THANKSGIVING FOR MY SISTER AND MY FRIEND – given at my sister’s funeral

It was when Mary had joined me for a year in New Guinea that one of the Missionaries children asked me, ‘Is Auntie Mary your sister or your friend?’ I was delighted to tell her that she was my sister and my friend.

We were in a family of four. Big brother John, Mary, me next and then our little sister Joy. We used to say the rhyme, ‘2,4, 6, 8…..’, but it was when we found salvation that we became very close.

Mary  by now was trapped in a very unhappy marriage. But I was teaching with Esther and had attended the house groups in her home – they had just been led into the Apostolic Church, - and was challenged to leave the cult in which we had been brought up. It was a very hard time for me. Our parents, and the dear friends with whom we had been brought up, thought I had gone to the devil. I was scared to meet them, and equally scared of the folk in the little Apostolic church in Barking where they spoke in tongues, but some would behave somewhat strangely. How could I go on?

I came home from the prayer meeting to find Mary had been sent back home by her husband. Tragedy for their marriage, but what a strength for me. It was just a few weeks and Mary too had left the ‘Bible Students’ and together we were accepted into Apostolic Fellowship at Barking. But before she left, she had had opportunities to speak out boldly of our faith in the Trinity,  that Jesus is our Lord and our God and the Holy Spirit a person within the Godhead.

At that time I found great difficulty in expressing myself and had felt that I had to speak by my actions, but together we were able to make our position plain.

Mary’s difficulties in her marriage increased, for now her husband blamed all his troubles onto Pentecost and the Apostolic Church. One evening he had come round to see our parents to warn them of the great danger we were in. Mary and I were huddled in my bedroom, wrapped in a blanket of depression fearing the outcome, when suddenly Mary began to sing –

            ‘I’ve wondrous peace through trusting, a well of joy within…..

It goes on ‘To the uttermost Jesus saves.’    We sang it right through, and that little room was filled with glory.

It was on one of the occasions when her husband had left her that we went to a Divine healing service. ‘We believe that God can heal marriages,’ the minister declared. Mary went forward for prayer for the healing of her marriage, and God did heal, though she had to face many trials before then.

Mary began to have serious health issues, which doctors had thought caused by her difficult marriage, and eventually they found she had a very large brain tumour. She was a tremendous testimony in it all, asking for all those who knew her to pray, and facing it all without fear. She was the Area Women’s leader in  London at that time, and she had courage to lead these big rallies, even though she struggled for some time with recalling  words.

Now reunited, she was able to care for her husband until he died.(He was 20 years older than she was.) She continued to care for his older sister for another 9 years, while she was a faithful deaconess in the Ilford assembly, like Phoebe, ‘full of good works.’

How happy we were when our dear Pastor Les cast his garment over her and became such a wonderful caring husband. With Les and Joel such good friends what a happy foursome we were, and I was able to see so much of my Sister and Friend.

In our childhood Mary was not only the pretty, but also the clever one, and went on to gain her degree at Cambridge,- how it is that now I am the one left with my wits I don’t know, but I do know Mary was always diligent to see she had her quiet time, and she had that deep relationship with the Lord with could not be destroyed.

Sometimes in her dementia she would get delusions, and if Les phoned me in the day I would know he was having difficulty. He would put Mary on to speak to her sister. It was always about  some meeting where she was supposed to be ministering, or someone in need she had to visit, and she could not convince her husband to take her..

‘Well, we’ll pray.’ So I prayed.

‘Well, you weren’t much good.’ She told me.

I acted indignant. ‘Yes, I was. I prayed.’  ‘Oh yes.’ She seemed satisfied.

It was just a few months ago that I had the sad task of telling Mary that our brother John had died. I took the album of us as children. Yes, she recognised John.

I told her, ‘John is in heaven now.’ ‘Oh!’ and her face lit up. This was something wonderful. She listened happily as I shared something of her testimony with the friends who had brought me. As it was time to go we had a time of prayer. ‘Would you like to pray, Mary?’ ‘Yes’ she said, and burst out into tongues. 

