Have We No Rights? Part 5

With the care of the baby and the responsibility for the home devolving upon her, it was a good thing that Mary did enjoy study. She often said that she thought the Lord gave her, as a young mother, special help with the language, because He knew how much she had to do! Because she was so busy, however, she often sat up later at night over her books than was good for her health, and she became tired and worn out. The flu came along, and she was an easy victim. Poor John!

He had to be nurse, housekeeper, and baby-tender, all at the same time. The thing that worried Mary the most about being ill was that she was keeping John from his studies.

Mary was not entirely back to normal health when David's little sister was born. What a darling she was! Before her illness, Mary had been giving a short Bible talk at the women's meeting every other week; but now it seemed impossible to find time for the hours of preparation such a talk entailed. Because of her slow recovery it was finally decided that she and the children must go to a hill resort earlier than usual that summer. When she returned, she was horrified to realize that it had been six months since she had given a message in the native language.

She was feeling much better in every way, however, and settled down to "get back into the work." The girl who helped her had developed nicely, and now the two children could be entrusted to her care. In spite of John's slowness at the language, he had always been able to make himself understood, and the little church was growing. With his encouragement, they had started a preaching band, and went to nearby towns and villages with the Gospel. Sometimes they stayed away for several weeks at a time. They insisted that John accompany them; and indeed, he would not have been happy anywhere else. But more and more Mary found herself left alone at home with the children. Where was the happy home that she had wanted to establish for John? He was as dear and as kind as ever when she saw him--but he was away so much! And during the times he was at home, there were often visitors to see him.

On evenings when there were no visitors she always longed to say, "Come and sit in the easy chair, John, and we'll have a cozy time together," but her Puritan conscience usually overcame the promptings of her heart, and instead she would look at the clock and say brightly, "Oh, there's still time for you to get in an hour or two of study! Isn't that nice!"

The time pa.s.sed rapidly. John _did_ persevere with his language study, and very slowly got off the required examinations. Mary never had as much time as he did for study, but she usually kept ahead of him in the book work. She did not dream of trying to rival him in his knowledge of the spoken colloquial! At first she used to save up her problems for him to deal with, but she found that when he returned from a country trip he was always so tired that she did not like to burden him, and soon she was struggling alone with most of them. The children grew rapidly, and usually kept in health, although there were several occasions when they had serious illnesses. At such times she would realize afresh that, although the nearest fully qualified doctor was several days' journey away, the Great Physician was always near!

When David was four, two new missionaries, fresh from their term at language school, were sent to be with them--two bright, happy girls, whom Mary welcomed with all her heart. The care of the larger household took more time, but she did not grudge it. One was quick at the language, and one was slow. When the discouraged one would come with her troubles, Mary would comfort her by telling her that John had been slow too! The two girls became very fond of the children. Mary was almost overscrupulous about not allowing them to disturb the two, who were supposed to be giving all their time and effort to language study. The quick one, Alice, raced through two language exams, and then had a week in the country with the women's evangelistic team (organized a year previously, Mary being one of the chief promoters).

It was what Mary had longed to do herself ever since the band was started, but--well, she had her babies! After all, they _were_ the most precious children in the world! But when Alice returned, bubbling over with the novelties and thrills of a week in the country (fortunately she was not afflicted with a delicate digestion, and could eat anything with relish--and comfort!), poor Mary, had all she could do to "rejoice with them that do rejoice." Afterward, in the privacy of her own room (John was not at home, and the children were asleep), she finally let go, and the sobs came--stifled by the bedclothes, so that the children would not be awakened.

And then it was time for furlough! The homeland seemed strange at first, but they soon got used to things. Everyone was extremely kind, and showered them with gifts. The meeting with loved ones and friends was all that they had expected; but the strain of living with their children in other people's homes (even though they were the homes of their own dear ones) made things difficult. The relatives constantly petted the children, and discipline became a problem. Finally they were able to get an apartment of their own for a few months, and David started kindergarten. John was constantly in demand as a deputation speaker, and he traveled back and forth, speaking in many places.

Sometimes Mary thought, with a sigh, that she saw less of him on furlough than she had on the field!

