by Roger Bruner
Despite my anger—or perhaps because of it—God began nudging me. Lord, no! You don’t expect me to be this flexible, do You?
I knew the answer before I asked, though.
Although I was still hugging Anjelita, I freed my good arm and beckoned Crista to join us. She didn’t respond. Her face was dripping with sweat—and probably not just from the heat.
Anjelita must have thought I was crazy to act friendly toward Crista, but we looked into one another’s eyes as we’d done so often that day, and I want to believe she saw God’s love there, even though she didn’t understand it.
I said in a near whisper, “It’s all right now, Anjelita.”
And it was. Anjelita smiled at me and then turned to Crista and motioned for her to come join us. She didn’t hesitate this time.
During a prolonged three-way hug, I let Crista—I encouraged her to—examine my cast. She’d apparently never seen one before.
Then came the moment of truth. Anjelita extended her stub to Crista and, after what sounded like a bit of gentle coaxing, Crista touched it so lightly with one finger that she probably didn’t ruffle a single feathery hair on Anjelita’s arm. She ran her hand over the smooth skin on the stub and then examined Anjelita’s upper arm.
She held her own arm up for a closer look, apparently comparing it with Anjelita’s, and her eyes opened wide with fascination. I could almost read her mind. “Duh! Is this all we’ve been afraid of?”
After hugging Anjelita with both arms, Crista kissed her cheek and started to leave. But then she came back and kissed me, too. When she scampered off, her step was light.
Moments later, all of the children returned. Whether they would accept Anjelita now, I couldn’t say, but at least the fear had disappeared.
With the confidence of an experienced teacher, Anjelita carefully taught me each child’s name. After pronouncing a name slowly and distinctly, she made me repeat it until I got it right.
Of course, with my Georgia drawl, a mind soaked to capacity in the rules of high school French, and a little stumbling over my own words, I couldn’t say how right “right” was. Maybe that’s why my efforts to master the kids’ names tickled them so much.
Even Anjelita laughed with them.
Although she seemed willing to share me with these would-be friends, she was determined to control our interaction. When Estéban and Felicita tried to get my attention and tell me something without going through Anjelita, she shook her head, her long dark hair blowing this way and that in the breeze, and said no along with other words she spoke too quickly for me to jot down.
I understood mi amiga, though—my friend. Anjelita wanted to be the children’s only means of access to me. If I’d been God, she would have insisted on being the high priest. That didn’t surprise me as much as it disturbed me.
These children may have given up believing Anjelita was cursed, but they didn’t argue when she said no. They jumped back as if being near her was like sitting on a treetop during a thunderstorm.
But she always smiled again. Soon. The danger was past. The children resumed whatever they’d been doing, their apprehensions forgotten. I hoped these incidents would soon lessen in frequency and severity.
Close to suppertime, Anjelita ran to greet a village woman I hadn’t noticed before. They smiled, kissed, hugged, and giggled. The “and what have you been doing with my daughter?” look she gave me wasn’t exactly a stare, but it didn’t contain a single detectable hint of warmth.
I recognized my name in the conversation between Anjelita and her mother. I didn’t see anyone around who might be her father, though; I wondered if he’d died in the tornado. She dragged her mom over to where I was waiting, pointed to her, and announced, “Señora Rosa.”
Wanting to show Rosa how pleased I was to meet her, even if she didn’t feel the same way, I walked forward to hug her. But she backed up as if trying to avoid physical contact. I stopped as if I’d encountered a police roadblock.
Her reaction didn’t bother me at first. I knew other people who didn’t hug strangers. Nonetheless, I came from a family, a church, a whole town full of huggers; and no one remained a stranger long. The women hugged one another. The children not only hugged but pecked one another on the cheeks, grown woman style. Even the men were as apt to hug one another with a masculine clasp as they were to shake hands. They often did both.