Death is always an enemy and there is sadness in our hearts, for Mary has been a sister and a friend to many of us, but for me I shall always remember how, when she saw me come to visit her she would  joyfully tell the carers, ‘She’s my sister.’

I am so privileged to have had such a lovely sister and friend.

MARY - MEMORIES

Tribute to a special sister – Pauline writes

‘My earliest memory of my elder sister is of her playing peep-bo with me. I was lying by an open window in my pram. The breeze was blowing the net curtain and I could hear my mother’s voice, ‘Don’t wake Pauline.’ But this was our secret and we were supremely happy.

Two of our four siblings, we were the closest, and as so often happens, it was a love hate relationship, our happiness so often marred by jealousy.

I don’t think Mary often had need to be jealous of me. To me she was the clever, the beautiful one. I remember longing to be six because I thought then I would be like Mary, but of course by the time I was six she was eight and there was no change.

Mary seemed to sail through life. In the Juniors, all the boys loved her. In high school exams held no fear for her, and she went on to gain a scholarship to Cambridge. 

There was no competition academically. I was much happier at school once they accepted that I was not university material, and was at Saffron Walden teacher training college whilst Mary was at Cambridge and we got on much better now we were living our separate lives.

Back at home, we both went into teaching but I don’t think Mary ever had the satisfaction in this that I did. We all found our Dad difficult to live with, probably Mary more so because she  was a stronger character and so, sadly, she found her escape from the confines of home to find she was trapped in an unsuitable and very unhappy marriage.

Mary, so beautiful, so confident, gradually had all her confidence stripped away, but it was perhaps through this that she turned to the Lord, not just for intellectual satisfaction – we had been brought up in the Bible Students –but for salvation and all that it entails.

We became very close, but whereas I had found deliverance from my jealousy, it was very hard for Mary now, for I had become the one to take the lead in coming into the Apostolic Church, and while Esther and I were able to go the Penygroes convention, and had been baptised in the Holy Spirit, she felt she was missing out spiritually. But God had his own ways of meeting with her, and when her husband had a break down, which led on to times of separation, she was able to share with us in many of the blessings of being in Apostolic fellowship. Together we were received into fellowship in the little Apostolic Church in Barking (in London’s East End)

But now, while we single girls were hoping for a husband, Mary was feeling she was missing out on God’s blessings because of her married status, and that I had the best spiritually. It certainly didn’t help her marriage that her husband felt she was closer to me.

At a time when they were separated, Mary came out to join me for a year on the mission field in New Guinea. She taught in my place so that I could concentrate on language study and the Sunday School work, and was wonderful in coping with all the hardship of primitive conditions. She was thrilled when the suggestion was made that we return together, she teaching in a government school while I gave myself fully to the Children’s work.   

We returned to UK, and she coped with teaching, which, while not primitive, is still a great challenge, until she was told she could not be accepted for New Guinea because of her marital status – she was separated, not divorced. Her world seemed to have collapsed around her.

But she had previously gone forward at a service for Divine healing and asked prayer for the healing of her marriage.   Now, in wonderful ways, God brought about this miracle. Her husband, by now an old man – he was 20 years older than she was – was glad to ‘try again.’

Many years before, the Lord had impressed on Mary that she should spend an hour with Him each day. She had insisted on keeping this time on a previous occasion when he had returned to her. At that time he was seeking to brain wash her, blaming all their marital difficulties on Pentecost and the Apostolic Church – and she believed it was this precious quiet time which enabled her to survive.

He began to continue with this brain washing, but the Lord intervened and they were willing to accept each other as they were. It was then, when Mary had learned contentment in her lot in caring for her husband, -  I was now in Ghana,- that her husband realised that there was a serious problem with Mary’s health and they diagnosed a brain tumour.

