A filling breakfast – laughter

• some nervous laughs; anticipation, maybe fear of flying
• travel to somewhere --- plane
• packed in and somewhat uncomfortable
• take off -- in the air over Luanda there is no green – everything is red/brown – looking like “dry bones” with the promise of life gone
• southward – laughter: still fueled by nervousness at small plane flying (Cesna 208)
• land becoming greener away from city

“Are those people waiting for us?” The people at the airport embraced us in ways that most of us have never embraced before … singing, a line of greeters, huge smiles … a reminder that Angola is still not a place of safety and security, don’t take pictures at airport, etc. Traveling to Mission Station (about 15 miles) over poor roads (tracks) we bounced and bumped along the way, we saw how the people lived … without stopping and interacting as the time was very limited. Adobe brick houses, very simple and plain, a lot of dirt, no grassy lawns here; goats, pigs, an occasional dog, but I never saw a cat – btw I don’t care for cats so that was okay.

We met a few motor vehicles, mostly bicycles being used to carry loads, not ridden, but pushed, and women carrying heavy-looking loads on their heads.

Maybe two kilometers from the Mission Station there was a large group of children standing in the road blocking passage, singing and waving green branches. They had walked out from the Mission Station to be the first to greet us. After we passed them they ran behind us to get to the village (Mission Station).

Our time at the Mission Station was way short – drove through and saw three rebuilt buildings, but many others still damaged. Mission Station occupied during war and attacked and damaged.

Many people waving green branches and singing greeted us. A circle was set out for greetings, chairs for us as honored guests.

We exchanged greetings. Jane said at the end of her remarks, “We will pray for you and ask that you pray for us.”

The trip back to the airport was filled with some concern about time. The pilot said 3:00 was the last moment he would wait for us, arrived at 2:35; there had been a meal prepared for us in town. They brought the food out to us and we shared and were blessed in overwhelming ways by the generosity of our hosts.

Angola has suffered, but the spirit is present and alive. As we left the Mission Station, they sang, “God be with you”; at the airport we smiled, shook hands and embraced. I have never, never, never been welcomed in such a warm and open manner.

What is the meaning of this day for us? The acceptance and welcome is not like these people would receive in the churches I serve. What is wrong? Is it that we are viewed as “special” because of where we come from – I doubt it has much to do with origin as it does with who we are and the sharing of relationship in Jesus Christ.

In a fractured/broken world, where is peace? Peace is where brothers and sisters see beyond all the barriers to unify in the spirit. Can there by unity when there is such disparity of wealth? When a 250ml can of soda costing 1.5 USD is offered by one, one who might make 10 USD a day. That is giving. What can we give in return – our friendship, our concern, our letters to Congress; it all seems hollow and not enough.

Maybe I was cynical, but the walk I took down the runway where I saw 40-50 AK47 brass mashed into blacktop, reminds me that I stood on a battlefield from five years before. If peace continues to break out, can the people recover? The land recover? The wildlife recover? Their faith never died.