Certainly they were having a wonderful time at home, but still it would be nice to get back to the field again! Then, with the thought, came a stab of pain--for she knew that when that time arrived it would mean sending little David off to school. The school for missionaries'

children was a long way from their part of the field, and the most they could hope for after that was to have David during the summers, and on their furloughs. Her little David! Going so far from home, among strangers! Perhaps she could keep him awhile, and teach him at home. If only the leaders of the Mission were not so strict about insisting that all children of school age be sent to the school for missionaries' children! What did they know of a mother's love for her little boy? But before this thought was fully formed, her heart was reproving her. Of course they knew. Most of them had children of their own. It was all for the children's good. She had no training for teaching, and look how busy she had always been! Wherever did she think she would get time to teach David?

Besides, her mind ran on, David needed to be with other children of his own age and race, and to get the "give-and-take" that school life provides. Kindergarten had already been a help. And on the field there were so many other difficulties! While they were still there, she had tried her best not to let David feel that he was different from, or superior to, the children he played with; but she just couldn't let him do all the things that they did. And he had always wanted to know, why--why couldn't he wipe his nose on the back of his hand, as all the other children did? Why did he have to go to bed at a certain hour, when all the other children stayed up as long as they wished? She certainly had never said, "It's because you are an American, and we are different," but somehow David had seemed to acquire that sort of att.i.tude, and to feel that he was superior to the local children. She still remembered how helpless she had felt in trying to deal with the situation!

Well, it did seem that sending him away to school would be necessary if he were not to grow up proud and overbearing. Then too, she remembered the day she had to spank him because he had become angry and shouted at one of his little playmates in very filthy language.

Where had he learned those words? (He had picked up the language, good and bad alike, without even trying!) She wouldn't even have known what the words meant, but she had overheard the Bible woman scolding him, and had gone out to see what was wrong. The Bible woman hadn't wanted to tell her, but she would not be satisfied until she did. No, if her boy was going to learn filth like that by being inland with her, there was no help for it--he must go to school. "Dear Lord," she prayed, "You know what's best, and I suppose he's got to go; but, oh, Father, it's like tearing my heart out to send him!"

The time came. John and Mary went back to the field. David went off to school, bravely choking down the sobs, but with a pathetic, lost look in his eyes that stabbed his parents' hearts. They tried to forget it, and to rejoice in the thought of soon meeting again the dear group of Christians in their old station. But, no! A sudden call came, an urgent call to a hard place, in an entirely different part of the field. After much discussion and prayer, it was settled. There was no chance to go to their old station, even for a visit. Soon they were far away, among strangers, living in two rented rooms, and trying to straighten out a very difficult church situation, the like of which they had never before experienced.

Stories end, but life goes on and on. And the human mind always seems to magnify the present difficulties, and glamorize the possible future. John and Mary thought that they had it rather hard their first term, and that the second would be easier; but when the second term actually began, and they looked back on the first, they thought it had been nothing but child's play!

Looking at that first term objectively, we can see that John and Mary really did have a relatively easy time. For one thing, they lived in only two places all that time. For one reason or another missionaries often have to move time and again. Someone who is doing an absolutely indispensable job breaks down and must go home on furlough, and you are the only one who can take over. Or the work is being expanded, and the older workers are scattered farther afield as new ones come in.

Perhaps there is a war, and your station is in the fighting area, and you have to evacuate. Whatever the reason is, suddenly you find yourself in the midst of breaking up your home, packing and moving, and then settling in a new place, finding new people and problems with which to get acquainted, and perhaps a new dialect to learn.

Other things had been comparatively easy for John and Mary too, that first term. They did not have any fellow workers who were "difficult."

It was not their lot to start work in virgin territory, or where the people were unfriendly. They did not get into any difficult church situations. The church people were eager to co-operate with them, and quick to profit by their teaching and example. Even in the matter of health, they did not have a more than average amount of illness. And the story of their accomplishments during that first term could truly be used as a model for the young missionary's emulation!

This is not to say that John and Mary had no difficulties.

Difficulties are the normal thing on the mission field, and they had their share. But they met their difficulties, and they made good. How?

Chiefly by giving up some of their "rights," and foremost among the rights they gave up was their chance for a normal home life. There was rarely an evening when John was at home and without a visitor; and if such an evening came, he spent it at his books. Later he was away from home for days and weeks, so that the home had to function without the father much of the time. John had to give up his right to spend a normal amount of time with his wife and children. Even Mary could not spend as much time with the children as she would have liked, nor arrange things for them as she might have wished. And then, after the first few years, their home was not theirs alone. Most of the time they had other people living with them. All the way through they had to put the Lord's work first, and their home second.