Mary was a wonderful testimony through this time, asking for messages to be sent to all the assemblies to pray. She was the Area Women’s leader, and she continued with this, even as she was convalescing and had difficulty in recalling words. She made an amazing recovery, even driving again in London traffic.

She had been a faithful member, and deaconess in the small assemblies she had been attending; Barking/Ilford first, then Exeter when her husband bought a cottage in Branscome, Devon, thinking he was making it impossible for her to get to an Apostolic church, and then when they were back in Ilford. Mary would never come to church unprepared. She would be quick to pray, always praising the Lord, and usually had a  scripture portion, or something to contribute. She had learned the secret of godliness with contentment.

She cared for her husband until his death, and then continued to care for his elderly sister who lived in the flat upstairs, until she died nine years later. In all she had fourteen years as a widow until her dear Leslie took her into his heart to love and to cherish as she deserved to be. 

Those years which we had as a foursome were very precious. Mary had thought for me to marry a pastor had been a wonderful honour, as indeed it was, and God had the same honour for her. For some years we went on holidays together, and up to recent years, especially after I was widowed, we would meet in Gnoll park. They would come there from the prayer meeting in SAron. Coffee in the visitors centre, a walk round the lake and a meal together, and we would go on our way. But with the passing years the walks got less and eventually we were no longer able to meet like this, and though I was occasionally able to drive to Ystrad, my life line with my precious sister was the telephone.

Mary had been wonderful in her support of me. Especially since Joel went ahead of me to heaven, it has been so precious to be able to share my joys and sorrows, hopes and fears with Mary, who would always promise to pray, and she would always ask what I had planned so that she might pray for me.

Even when I knew there was no hope of her remembering to pray,  I knew it was in her heart to do so, and sometimes she would just pray for a need as we were talking together.

I have been so blessed to have such a precious, godly sister. She has been a witness, even in her dementia, content, and loving, shedding abroad the fragrance of her wonderful Saviour.

THE COURAGE OF CALEB

Switching to Facebook, I was surprised to find my profile picture filling the page,  congratulations abounding.

It was taken on the occasion of my eightieth birthday, but how it got onto my page at this time I have no idea. Sometimes I think my computer has a mind of its own, while at other times I know that God is in charge, yes, even of computers.

But this reminder of a big ‘O’ that was almost five years ago, brings me to my hero, Caleb, who said, ‘I am eighty five years old, yet……… my natural health has not abated.’ I was always hoping to be like him. He was begging Joshua to let him be involved in the fight against their enemies. ‘Give me this mountain,’ he cried, and Joshua did give it to him, but he had to wage war against their enemies and claim it.

Some people, turning eighty, or even seventy, think it is time to give up, or at least retire and enjoy a leisurely life, and I’ve had loving friends who told me I am doing too much, but thank God, he doesn’t tell me this but reminds me of his calling and assures me of his strength and blessing. But sadly, with a ‘shooggily’ shoulder and a rickety knee, in these nearly five years since my ‘big O’, my natural health seems to have been abating. Caleb, are you letting me down?

Gently, the Lord reminds me that I have never had too much natural health. A bonny baby until, at two years old I only just survived whooping cough, after that I  was a concern to my mother. ’Pauline, you are not strong enough to be a missionary,’ I was told, while when I arrived in New Guinea some of my colleagues  gave me a year at the most to last the rigorous conditions.

Before I went overseas, I was struggling against the wind and the rain to get to a convention service, and asked, ‘Lord, why do you give me so little strength?’ I did not have to wait for his answer. ‘I am sending you to a task that is beyond your strength and I want you to learn to rely on me.’

So today, when I set out for one of our local schools to take an assembly or teach Bible Explorer, wondering how I can find the strength, God reminds me of these words and I claim his promise, ‘The Lord is my strength and my song.’ Yes, he gives, not only strength, but joy too.

