HEARTS
HUNGRY
by Mae Tanksley*
Father of Mauro, Mixe heloer.
a place where everything is so dif ferent, she had perfect peace with the Lord. If her Lord—my Lord—can give her victory over such obstacles, why can’t I have the same peace when. . . I’m fixing dinner for unexpected guests and I have to stop and receive a vendor at the door . . . someone wants to deliver a package . . . I don’t have change and neither does he . . . the carrots bum . . . Sam pulls the dog’s tail and he howls . . . Mellie just has to have her spelling words dictated to her (She is a month be hind in her lessons) . . a drug sales man is waiting for a rush order for one of the clinics . . . I run out of butane gas and Linder isn’t here to change the tank. Then is when I lose my peace. Before you condemn me, be truth ful — wouldn’t you, too? As I sat watching Manuela come out of the ether retching and miser able, I rang for the nurse to give her a shot for the pain she was obviously having, then using one of the two Tzeltal words I was sure of, I asked her, “ Lek’ay?” ( “Are you all right?” ). She couldn’t speak but nodded vigor ously in the affirmative. Frances came back and I hurried home, blessed and refreshed by my illiterate little sister in Christ. *Note: Linder and Mae Tanksley both attended Biola, although neither was grad uated. Mae attended for one semester in 1941 and Linder for two years 1949-1951. JU LY, 1963
Tender, loving care helps patients to recover more quickly.
Frances Jackson holds child in Tzeltal clinic.
The author with "Mellie," her 12 year old native helper.
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