The more I thought about it, the more Rosa’s reaction drained the joy from my heart like water dripping from a soggy paper cup. In my head, I knew better than to take it personally, even though my heart didn’t always listen to my head.
But more than rejecting a harmless hug, Rosa seemed indifferent about—perhaps resistant to was more accurate—meeting me and learning my name. Had I unwittingly gotten into the middle of a family squabble?
Maybe Anjelita had disobeyed her mother by being gone all afternoon and Rosa was blaming me. Yet the way mother and daughter had greeted one another was not the way parents and children act when they’re upset.
Despite her dark cloud-covered reaction, Rosa was a beautiful woman in her late twenties or early thirties, and Anjelita looked very much like her—the same perfect skin, dark eyes, and long, shiny hair.
Anjelita rarely stopped smiling, but Rosa hadn’t smiled once. Strange.
As friendly as the other villagers had been, my presence apparently pleased them. They acted like I was one of them, and I felt at home. Rosa couldn’t have been more the complete opposite.
I wanted to reach out to her—to get closer. Her life story would be fascinating, especially regarding Anjelita’s handicap. But even if by some miracle—and that’s what it would take—she grew to accept me, how would I be able to hear it?
My linguistic limitations had become a double curse. I couldn’t witness to the villagers, and that was a huge issue. But I couldn’t communicate with Anjelita’s mom and establish a favorable relationship with her, either.
Despite my best efforts to be warm and pleasant, Rosa was the only unfriendly villager I’d encountered. At least she wasn’t openly hostile. And she didn’t turn her back on me.
But neither did she show the first small sign of interest.
Maybe she’s just cautious around strangers, I tried convincing myself. Cautious and perhaps scared. I can understand that. I can relate to that. As far off the beaten track as Santa María is, she’s probably never seen very many unfamiliar people. Perhaps none before this North American invasion.
But my ragged feelings rejected the idea. In that case, why hasn’t everyone in Santa María reacted the same way?
I wondered if Rosa knew Jesus as her personal Savior. While I’d known some truly grumpy Christians—many of them became youth workers—I believed Christians who tried to live in the center of God’s will were apt to have a discernable spirit of love, hope, and patience that even the severest hardships—and the most incorrigible of teens—can’t destroy.
But I couldn’t detect that kind of spirit in Rosa.
Or in Geoff, for that matter.
chapter thirty-five
Charlie approached me after supper when no one else was around. Even though he looked more serious than usual, I was no longer apprehensive about anything he or Rob might say. That was a major improvement over orientation.
“Kimmy …” He hesitated, apparently unsure what to say. I stayed quiet and let him think. Only Rob had addressed me by that nickname until now. I hoped the whole team wouldn’t start using it.
Lord, I told poor Millie Q. that nobody would ever call me Kimmy. Please give her the grace to forget she ever met me. Boy, would Dad have had a fit if he’d heard Great-Aunt Kimberly’s name desecrated that way.
“Kimmy,” Charlie said, “we need your advice. There’s a small problem.”
Oh, fiddle-dee-dee! What’s up, Charlie? When I instinctively drew back, I probably looked like one of the children retreating from Anjelita when she said no. That story had made the rounds at supper.
“Don�
��t worry. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve been terrific, and everybody has praised your positive spirit and willingness to do the most menial of tasks without fussing ….”
Although I should have just said thanks and waited for him to continue, I didn’t. Fatigue from my first day’s efforts had increased my impatience. I wanted to make him talk faster. But God had some things to say during Charlie’s pause.
Be patient, Kim, or I’ll start calling you Kimmy. That really got me. Just listen to the man and wait for him to finish. I didn’t give you one mouth and two ears for nothing, you know.
But I couldn’t wait.
Kimmy! God said before I deliberately disobeyed Him. “I’m happy to do whatever I can,” I said. “So what’s the ‘small problem,’ and how can I help?”
“It’s that little girl, the one with the missing forearm.”
“Anjelita? My little friend?”