Still my hero, Caleb has inspired me, not just for his courage in old age, or his strategic skills in warfare, but by his endurance in hard times.

Remember – they were just ten days out of Egypt; the Promised Land within sight. Young and fit, he and Joshua knew they were well able to possess it, but because the rest of the spies refused to trust God and to lead the people in they too were condemned to wander for forty years in the wilderness.   

God had said, ‘Except for Joshua and Caleb, none of you will enter in. You will all die in the wilderness. But your children –‘

Imagine living with a people without hope. And yet, a generation did arise at Joshua’s call and  went in and possessed the land. Yes, it was the children who had grown up with a different spirit. I’m sure it was the teaching and example of Joshua and Caleb which had made the difference.  

We know Caleb had a special portion of health and strength. When all around him found old age to be ‘labour and sorrow,’ God made it up to him, and in his old age gave him strength to claim that mountain.

But we don’t read that he went on to fight another  battle.

No, he had set the example, but now he challenged the young men, maybe bribing them with the promise of marrying his daughter. ( I guess he had a good idea who would accept the challenge, and we read how it was Othniel who married Achsah and together they  went on to possess their possessions.)

Maybe this is why Caleb is still my hero. He helped me to hold on and trust God when our fellowship seemed to be at a low ebb. Now, widowed and in my eighties, when I am feeling weary and think  maybe it would be good  if God called me home, he reminds me of the ministry he has given me over the years and which still burns brightly in my heart. And he reminds me too of how he taught me to climb mountains when I was in New Guinea. Feeling I could go no further, he asked me, ‘Can you take one step?’ I can always take one step, and that one leads on to another.

So today, with the spirit of Caleb, may we Senior Citizens  ask him for strength to take one step. And if our natural strength is abating, we can still reach out to the younger ones who have so many burdens to bear, and take what we can off their loads and, like Caleb, help to raise a generation who will shake off the unbelief and rejection of their fathers and arise and do exploits for God.

P.S. I have just realised: Caleb had been robbed of forty of the best years of his life while they marched round and round in the wilderness. Now God was restoring the years the locusts had eaten. Yes, we can emulate, but not envy. God will give each one of us his best, if we will trust him.

CHRISTMAS SHOPPING

I may not have had a bath in years, though yes, I do shower, but now I enjoyed telling my friends that I was going to Bath.

My legs are not up to much shopping these days, but when you live alone it is good to seize any opportunity for fun and fellowship. With my dear mate Kitty beside me, we were on our way.

Meanwhile a prayer partner, my blind friend who lives in Spain had been given a picture of an old fashioned bath. What could it mean? Then she remembered Pauline was on her way to Bath. Could there be some special need? She was praying for me throughout the day. And God was answering.

By the time we had walked  into the town my legs had had enough, but a handy coffee shop was a refuge. Everywhere was full, but someone moved so there were two seats for us together. We were refreshed. Next stop a toilet. Go to M & S we were told. A feast for the eyes, though we didn’t buy anything before we queued for this facility. Ready then for directions to the Abbey. Like a great mother ship surrounded by people bobbing about on a stormy  sea,or maybe a mother hen, ready to gather her chicks, but  we found the doors shut. We must wait for the Carol service for shoppers which would be on the hour, and sadly no cafeteria.

But all we wanted was a place to sit. We went into the Abbey bookshop, and here was an open door into the Abbey, where we were able to rest, basking in the beauty and blessing of God’s house.

 A stewardess greeted us as she passed and we invited her to sit with us. How wonderful to share the various ways God has led us, and we felt the Lord’s touch in a special way as we joined hands and prayed together.

Not only had this gracious lady blessed us, but she directed us to St. Michael’s for a simple lunch. No, not far. Soup and bread and butter for me. Just right. Then another  struggle through the surging crowds  and by now the doors of the Abbey were wide open and a wonderful welcome for all the happy, but weary shoppers, until every seat was filled.

