old bedroom, and in the afternoon I look out of the window at gray windswept sheets of rain approaching like silk skirts, whispering up the valley. Then the rain pounds deafeningly on the tin roof.
Nick runs around the compound with other Dani boys, practicing on a small set of bow and arrows, and nearly kills one of Grandma’s chickens! And we enjoy a pig feast to welcome us in a nearby village, with steamed pork, greens, sweet potatoes, and kom (taro root).
One Sunday evening there is a large gathering of around 1,000 in the large new church down the hill. The kerosene pump lamps shine above dark heads, men on one side, women on the other. Dad translates for Larry and me…I feel privileged to share the Word among these people—my tribe. While teaching I express my love and longing for them, how I have missed the Ilaga all these years. But now we are together, and someday we will all be in Heaven eternally. I can tell the Danis are moved…most remember me from childhood. We are one family.
Danny my brother is also in the valley for a few months, so one evening we sit in a large men’s house and he records conversation and Dani singing. The resonant sing-song of tribal voices praising the Lord moves me deeply. I will remember this night forever.
After more days on the coast we hug goodbye with tears, and fly off, heading west. Ujung Pandang, Jakarta, Karachi, New Dehli. We are in awe of the Taj Mahal in Agra. Larry and Nick are sick with dysentery…we are more careful with food and drink afterwards.
On to Israel, the YMCA in Jerusalem, where I stayed with my parents as a teenager. Renting a car, we visit the Temple Mount, Nazareth, the Sea of Galilee, Jericho, Bethlehem, showing them to Nick. And on to Rome, Paris, London…we are all tired of travel when we land back in Minneapolis at the end of ten weeks. It seems strange to sit in the service at Souls Harbor and find it the same! So much has happened to us.
And where can we now live? We camp a few weeks in a suite on the 12th floor of Souls Harbor and begin to lead the single parents again. We pray. Somehow it doesn’t seem time to launch out in missions yet. We do have a fresh burden to disciple some of the newer Christians in the Group. Rev. Peterson tells us about four large homes the church owns in south Minneapolis. Would we like to use them as discipleship homes?
We tour them and pray. There are two large older houses, and two duplexes which have been recently decorated…the Lord gives us vision for community and discipleship. “Yes, we’d like to rent them,” we tell Pastor Peterson. “Thanks for the opportunity!”
Slowly the large homes on Pillsbury Ave. are filled. Three in a row, one across the street. We move into the lower level of one Victorian duplex, and Chuck and Lucy Melena, newly married from the Group move into the upper level. As good friends, they are going to assist us. Joanne Holley and Sharon Madigan each have three children…they will live next door in the other duplex. Ken Peterson, Ken Freeman, and Ty Story move into the men’s home on the corner, and Julie Barnes leads the women’s home across the street.
Our first community meeting is warm, lively. “You know, there’s three women settling into The Palace,” Julie informs us. “That’s what we decided to name our home across the street. And there’s a new girl named Shirley who wants to move in and be discipled, with her four year old daughter. She’s outgoing and fervent for the Lord.”
“Sounds like a great candidate.” Larry responds. “She’ll fit into the family here!”
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