Shortly after our return from the States, we started taking the pulse of some of our projects left on pause. One of them, the English classes for refugees, did continue in our absence, but due to the shortage of human and teaching resources, the attendance dropped significantly.

At our first meeting since returning, we had four adults and four children in the audience. Two of the children were ours. Although we were somewhat expecting low attendance, we didn’t imagine that low. We went home, prepared for the next week, and prayed, trying to assess how the future of this project would look.

Fast forward a week. We woke up, got everyone fed and dressed, prayed again, hopped in the car and drove to class, carrying materials for about eight students. We thought we were generous. After all, it was double last week’s attendance. We hoped God would at least bring us eight people.

Right before clicking the gate open, I stopped for a second with my hand on the knob. I could hear a buzz, the kind that you can hear in a packed restaurant or at a wedding, or like a beehive. It was January, so definitely not bees. Nothing could have prepared us for the sight when we finally opened that gate. In our shocked state, we counted about 30 people greeting us in three languages.

For the next few hours, we buzzed around as well, trying to make more copies of everything, seat everyone and figure out their language level. When we got back into the car that day, I finally took a breath and told Chris, “Remember that story about a little girl who prayed for rain and then started carrying an umbrella? Well, we prayed for rain, but we didn’t bring an umbrella.”

We had underestimated God again. Next week, we brought all the umbrellas. Currently, we are teaching six adult groups and two children’s groups. I would say it is pouring already. Don’t we serve a surprising God?

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