There is a kind of person that every missionary dreams of having close to them. A person who can give cultural advice, recommend local places and people, make a phone call to someone out of your reach, translate things when needed, or be your friend. We have found all that in Mrs. Inga, our language teacher.

She has offered us endless grace and patience while we struggled with different sounds, verbs and language logic. She kindly guided us, mostly without laughing out loud at our language mishaps (e.g., complimenting someone’s tail instead of their hat) and patiently explained what we seemed to not understand. She even agreed to record all the vocabulary for us, so we could have the words handy, correctly pronounced, and on our phone whenever we had a few minutes to listen. She was delighted to discover her voice would travel the world with us while on furlough.

For a while, our relationship was strictly professional. Mrs. Inga was never invasive with her questions, which is rare in that part of the world. But as the topic list for our lessons slowly expanded, our conversations deepened. Little by little, we advanced from basic information like family and hobbies to profession, job, religion, likes and dislikes. That is how, with time, she got to know us better than most of our local friends. She was the first person curious enough to ask what faith we belonged to, and we were happy to share some of our beliefs with her. Since language learning is a two-way road, we got to know her pretty well, too. We realized that while Mrs. Inga was a very traditional person, she was also the kind that liked to apply her own filters when needed. She agreed with us on many topics that other Georgians like to dispute.

We exchanged homemade goods, recipes, and presents, invited her grandkids over for play dates and enjoyed seeing her become a constant in our lives. She even took us to a piano concert. The most heartwarming moment of our relationship came last winter when we all got sick with COVID-19. Among other things, she announced: “I’m praying for you.” At that point, we had already experienced an outpouring of love and care from our friends and neighbors. But her care was what stuck with us. It was the first time anyone who did not share our beliefs had prayed for our family. We cherished that more than she knew. That meant she cared about us and wanted us to know it.

We care a lot about her, too. Would you remember our dear Mrs. Inga in your prayers so that God will help us become the blessing she needs?

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