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titude,” Daddy joked. “ But I must admit it makes wonderful packing.” “We’ll have enough of these facial tissues to last until furlough,” Mommy sighed gratefully. This was one of the many things the price of which in a foreign country was too high for a mis sionary family; everybody had to blow his nose on one of the tissues to see “how it feels.” This box certainly was unlike the usual idea of “missionary barrels” for there never was another one so complete with everything that anyone possibly could want. There were books for all the youngsters, aprons, towels, stockings, a bright un-Bolivian-like sports shirt for Daddy, which he donned immediately; pillow slips, dish towels, a set of those new unbreakable plastic dishes, candy that was really fresh, and even a bear on wheels who banged on a drum when the baby pulled him. Robert tried his helmet for size and Dick, in his excitement over his “ Make Your Own Kit” , sat down on a nail stick ing out of the lid of the box. As the bottom of the big box neared with no skates in sight, Mommy put her arm around Faith and whispered, “ Don’t be too disappointed, honey. The Lord knows gwhat is best, you know.”
A T last, the box had arrived! For the five little missionary children in their adobe home high in the Andes mountains, it was no longer July, but suddenly Christmas! The arrival of a package from the far-away land where Grandpas and Grandmas lived was the most exciting thing that ever happened on the mission field. The three months the children had waited for this package were the longest three months they had ever spent. They couldn’t believe their eyes when it finally appeared, carried atop an exasperatingly slow-moving mule up the long winding road from the river. Why couldn’t that animal move faster, just this once? “ Hurry, hurry!” cried Dick, as Daddy carried the large box into the living room. “ Here are your hammer and pliers —do you want me to start opening it?” He began pulling at a nail, and Daddy rescued his tools hurriedly. The top was pried off and inside were the packages — such interesting-looking tissue-covered surprises! “ Oh!” squealed the baby, who wasn’t big enough to understand about such things but was excited because everyone else was. “ I just can’t wait to see what’s in side,” Yvie, the littlest girl, said. “Maybe a doll for me.” She played house all day with her Raggedy Ann that had but one arm and half a leg. It really was time for her to have a new doll but the trouble was, she loved all her dollies to pieces! Robert, the middle-sized child, was always taking trips to the States on his old bamboo stick. His secret yearn ing had been for one of those leather helmets with plastic goggles that you * Missionary from Bolivia. J U L Y , 1 9 5 2
could wear up or down, depending on the weather on the long journey from Bolivia to Los Angeles. Ever since Dick, the little handy man around the house, had come across the picture of a “Make Your Own Kit” in the mail order catalogue, he had hoped that the people who were getting the box ready to send had seen the adver tisement, too. Then there was Faith, the twelve-year- old. You might have thought her ambi tion would have been a fountain pen, a new purse or something strictly femi nine ; certainly not a pair of skates—’way out in the heart of the Andes with hardly a flat spot anywhere. “ Oh, mother, if only there is a pair of skates for me in the box! You see, all the children are going to bring theirs this term, since the schoolroom has a new floor!” The school for missionaries’ chil dren, in the city, was becoming quite up- to-date, with a cement floor, instead of the usual mud-brick one. Her mother, who had had some experi ences with missionary boxes, and knew they very seldom contained the expected, said, “Well, don’t set your heart on them, dear; besides, you don’t even know how to skate!” Faith didn’t tell anyone, but she had been praying every night for the past three months that there might be a pair in this very box. It was miraculous! Amid “ oh’s” and “ ah’s” Daddy brought forth the gifts. The only thing lacking was the Christ mas tree as the floor quickly became covered with a many-colored sea of wrappings. In between the presents were layers upon layers of Kleenex, and soon the table was covered with the soft sheets. “ They must have thought we have a lot of colds down here in this high al
By Martha S. Hooker
Page Seventeen
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