Just a twenty minute service and how blessed we were by the simple message and participation in the carols and prayers.  We went on our way with the gift of a Jesus booklet and offer of prayer or ministry. They were doing this every hour and each time that great abbey was packed. What a wonderful bir

thday gift for the Christ child, our Saviour.

We decided to have a cup of tea in the café in M & S, but a fruitless search for two seats led us directly to the expected queue for the toilets. As I came out, two seats were vacated - just for us. My dear Kitty then queued for refreshment while I sat and enjoyed ‘people watching’. Everyone seemed so happy, as if they had all been as blessed as we had been.

Time  to make our way back for the bus. The lights were on, making the city a fairy land. It was only  then that the heaven’s open, though it had been raining in Porthcawl all day long. How grateful we were to find the bus waiting for us, and to step out of our dripping coats. And though it was a very windy day, somehow it had always been behind our backs, blowing us along.

Yes, we were worn out. I could hardly move the next day, but our trip to Bath had been a blessing I will long remember, and remember, too, the gift of friendship and fellowship. Especially I thank God for those who,  no longer able to share such blessings, claim God’s guidance and protection for us through their prayers.

A PEARL ANNIVERSARY

No,  not a wedding anniversary, but very special nevertheless. The first of our Ladies Weekends was held  at Bryntirion Bible College, Bridgend, but of later years we have been meeting at Hebron Hall, Dinas Powys and  are now named our ‘Well-being conference.’  It is thirty years since it began and we thought it worthy of a special celebration.

I am privileged to have been one of the ‘old originals’, but sadly missed a few through the years. Bryntirion was on our doorstep, so Joel could bring me, then pick me up in time for us to make the evening service. He was not keen to take me all the way to Dinas Powys, and yes, I confess, I thought I was getting too old.

Then they booked an additional weekend for Eunice to lead a prayer seminar. Asked to pray for good attendance, I became part of the answer. Promised a lift, yes, and a room to myself, it was a mountain top experience, and I knew now that I must be share in this special ministry among the ladies.

This weekend it  was wonderful to be reminded of those beginnings; especially for me  to hear Mair recount how God’s hand had been heavy upon her, and how she and Miriam had stepped out in faith to launch this ministry. As she shared of Pastor Ian MacPherson’s reaction when she dared to ask him to be our speaker, I realised how indebted I am to his ministry, for he had carried this message for women in his heart for over twenty years before being given this opportunity to share it, and it is a word I have treasured and seen outworked in my life; to know that, as Mary carried the Word of God in her womb, so to us it is given to carry within us the living Word, and we too can know a quickening and nurturing until the right time comes for it to be brought forth. I often say to people, I may not have given birth to children, but God does give me books and poems, as well as other ministries.

There must be so many more testimonies of how God has spoken to us through the years.

Usually we’ve had  women bringing the word to us through the years, but for this special anniversary, we were back to a man, our dear Pastor Warren Jones, with his wife Anne. His theme was Treasure Seekers, and the treasure, of course, the Pearl of great price, our Wonderful Saviour..

We are always sent home with a gift. Last year we had a little box but - no portion of cake inside. It was empty! We were sent home to fill it with prayers of thanksgiving. Mine soon became full. I am a writer after all. So now I have a  book in which I write these  special prayers of thanksgiving. But this year, can you guess? We had already had a piece of our Pearl anniversary cake at our surprise Saturday afternoon party, with jelly and ice cream, games and all. But now we each had a pearl in a little presentation box to bring home to remind us, not just of a very special weekend, but of Jesus, our Pearl of greatest price.

We had special times of praise and worship; special testimonies, and special times of fun and games, and fellowship, but for me the most special time was when we gathered around the Lord’s table for communion. It was  the beginning of the day, before breakfast. I felt overcome with emotion. What is this? I asked. Then the Lord told us, it was a very special time, but it is because we are all so special to him that he wants us to be able to experience this communion with him at any and every time.

