“And I have led you forty years in the wilderness. Your clothes have not worn out on you, and your sandals have not worn out on your feet” (Deuteronomy 29:5)
Half a dozen teenagers from the Ama village escorted me and Orion, my husband, as we followed village leaders through the jungle to inspect an old and overgrown grassy airstrip whose use had been abandoned. The village leaders shouted to one another as they explored the path ahead of us. Meanwhile, the youth directed me on which trail to take and bid Orion to follow me. As the conversation was almost entirely in the Ama language, I did not understand what made this route better, especially considering water covered the trail and we needed to wade through a shallow stream.
We soon reached a particularly muddy area. The youth showed me where to put my bare feet to easily find the submerged root I needed to walk on for support. I grabbed their outstretched hands for balance and made it through, wet pant legs and all. A minute later, Orion caught up. “Walk there,” they told him. Moments later, SPLASH! His footing gave way. Orion was now waist-deep in the soft, swampy stream.
Everyone worked to pull Orion out. Once he was standing on solid ground, our guides saw that Orion was now wearing only one sandal; the other was stuck deep in the mud. Several youth waded into the swampy area, feeling around with arms and feet for several minutes until one said, “It’s here!” before pulling the sandal out, rinsing it off, and passing it along to my husband.
Why all the fuss over the sandal? Even when one lives with the convenience of a local store nearby, one might still want to spend a few minutes trying to retrieve a sandal hidden in the mud. But when you live in the middle of a jungle like we do, where trips to the store become planned occasions few and far between and supplies are quite costly, being good stewards of what you own becomes even more crucial; you admire how God kept the sandals of the Israelites from deteriorating during their 40-year exodus out of Egypt.
Finally back on solid ground, we continued on our adventure to the airstrip—a story for perhaps another time—with our guides explaining the land, trees and many aspects of forest life we encountered along the way. Later, as we said our goodbyes, my heart ached for the day I return to the Ama village to help Sean and Joella Brizendine begin their ministry—the young people of the Ama village who guided us were so joyful, the women were hopeful of a better life, and the community leaders were ready to give their support.
Please pray for Orion and me as we continue our furlough in the States, visiting with supporters, and consider helping us reach the fund goals necessary to return to the Sepik Project. Please also pray for Sean and Joella Brizendine as they begin their work with the Ama people.