“Yes, her. Anjelita.”
Charlie pronounced her name accurately. Maybe he’d studied a little Spanish when he was in school.
“What about her? There’s nothing wrong with her, is there?”
He shook his head and smiled with unquestionable reassurance.
“She hasn’t done anything wrong, has she?”
“Not wrong wrong,” He sounded like he didn’t want to tell the whole truth. “But … she’s too young to work in the construction area. She’s a child, and even the finest children are sometimes, uh, heedless. You couldn’t see this, but she caused several nasty near misses this afternoon.”
I gasped audibly.
“The team members hesitated to say anything. They know how fond you are of—what’d you say her name is again? —Anjelita and how much fun you have working together. Everybody got a charge out of watching the two of you, but team members had to react quickly several times to protect Anjelita from danger.”
“Oh, man! I had no idea ….”
“I know. That’s why several of the team leads talked to Rob and me. Please understand: They weren’t complaining behind your back. They wanted to find a solution without involving you. Their only concern is everyone’s safety. Especially Anjelita’s.”
“I couldn’t stand it if something bad happened to that little girl.” I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. “I’ll be responsible for her safety.”
Later that evening I’d remember using the word responsible and wonder what my parents would think.
“We knew you’d feel that way. How about stopping her from helping you?”
“Oh, Charlie …” I didn’t know what to say, but this wasn’t the time to quote Barbra Streisand’s “You can’t stop a tidal wave.”
“The question isn’t really ‘Can you stop her?’ It’s ‘How will you do it?’”
Oh, man! A real tidal wave.
“I don’t know much about children, Charlie. I hope she’ll prefer playing tomorrow. Maybe her mom won’t let her work. That’s not good enough, huh?”
“Afraid not.”
I knew that as soon as I asked.
Neither of us spoke for a while. The sunset across the fields captivated us. I doubt that I was the only one praying silently with open eyes, mind, and heart. We’d soon need to retire for the night, but we had to solve this problem first. Or have a substantial reason to believe the problem would disappear on its own.
Our silent amens didn’t lead to a solution.
“Charlie, I need to sleep on this one. But tell me: What if Anjelita and I worked on something useful outside the construction area, something that has nothing to do with construction?”
“No problem. Construction’s going great. Rob is a whiz of an organizer, and most of the team is learning quickly. Some people have more potential than others, but almost everyone is motivated.”
I wondered if he was thinking of Geoff when he said “almost everyone.”
“At this rate,” he said, “the villagers would just have a few minor tasks to finish on their own if things bogged down unexpectedly. And that’s a worst-case scenario. We plan to finish their houses before we leave. Everything’s under control. In case you got lost in my verbiage, everyone will bless anything you do to keep Anjelita safe.”
“Thanks, Charlie. I have an idea, but I need to pray about it. But it’s okay to keep Anjelita working as long as it’s outside the construction area?”
“Absolutely, Kimmy.” He gave me a brotherly Christian hug that made me wonder even more about Geoff. “You have your flashlight with you?” I nodded. “Have a great prayer time and a good night’s sleep.”
Rather than chance being drawn into conversation in the girls’ field, I sat down where I was and began praying. But I must have fallen asleep, because all I remembered when I came to was a strange encounter I’d had with an angel. I didn’t think it was a dream, but …
“Good evening, Kim. I bring you peace.”
“Hello, Angel.” I hoped that was an acceptable way to address a heavenly being. It’s not like she had wings, a harp, or glowing clothes, though. If anything, she looked like one of the villagers. But she was speaking—or should I say thinking—English to me, and that was supernatural enough.
“God knows your idea for protecting Anjelita,” she said.
“Good. Will it work? Is that what He wants me to do?”
“It will keep Anjelita safe.”
“Good. But is this what God wants me to do?”
“Kim, do you want me to be honest?”
“As a messenger from God, you can’t lie, can you?”
