I was sitting at my desk having morning devotions when I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, something moving. I looked up, and through the Venetian blinds I noticed a man walking around our cassava garden. I pulled back the blinds to have a better look. Seeing the man stoop down and pull up some cassava from our garden, I yelled, “Hey!” He quickly scurried away with his plunder.

That rascal! I thought. I ran outside and followed the path through the woods in the direction he had gone, but he had already gotten away. My thoughts raced as I cautiously made my way through the woods. A few cassavas stolen were not going to break us, but something has to be done about these rascals. Then the thought occurred to me to pray for the guy. I did. Going into the village, I told some villagers about him and asked them to keep an eye out for him. Most of the Kotale villagers like having us here, and word soon spread that someone had stolen cassavas from the missionaries.

The following day around dusk, there was a light knocking at our door. I opened the door and in the darkness made out the form of a tall, thin young man standing on our steps. I greeted him politely and asked what he had come for. In a low voice he said, “I stole some of your cassavas yesterday. I’m sorry. We didn’t have any food in our house.” He told me his name is Sam.

“Thank you for confessing,” I replied. “Next time, come and ask us first.”

The next Sabbath at church, I was surprised to find a new visitor sitting next to me. It was Sam.

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