Yet was not this att.i.tude of self-sacrifice the thing that made their home a real Christian home? If they had put their home first, not the work--if that home had become a self-centered thing, a thing enjoyed for its own sake--would it not have failed to be what they wanted it to be? A home that is absorbed in itself is not a truly Christian home. John was willing to be away so much, and to sacrifice so much, because his love for his Master was the all-consuming pa.s.sion of his life. It was for exactly that reason that his presence--and even the consciousness of his absence, and the reason for it--did bless that home. John and Mary gladly took others into their home, really wanting them, not because they did not appreciate having their own home to themselves, but because their concern for the work was greater than their natural desires. They counted the cost, and sent their child away from them, away to school, because they knew that it was best for the child and best for the work. Love for Christ was greater than love for home, or for children, and greater even than love for each other.

If they had held on to their right to home, and given it first place, that would have meant losing it--losing the Christ-centered home that they wanted. But in giving it up they found it--found a home that truly showed forth the love of Christ, because that love was the compelling force of their individual lives.

CHAPTER 9

_The Right to Live With the People of My Choice_

The six months of language school were almost over. Exams had been the order of the day. In spite of the fact that the results of their labors were not yet known, half a dozen young women gathered in the dormitory to celebrate with a cocoa party. Some were sprawled on the beds, one was seated on the floor, and another two were presiding over the concoction simmering on a tiny, smoky kerosene stove.

"You know, I couldn't sleep a wink last night!" declared one. "I was thinking about Mr. Gibb[6] coming to appoint us to stations, and wondering what my senior worker will be like, and I got so worried I stayed awake all night!"

"You know the Lord is working it all out! We've been praying about it for so long! You shouldn't worry about it!" reproved another gently.

"Well, I tried, but the more I tried, the wider awake I got."

"You _are_ foolis.h.!.+" put in another. "Mr. Gibb isn't even coming until tomorrow, and then who knows how soon _you_ will have your interview with him. It will take him several days they say, and your name begins with _T_."

"It's all right for you to talk!" retorted the first girl. "You have a sister out here, and you're taking it for granted that you'll be sent to her. Of course you're all right! But what about the rest of us who have to be separated, and sent off to live with entire strangers? How do I know whether my senior worker will _like_ me or not?"

"_You_ don't need to worry," put in the quiet voice of a girl who had not spoken before. "You are gay and lively, and everybody likes you.

I'm quiet and awkward, and never know what to say. I'm sure my senior worker will be disappointed when she gets me!"

"Just listen to me a minute!" another voice spoke up. "I'll tell you the one way out of this difficulty. Everybody wants a congenial fellow worker. Well, there's only one way to be sure, and that is--pick your own! That's what I'm going to do!"

"Don't be stupid!" clamored three or four voices at once. "Pick your own! Just as if we'd be allowed to pick our own senior workers! What are you talking about?"

"Just what I said. I'm picking my own senior worker! Of course I may not be able to do it right away--I may have to live with one that Mr.

Gibb picks for me for a year or two--but I'm getting the one I've picked for myself in the end!"

At that juncture two girls jumped upon the speaker, and rolled her from the bed to the floor. "Just because you are engaged you don't need to think you are better than we are!" and the serious discussion broke up with a laugh.

With whom am I going to live and work for the next six months? For the next six years? For the rest of my life? Who will be the one I will see the first thing in the morning, and the last thing at night, and all the time in between? With whom will I sit down at the table three times a day? Who will be my fellow worker, my companion in recreation, the one who spends time with me at the Throne of Grace, pleading for souls, and for the upbuilding of G.o.d's Church? Yes, it's quite a question. For somehow, mission boards usually seem to recognize only one legitimate reason for allowing a missionary to choose his or her own fellow worker, and that one reason is marriage. Even married couples will probably be asked to take one or more younger workers into their homes; and if you are one who remains single, why, you will just have to let the superintendent, or committee, pick your companion and fellow worker for you.

When I was in high school it was one of my ambitions to learn to be at home in any environment. Whether a wealthy home or a poverty-stricken one, whether an American culture or the culture of some other group, I wanted to be able to live in that environment as though I had grown up in it. This ambition was no doubt laudable and its attainment is very useful to the missionary. I found later, however, that it does not quite go to the heart of the problem. My ambition at present is not so much to be able to live happily in any _environment_ as to be able to live happily with any other _missionary_.