So, to all those wonderful ladies who work so hard to make this weekend so very special, and who let us know we are never too old to come and bless as well as be blessed, and to our wonderful Heavenly Father, who gave his precious Son to be our Treasure, and who meets with us year by year at our Well-Being conference at Hebron Hall, a big big thank you

Disguise

Do you enjoy fancy-dress or, for some reason, taking on a disguise? There is a story in the Old Testament about a queen who is told to put on a disguise, but sadly it was not for any party. It was her husband the king’s idea that she should go to the prophet, but -   in disguise.  Did she, or her husband, King Jereboam,  really think she could deceive a prophet? In any case, by now was blind. But if you read the story, (you can read it in as it in the book of Kings), perhaps you will agree with me that both of them were already  living in disguise.

Perhaps all she needed to do was to take off her tiara, her jewelled sandals and the paint from her face - as well as her fingers and toes? Maybe it would have been enough to go and borrow the worn and scuffed sandals of a servant, and wrap the old shawl around her that was usually used to cover the woman’s straggly hair. It would have been no problem to disguise her voice, for it was usually brittle as glass, when she commanded her unfortunate servants, and of course, she would have had to bend her proud head.

But are not many of us, like King Jereboam’s wife,  already in disguise? I used to laugh at my mother when she used her special telephone voice, but some of us renounce the dialects or even cockney accents of our childhood, and some would-be preachers have  even be known to adopt a slightly American accent, hoping to be another great evangelist.

Some of us ‘oldies’ would not dream of going to the cinema, yet do not discriminate over what we have ‘on the box’ at home. And we all know what it means to ‘put on a face.’ How often does beautifully applied make-up and a confident poise hide a broken heart or a painful addiction?

Jereboam’s wife was sent to visit the prophet in disguise, hoping she might hear some good news concerning their son, who was so desperately ill. I suppose visiting the prophet was the nearest they felt they could get to God? But did they really think they could fool God with a disguise?

The prophet might be blind, but God was not. She has not yet reached the door when the old man calls out, ‘Come in, Wife of Jereboam,’ and before she can utter a sound he is speaking out the word she dreaded, that their child would die. But there is more.   He continues, and now  he  speaks those words that should encourage all of us who teach God’s word to the children: that their child would be the only one in all of their family who would have a decent burial, because he had lived to please the Lord.

We do not have to go to a prophet to hear God speak. Through the death of Jesus, God’s own Son, on the cross, we are able to go to the great Creator God himself and call him our Father.   We can come to him with open face. No need of a posh voice, or of putting on a face. He sees us as beautiful, even if our hair is a mess. And he knows just what we have been watching, or thinking or saying.

We can pray with the Psalmist, ‘Search me oh God, and see if there be any wicked way in me..’

Oh yes, we all have need of some beauty treatment, but we must go to our Father. It is he who is already at work in our lives, changing us; transforming us into the likeness of his Son, and he loves to hear and answer our prayers. So – be glad. We can take off our masks.       (You will find this story in 1 Kings 14)

A REAL LIVE MISSIONARY

Many years ago I was introduced to the children as ‘a real live missionary.’ We have laughed about it ever since. But when, recently, I was introduced as someone who used to be a missionary that made me sad, for I know that being a missionary is a calling and does not depend on location, financial support or lack of it, or even age, and we should all be missionaries.

I had to learn to be content to be a missionary in the East End of London before ever I went to the ‘uttermost parts of the earth.’ 

I had read about Mary Slessor, but did not know anything about present day missionary work when God first spoke to me. It was through hearing the scriptures read of how Jesus sent his disciples out into the villages. Somehow I knew this was a word to me. I presumed this would be the villages of UK as I had heard about a Caravan Mission to Village children.

Then God led me into the Apostolic Church and my eyes were opened to a wider field and  met some ‘real live missionaries.’ Whenever they came to visit, from Africa, India or elsewhere, I felt God challenging me, Was I willing to go there?

