Forever
A Memory
I
am amazed at how little language is actually needed to communicate. I had
stayed at the base two days in a row awaiting phone calls letting me know what
was going on with my very ill grandpa. On day two Pastor Christian, whose house
we were staying at, looked at me a little concerned. He asked in what little English
he knew, “Are you ok?” I replied, yes, like I had a few other times, only this
time it wasn’t good enough. This time he stopped and said, “No, something’s
wrong!” and waited for me to respond. I, by the grace of God, was able to
communicate that my grandpa was very ill.
A few hours had passed and I
received the phone that my grandpa had passed away. I was at the house alone,
except for the housekeeper and Pastor Christian. Being a verbal processer I
sought out Pastor Christian. He could see in my face how sad I was. Without
missing a beat he grabbed my hand and started praying in Kreyole. After he
finished praying he continuously repeated I’m sorry. This act of love is
forever a memory.