“Touché. I’ll tell you the truth. God agrees that your project is important. It will benefit the villagers, but not as much as the task He has in mind for you.”
“Oh, I’ll gladly set this one aside and do what He wants.” My plan was going to take a lot of work. “You know I’m trying to be faithful, flexible, and obedient.”
“Kim, you’ve got a good heart, and you’ve made a good start, and I like making rhymes when I have the time, but God knows you better than you know yourself.”
Was it okay to laugh at an angel? I’d never met one before, and this one was a hoot.
“When you receive your other assignment, you’ll think it’s impossible. But that’s okay. God knows you’re not ready for it yet.”
I was drenched in sweat now, even though the temperature had already dropped into the sixties. Not ready for my other assignment yet?
“Kim, this has nothing to do with willingness. It has everything to do with relying on God rather than on yourself. You may not realize it, but you’re planning to do the first project on your own, and God’s going to let you. But you’ll have to depend on Him for the big one.”
“His project is bigger than mine? I’m not even sure we can finish mine in the time we have.”
“You can, Kim, and you will. I won’t tell you more about the other one until you’re ready. But I promise you’ll laugh at the idea.”
“Me laugh? I’ll never do that.”
“That’s what Simon Peter said about betraying Jesus.”
chapter thrity-six
Day 4
I was glad Aleesha was more awake than I was.
“Are you sure this is the best thing to do with my hair?” I asked. I’d gotten up promptly at dawn, determined to keep my hair from getting grubbier than it already was. I would never get used to stirring up dirt whenever I moved or to sweating constantly.
At home I washed my hair twice a week—occasionally three times—and kept it looking perfect. Referring to the large binder of hair care tricks I’d collected over the years, I never had a bad hair day I couldn’t do something about. If one-armedness could be mistaken as God’s curse, hair like mine must signify His great favor.
But in Santa María I would go without washing it for two full weeks, and brushing one-handed was nearly impossible. Braiding would help tremendously, but that was a definite two-handed task.
“Yes, ma’am, Miss Kim,” Aleesha responded playfully. “I just can’t do french
braids like you asked me about. You may have noticed I’m not French?”
“You’re not from Haiti, Côte d’Ivoire, or Rwanda?”
We both giggled.
“I suppose one of the other girls could help you do a french braid if you want to ask. I won’t hold it against you longer than the next fifty years—or until death, whichever comes first.”
I ignored her offer to back out. Whatever she did to make my hair easier to deal with would be fine.
“Maybe you should’ve broken a leg instead of an arm. Then you could braid it yourself.”
Even at dawn when my mind and body resisted wakefulness, Aleesha could make me laugh. “I wouldn’t move around or get so hot and sweaty with a broken leg. My hair would still get filthy enough, though. You’re sure you can finish before breakfast? I thought something like this took hours, even for more darkly complected, less French-looking girls with shorter hair than mine.”
“I never said we’d be the first ones at breakfast today, girl. But this will be the perfect solution. I can work fast when I have to. Besides, I have special shortcuts. They don’t always work on our hair, but they’ll be fine for yours. I just wish your hair was clean right now.”
“You and me both.” My sigh probably woke up our nearest neighbors.
“And eighteen inches shorter.”
“No way.”
“Don’t get me talking so much or we’ll never get done.”
I snorted involuntarily. Aleesha couldn’t not talk much.
“Cornrows. Who would ever have thought it?”
“Modified cornrows, mind you. These won’t be the real thing, but they’ll be the best ones you can get at a beauty shop in the middle of nowhere.”
“Be good, Aleesha, and be quiet.”
We both giggled. I couldn’t tell what she was doing, but Aleesha had proven so multi-talented, I assumed she was equally good at anything she put her mind to. The results would be delightful, not just satisfactory.
Aleesha worked for an amazing ten or fifteen minutes without saying a word. I was quiet, too, except for yelping when she pulled my hair too tight. I felt my confidence level slipping.