Maybe I had to be willing to go before I could really pray for them?  I told the Lord I would go anywhere for him, but not alone. I was hardly of the calibre of my friend Esther, who had already gone as a single missionary.

But Mr. Right did not appear, God’s call became more persistent, and teaching in London’s East End became even tougher. Was I regarding my missionary work as a way of escape?

I was praying, asking God where I was to go. Maybe Southern Ireland? It was certainly a mission field at that time and I had contacts there, and no scary mountains or vine bridges.

Then God spoke to me through his prophet. ‘Your calling is not to a person or to a place. It is a joyful abandonment to your God.’

And so God made me willing to be a missionary just where I was, and I believe God did do great things through me in those few years, though I didn’t see it at the time. But still his word persisted, that I would go abroad.

 

At last a request came for teachers or nurses with a missionary call to volunteer for the Australian mission fields and I knew I must answer. No Mr Right, or conviction concerning the place, but I wrote, expressing my willingness. There was a two year delay, and I must admit to some relief thinking that maybe all God had required was my willingness, but eventually I was all packed up and ready to go as a teacher to the Highlands of New Guinea.

A holiday, shortly before leaving, I stood on a bridge, watching the waters rushing over the brink to fall on the rocks below.  I had to turn aside. This is what it felt like for me to answer this call, but the Lord gently assured me, ‘The river is not afraid.’  

He reminded me of his word concerning a joyful abandonment to God’s will and knew he would work it all out.

Friends were coming to the airport to see me off. Again the fear engulfed me. ‘Lord, I won’t be able to do it,’ I whispered, ‘to leave all my friends and everything I know.’

In a picture I saw Jesus standing at the doors. He told me,  ‘I am going. You can come with me or you can leave me.’

There was a crowd at Heathrow airport, singing and praying. The call came for my flight. I almost ran through the doors, for I could not leave Jesus, and he was there waiting for me.

A month in Australia before another long and scary lap of the journey, but again the Lord spoke. ‘Rejoice in your going forth,’ and gave me the wonderful assurance, ‘I am pledged to come with you and you will be able to turn readily and easily to me at all times as to a friend who is alongside.’ These words God was speaking to me are all in the Bible, but the Holy Spirit brings them as a living word to our hearts at just the right time. They are still hidden in my heart and continue to be a strength to me.

At last I landed at Laiagam in the remote highlands of Papua New Guinea. I hadn’t any previous convictions concerning this place, but  it wasn’t long before I wanted to live and die there and when after five years I returned to UK and was told I could not return, the Lord had to remind me of his word, concerning a joyful abandonment to his will and that my calling was not to a specific place.

And so God made me willing to work again in UK until I was eventually asked to go to Ghana and there again I felt at home in God’s will.

In Australia I had been given a word, to ‘gain a knowledge of the language in the place where you are going.’ Having learned the Enga language, now I had joy in learning Ashanti Twi.

After yet another five fulfilling years in Ghana  God spoke about moving on. Was I to go back to Papua New Guinea? No, this time it to UK and specifically Wales, for I was to marry a Welshman. Yet another language to learn, though I have not yet become fluent in Welsh.

Five years as a minister’s wife and then Joel was retired from being a pastor with the Apostolic church, but we never considered ourselves retired from God’s calling in our lives We said we were re-tyred and used every opportunity to still serve him. When he died I had to learn the significance of those words, ‘…not to a person,’ and now as a widow and an octogenarian, many doors are still wide open for me to minister.

Why am I sharing this with you? Because I believe we are all called into the ministry, in whatever capacity, and we each need to know our calling is ‘not to a person or to a place, but a joyful abandonment to our God.’ And we can each turn to him as to a friend who is alongside, for he has promised he will never leave us or forsake us.

So have joy in being a ‘real live missionary,’ just where you are, and may we together prove what is that ‘good and acceptable and perfect (just right) will of God.’

(Romans 12: 2)