VESSELS OF HONOR / by Ruth Samarin
F U N - T O - P L A Y
Tears and Joy
BIBLE
I s t h e season so dry that you have to water the ground with your tears?” asked Sara’s aunt. Rubbing her eyes with the hem of her dress, Sara tried to smile reassuringly at her mother’s sister. The smile was more a grimace, and fresh tears spilled down the brown cheeks. “Now if you don’t make a pair!” continued the aunt. “You sit here wetting the wall of my house with water from your eyes and your silly friend, Moco, sits in her doorway crying like a baby without its milk.” Sara sprang up with a cry of surprise. Watching her niece dash out of the door and run across the village street, the old lady shook her head and mumbled. Sara found Moco where her aunt had indicated. The two girls flung themselves into each others’ arms for the second time that day. Through tears and smiles, Moco explained that she could not run away. To do this would mean turning her back on God, and she did want God to help her now. Sara looked past her friend at the darkening sky and realized that Moco’s husband would soon be home for his evening meal. She quickly planned with her friend for another visit. “ But first,” Sara said, “ I’ll send Nambona to talk to you. She has walked in God’s way many years; she will know best how God can help you.” With much blowing in each others’ ears, the two friends parted. Early the next morning Sara took the truck road back to her village. Sighting her own small village, she broke into a light-hearted run. She saw her family gathered around their morning meal of manioc and dried okra. She gave a playful tug at her small brother’s ear and then squatted down beside her mother. Only then did she notice the formal atmosphere in her family circle. She regarded her mother’s face to see if some sorrow or death had come into the village. The merry twinkle in her mother’s eye belied anything of that nature. Relieved she looked beyond her mother to a new bicycle leaning against her house. It was not like any she had seen lately in the village. Guessing that an important visitor had come while she was gone, she turned to greet him properly as a good daughter should. A hot flush of blood rushed to Sara’s face as she recognized the visitor that accepted her extended hand. It was David, her future hus band. Sara’s little brother laughed with glee as she saw his sister’s obvi
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ous embarrassment. But the firm hand of the boy’s mother pulled him out of the family circle and into a place of disgrace. Sara had arrived in the middle of a family council. David had come the evening before. He brought with him the 7,000 franc bride price that had been agreed on. He had come also with a request: a large bush church had asked him to come and form a Christian school for the children of the village. They had built him a house and they were now making the mud brick for the one-room school building. When the rains began again, he would start the first semes ter in his first real teaching assign ment. The church felt it wise for him to marry and bring his bride to her new home before the school term started. Sara’s father and uncle thought the request a fair one. They had agreed to go in four weeks to Bossangoa to get the marriage papers. David spoke for the first time since Sara’s arrival. He looked out beyond the village at some vague spot and asked his future wife if she would like to be married by Pastor Kobo in the city church. Sara, with proper shyness also avoided looking at David and answered with a quiet “ yes” . This last problem being settled the family rose to go about their morn ing’s activities. Sara and David took the greatest care never to speak or seem to be interested in each other. David was also pleased with what he saw. Sara, he knew from their first chance meeting, was a pretty girl. But this had worried him more than it pleased him. Pretty girls were often spoiled and lazy. Nothing, he knew, spoiled a marriage sooner than a pretty pout. But Sara seemed neither spoiled nor lazy. She worked quickly and efficiently as if it were her cus tom. He was grateful too that she did not giggle or try to catch his eye. That night a large moon shed its lantern light down over the tiny African village. Thousands of miles away lay lands of riches and culture that were unknown to this African girl curled up on her grass mat bed. Sara’s feet had never worn shoes, nor had they trod on anything but dirt floors. Yet in the heart of this girl sang the sweet notes of peace and joy that kings and scholars have often sought in vain. For God willingly gives the most precious things in life to any girl who commits her life to Him.
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