Tanguay family

It’s Thursday night, and we made it out the door, you know, one of these days where meltdowns just don’t seem to stop -shoes are nowhere to be found, bruises around every corner, wife is stressed out and husband is grumpy. (sorry honey :-) Being ‘missionaries’ makes nothing better. Being a follower of Christ does. And so for us, saving Grace is in the form of the words on the calendar “Visitation Day’. So we make it out the door, sit in the car, a little tensed, but soon the giggles spark and we fly over the potholes, and try to remember to drive on the left side of the road, but only if that’s the better side of the road of course. Jediah has to yell into the phone: -We are on our way, but where did you say you are? -I’m on the bus, going through Chimwemwe! I’m coming just now! Chimwemwe… one of the largest compounds of Zambia! Aie! This could take a long time. Oh well, we’re now parked on the side of the road, eating JIGGIES - little individual bags of puffed corn, 500 KWACHAS each, and sipping on carefully boiled and filtered water. Jediah met Matthews a few days ago on that same corner. We want to meet his wife and family, know where he lives, here in BUCHI, the very populated but not so popular area where Greater Grace Kitwe just acquired land and started building a men’s dorm and a foundation to put a tent up for church meetings. The sun is slowly going down, JIGGIES are almost gone, little hands and feet in back seat are getting antsy, we’re watching people as they walk by, some staring back at us, others oblivious to us MUZUNGUS sitting in the car. The vehicle we own is the very type of car used for all the taxis in Kitwe! One way to go a bit incognito  Thank God for a husband who starts commenting on the humorous culturally different images walking and driving in front of us. Suddenly a car stops in front of us and out of it emerges 2 girls one of which can barely stand, she takes one step and collapses on the hood of our car. The men back in the car are very amused. It’s such a sad scene. The drunk girl’s girlfriend is not willing to tell us how she got so drunk but seems in a hurry to take her away. A few steps and she’s on the dusty ground throwing up. Kezia, 4 years old, is watching from the backseat, asking questions, perplexed. Alcohol in Zambia is a strange phenomenon, nobody thinks anything of it. There are bars at every corner in this area. Drinking is absolutely normal and acceptable. Finally Matthews calls, he won’t make it any time soon. It’s dark now anyways and not so safe for us to be out here after sundown. So we have done nothing, but then again, is it about that? Our family was at the right place, at the right time. We would have killed each other anyways had we stayed home. This afternoon, remembering her Sunday school lesson about building on a rock, Kezia exclaims: ‘That girl the other night, she was not standing on the rock…’ To the point. I’m so grateful to be building our family –though in very insignificant ways at times- on the Rock, here, there, at home, overseas, anywhere.