Open My Eyes (Heather Harriss)

Thursday morning we have breakfast together at the Dezda Pottery Lodge.  While we are waiting for our food, the United Methodist pastor from the Dezda circuit arrives to greet us.  After introductions, he joins us for breakfast.  He has a shy smile.

After breakfast we load into the SUV.   The countryside is beautiful.  Breathtaking lush green craggy mountains, rocky hills, sunshine peaking through clouds in an endless sky.  We stop for goats to cross, we wait for a herd of cattle to amble by.  Always there are people walking, carrying loads of sticks, bundles of everything.  We share the road with people lucky enough to have a bicycle, on which they can load more sticks and more bundles.

The tarmac ends (the paved road) and we bump along a narrow one way path.  Driving up a hill, a large truck is stopped in the middle of the road as men load it up with wood.  There is much discussion and negotiating as to whether there is room for us to pass or if the truck needs to move.  The truck needs to move.

We continue on into the mountains.  Nestled in the landscape there are small groupings of thatched roof homes.  A goat might be sleeping on a porch, chickens pecking for food, or just walking around, children smile and wave as we pass by.

We drive down into a valley, at the bottom is a log bridge crossing a narrow river.  We pile out of the SUV.  There is much discussion as to whether we can safely cross the bridge in the SUV.  There is more discussion as to exactly how much farther it is to the village that is our destination.  We need to walk the rest of the way to the village, we walk across the bridge, and head up the hill.  On either side of us are rows and rows of cornstalks, and in the furrows, sweet potatoes are sending up their green leaves.

Everywhere the eyes look there is something beautiful to see.  Walking in this landscape fills me with joy.

We arrive at the village and learn that there has been a misunderstanding about our arrival time. (communication had been difficult because the pastor had sold his cell phone to be able to attend annual conference).  Still, kind people come to greet us, we are shown their thatched church.  We are a great curiosity to the children.  In no time at all, there are so many children, that Kara begins a game of duck, duck goose.  Since my recent foray into duck duck goose had not been successful, I turn around, and I see two little girls staring at me.   I say “Hi” and lift my hand in greeting they yell and run away.

I step onto the path, they see me, yell again, run, and look back to see what I am going to do next.  I look at them, take one step, they squeal, run, then look back.  I take a step away, as though to go, they move closer, I take a step towards them. Squeals of delight.  A group of children across the path, decide they are also terrified of me.  There are seemingly endless variations to this game and though, we were no where near to exhausting them, we are told, it is time to gather for worship.

Under a thatched roof, benches had been brought for the visitors to sit upon, everyone else sat on the ground.  We began our time together singing.  The shy smile of the pastor transforms into a huge grin as he leads us in singing of God’s love and of God’s promises.  We are introduced to the chief of this village and to the lay leaders of this congregation.  We hear of answered prayers.  From under our thatched roof we can see bricks stacked upon bricks, lots of sand, and piles of stone.  These bricks have been made and these stones gathered to build their church building.  The funding to help build this church has come from Belmont United Methodist Church.

It is wonderful to hear and to see how our church in Nashville, TN USA is connected to this United Methodist Church in the Dezda Circuit in Malawi Africa.  It is amazing to see how prayers are turned to bricks and stone and how bricks and stone are turned to churches and how churches hold our hopes and our dreams and our prayers.  Our time of worshiping together ends and we head off together to the SUV.   Voices are lifted in song and in prayer.  Laughter and joy carry us down the hill and over the bridge.

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