Missionary diaconal worker Marjanne Hendriksen leads a education project in Zambia. In this story, she shares a lesson in letting go of control during a rainy season.
Lesson in silence
“It really is miraculous after all! I have just pronounced the last sentence of my last lesson, when the storm erupts over the little church in Ngombe, a slum in Lusaka. The rain showers I have been experiencing almost daily for weeks this year can best be compared to what we call a cloudburst in the Netherlands. Sometimes you can hear the murmur approaching from afar. Sometimes such a shower is suddenly there. And when something like that erupts over your head, you don't start anything. Most houses and churches here have corrugated iron roofs. When the rain pelts down on those, it cannot be drowned out.
So now that I have exactly completed my teaching programme for this week, I silently thank the Lord for the timing of the rain. The only thing left to do is to hand out certificates. I look at the circle of students around me and gesture that we should just wait. We try to sing a little, but that too is inaudible. Soon a number of people shift their seats to another place, as the roof of the church appears to be leaking in several places. Right behind my back, too, a trickle of water begins to form a sizeable puddle. Outside, I see the rainwater streaming past the church at flying speed. Water enters over the threshold of the outer door. At one point, much of the church floor is wet. How long will this last? While gesticulating, we decide to ‘call’ the right person to the front and hand over the certificate. Of course, everything is photographed by people with phones at hand. While gesticulating, we even manage to arrive at the right arrangement for a group photo. Those who have umbrellas with them, at some point drip off anyway.
I myself sprint to the car that is coming to pick me up. Driving through one of those underwater slums makes you wonder how people can live here. Rubbish floats everywhere. For instance, what happens to the contents of those outdoor toilets? I won't write down what I sometimes see ...
Two weeks later, the timing of another such downpour seems less appropriate. I bristle. I should already have been teaching for three quarters of an hour at a school in Kitwe. But something suddenly intervenes for the teachers I am expecting in my training. A team from a bank is coming to explain something about a savings programme. This team appears an hour later than agreed and is now so much in my way. For me, there is nothing else to do but wait quietly until it is my turn.
Just when I have all the teachers in front of me, it suddenly starts raining and thundering outside, no bar! I have never experienced anything this intense. I see the people in front of me shove away from the windows and repeatedly cringe. Teaching I can forget about. Hang on, here I have a blackboard. And crayons. That's another thank you!
I write some Bible passages on the board and gesture for people to start reading them. While they are busy, I write some questions to accompany the different scripture passages. I silently pray that the rain will stop and I will still be able to teach the corresponding lessons later. It doesn't seem like it. The rain is still gushing down. Oh, but wait! I can have the group prepare the Bible story for the next day in advance. Then we'll do that first, instead of at the end of the lesson. Fortunately, I explained the method in detail yesterday. Let them see how far they have mastered it now. The assignment also appears on the blackboard.
While the teachers are working diligently, I am waiting in ‘peace’ for what is to come. I also have lessons to learn. I can reflect on that nicely now. Flexibly bend with what comes your way. Not getting frustrated when things go differently than planned. Planned? What kind of word is that? Today alone, the time when I will be taken to the next place has changed five times. First it was going to be Friday afternoon right after training. Then it became Saturday. Then again it wasn't. Friday then? No, suddenly it couldn't be. Then Saturday morning anyway. In the end, Saturday afternoon worked out better. And I still hope it doesn't change again ...
How do these people I have in front of me right now do it anyway? They seemingly always just take life as it comes. Or does this all have to do with the lesson from Philippians 4:6 and 7?
After just under an hour, the teachers pretty much finished their assignments. And how special! The huge pouring of rain slowly turns into a more lovely downpour, which I am able to drown out. In the end, I am also able to cover exactly all the scheduled lessons today! Who is in control of my life and work is not a question for me ...”