This statement may horrify some of my readers. If I had said I make it my ambition to be able to live happily with anyone, you would have had no bone to pick with me. But no, I _must_ say, _with any other missionary_! Am I trying to imply that some missionaries are hard to live with? That cla.s.s of G.o.d's devoted servants who have given up all to go for Him to the far corners of the earth? Let anyone else be hard to get along with, but surely not missionaries!

Well, missionaries (excepting some feeble folk like me) are the salt of the earth. At the same time, my experience on the foreign field leads me to the conclusion that it takes a good deal more grace to live happily with one's fellow workers on the foreign field than it does at home. Why? The reasons are varied. I think I can safely say that most missionaries are rather strong-minded. If they were not, perhaps they would never have gotten to the foreign field! They know what they want to do, and they know how they want to do it. Most missionaries will agree on the task to be accomplished; but what are the best means to accomplish it--that is not always so easy to agree upon! The older worker may think the younger worker's plans wild and impracticable. The younger worker may think the older worker stodgy and in a rut. Perhaps both may be right. Happy the fellow workers who can learn to discuss their pet ideas without heat! Happy the fellow workers who can develop just the right combination of initiative and co-operation!

It is hard to realize how closely one is shut up to a fellow worker on the mission field. Probably there are no others of your own race in the place where you live. At home one can live with one group, work with another, and have special friends that are entirely apart from either group. On the field there is no one else--no one who speaks your native tongue, understands your background, or has the same pattern of thought as yourself. Perhaps you are stationed with one other worker. Every human heart longs for some special friend; but this fellow worker may not be one you would have chosen for a special friend. Perhaps she has some mannerisms that are irritating to you.

Perhaps you like dogs and she hates them. Perhaps she believes in being extremely economical and you like to spend money more freely. In some ways, as two single missionaries live and work together, the relation is as close as that between husband and wife; but in this case the two _have not chosen one another_. Of course the relations.h.i.+p is not established for life; and the missionary who finds herself paired off with an uncongenial fellow worker may console herself by hoping that a change will come soon. That frame of mind, however, is not exactly conducive to the sort of adjustment that would make for the most effective carrying on of the work.

Even married couples will feel this to a certain extent. A young married couple will probably have to live with an older couple for the first two or three years on the field. Owing perhaps to the shortage of men, and perhaps to other reasons, it even happens that sometimes a young married couple is sent to live for their "breaking-in" period with one or two older single lady missionaries! The initial period pa.s.ses, and they are given a home and a work of their own. But they are not likely to be left alone long. Younger workers will be coming along, and most married couples are rarely without other workers living in their homes. Besides this, it is likely that the husband will need to be away from home for weeks and even months at a time, leaving the wife at home with the little ones and the junior workers.

The single worker feels the force of this even more strongly. Two good friends _may_ be placed in a station together; or what is more likely, two who have been placed together may become especially good friends.

The fact that they are good friends, however, cannot be a reason for placing them together, nor for leaving them together. Any of us would realize that. The placing of workers is determined by the best interests of the work. If, when the best interests of the work are considered, it seems right to place two special friends together, or to leave them together, well and good. If not, why, that's the end of it!

Not being able to choose my own fellow worker will present two possible difficulties for me. One is that I may be placed with someone who does not appeal to me. The other is that I may be separated from someone with whom I strongly desire to remain. The first difficulty is one that comes along now and then. Probably most missionaries, at one time or another, have had a period of living with someone with whom they did not seem to "hit it off." The second difficulty is, for the unmarried worker at least, of much more common occurrence. Over and over again it happens. Just when you and someone else have lived together long enough to rub off the rough corners, and come to a place where you really "fit," along comes an upheaval, and you are separated. We like to put down roots. We like to make friends and stay with them, but on the mission field frequent change of location and of fellow workers is the normal thing. New personnel is constantly being added, and older workers are constantly retiring. New stations are constantly being opened. And the single worker, time and time again, finds herself being separated from a fellow worker with whom she would prefer to remain permanently!

Some will notice that I have been using p.r.o.nouns in the feminine gender. This is not without reason, since by far the majority of single workers on the field are women. And, as has been said, one of the hardest things the single woman worker must face is that she can never say to anyone, "I'm going to stay with you."

"What a negative sort of outlook!" exclaims someone; and we must thank that one for reminding us that there is a _positive_ side. There is One whom we _may_ choose for our Companion. (How amazing that I should be allowed to _choose Him_!) And it is just because we have already chosen the one Companion who will not leave us that we may not choose anyone else--not even a husband or wife--without reference to Him. As soon as we choose Him, then He does all our choosing for us.