Wolves at the Door

There’s a song I wish I could put on my page…since the only sites I know to put my own mix on my page died I’ve not been able to add music the way I like.  The song talks about memories from the past being like wolves scratching at the door.  My memories aren’t all dark…in fact time heals a lot of wounds…perhaps not all of them as the old adage goes but some at least.  My wolves are at least partially domesticated I guess you could say.  Opening the door…expecting the wolves I see instead the African mission grounds that we stayed on the first time I went to Ghana.  We spent many an hour waiting on rides to other places…African time they called it…well it effected the Americans plenty.  One such time two beautiful little girls happened along wearing their Sunday best.  Ghanaians always wear their best to church.  I found their respect for God really inspiring.  We often found ourselves arriving before the regular service started…sometimes those were the best parts of the day.  I think the thing about the mission field that’s hard to get used to is the moments where you’ve got nothing to do but entertain yourself looking at things like the mission ground pet monkeyor marveling at the greenery you’d never see…it least not if you’re a Montanan like myselfto entering meetings where there’s so much going on.  Here in America it seems many are loath to show their spirituality…in Ghana that’s not the case at all.  Our church is already very lively so it’s not hard to get involved.  Days off are never truly days off but I love them none the less.  I never get tired of seeing things I’d never see at home…like someone picking coconuts from a tall treeor seeing Pastor Harry’s children enjoy the swing on the mission grounds.  I wonder just how many miles we traveled with Pastor Harry in this van.  Sometimes I look at our attempts to dress like the locals and shake my head.  About now, the day after spring made itself official all weather seems to be horrible for anything I can see in the extended future…I try to glean some warmth from the pictures of yesteryear.  Here is my Mom petting a dog that visited us on occasion.  Once we visited a place where many Ghanaians were trained to enter the ministry…it was one amazing meeting!  Understandably after meetings like that we felt a little drained…but where will we ever rest?  Someone took our favorite spot on the mission grounds!  Birthdays happen for us…on the field or not.  We always find ways to celebrate such things.  I can’t remember who’s birthday this was…it might have been my Mom’s.  I was only a teenager on these trips.  I didn’t preach yet but watching my Mom do so was always inspiring to me!  Just look at this African rhythm section!  Here is dear Pastor Harry, I’m not sure what the occasion was here, that is lost in the sands of time but I love this picture.  Days off were often spent at the market…it’s just not like Walmart.  Though I know southern states have red earth…we don’t here in Montana…I found it fascinatingand the unfinished structures we so often passed…what were they going to be?  Days on the beach…another favorite way to spend a rest day.  My African brother also named Joseph spent this day with us.  I found it incredible, coming from a landlocked state to find myself on an African shore.  Before I graduated I never dreamed I’d see such sights.  We met with various people that really impacted my young life.  It wasn’t always pastors…sometimes it was people like this man who put his life on the line to guard the compound for us.  Not every day was serious……not by a long shot!  Mom’s at the center of this chorus line!  I’ll end this today with a picture of a memorial graveyard in Zurich, Switzerland where we had a layover before heading back to America.  Stopping in the utter and complete order of Switzerland after the chaotic way we’d been living was a bit of a shock.  I am not sure which I love more but I do know for sure that if these memories are wolves scratching at more door…I’m not afraid to let them in!