The charter bus twisted and turned down the old mountain roads, occasionally stirring me from my sleep, and sometimes making me believe we would surely fall to our deaths. It was a one lane road with cars tearing up and down the mountain path in either direction. Our Seek driver seemed perfectly okay with driving on the very edge, which gave me an uneasy feeling in my stomach, I thought I would surely die several times but, finally, we made it to the bus stop where our contacts eagerly waited for us. After unloading and reloading our luggage from the bus and into cars, unpacking the luggage from the cars and then hauling it all at least a quarter of a mile over mountain terrain we arrived at the most darling little house on the side of the most darling not-so-little mountain. It was perfect, everything about it was captivating. We were taken to our rooms (all the girls in one giant room and all the guys in another) and then allowed a little bit of time to unpack and get settled in. After all of us girls were ready, we set out and did a little exploring in a nearby town. We found the most darling little restaurant and sat there and just poured our little hearts out to each other, it was so wonderful.
In the days following we did lots of coffee shop ministry and also encouraged a team that was staying long-term at this particular location. Jesus did such beautiful things there. One day we heard that a man died in a nearby village. Some of our team ventured down to get revenge on death and claim his life back. Raised from the dead? No, he was not... But I do believe something changed in the atmosphere when they stepped out in faith.
Later, another group of us went down, this time I went with them. I confess, I was angry... It was righteous anger... It welled up inside me. I was determined to see this man raised!! "How dare the grave take this man's life!!!" I thought. But when we got there, all the men had left. They had taken the man's body to the burial site while the women stayed behind and mourned. We went to find the group of mourners, grave diggers, friends and brothers but they were no where to be found. Feeling like we should go back to the house where the man had originally been, we retreated from our wanderings and returned. There, sitting on the far end of her porch, was the man's widow. I walked over, got down on my knees and looked into her eyes. They were eyes like none I have seen before... Filled with tears and a sadness so deep I felt like I was peering straight into her heart. I stretched out my hand towards hers, offering my comfort... She took it. Moving up closer I put my arm around the woman and just sat, letting her cry. One of my friends began to speak in tongues to her, she looked at him and began to speak back! So I began to speak in tongues.... She nodded, with understanding and answered... I was in awe! Whatever words we were saying, though we couldn't understand, seemed to comfort her and her aching heart... I couldn't stop looking at her... And though I couldn't understand what she was saying, I continued to holding her wrinkled, worn out hand in mine. I continued to watched the tears fall, the sighs of sadness come and go... Compassion welled inside me.. Though we weren't able to pray for her husband a second time, I was so thankful we got to pray for her, comfort her, and just sit and hold her.
Some time passed and when we felt it was right we said our goodbyes with one last hug to her. A man raised from the dead? No... Not that day. But I cannot even begin to describe the impact sitting on that porch with an old woman, I had never met before, had on my life... I hope God touched her heart, I know He touched mine.
God moved in miraculous ways during our time in the mountains. It was a place of restoration and renewal in our souls. The cool mornings, the warm days, the wildflowers growing everywhere, the gentle pitter-patter of occasional rain… All of it was so refreshing and rewarding and I was content, though my heart ached to know it would all be over soon.
