The Preacher's Son - Juliette Duncan Page 0,12
blouse.
“Call yourself an Aussie.” Hayden laughed and then yawned as he joined me, making the mattress springs squeak. He hadn’t slept as much as me on the plane since he was glued to the window like he usually was whenever we flew.
I smiled at him fondly as he slipped his arms around me and pulled me close. We lay there for a few moments but we both knew how easy it would be to miss dinner if we stayed too long, so we took it in turns to shower and dress.
Once ready, Hayden took my hand as we walked to the main hall for dinner, which was a simple meal of rice and black beans. After we finished, David ushered our group towards the chapel, a small but elaborately decorated structure that took pride of place in the camp. It bulged with residents, workers, and volunteers at the project who clapped and cheered as our group entered. It was quite overwhelming, and I felt very humbled and inadequate.
We sat at the front on a narrow bench seat while David officially welcomed our group. He shared a little more about his own background and how he and Julia had set up Safe Hands nearly ten years earlier. They’d met when she came to Brazil as a missionary and were married within a year of meeting. One of the residents of the newly constructed houses then gave a powerful testimony that brought tears to my eyes. He was so grateful for the help of Safe Hands and for his beautiful new home.
To my surprise, Julia stood and addressed the congregation, but mainly our group. Her quiet voice had surprising strength, and as she talked about the journey of St. Paul and Barnabas to Cyprus in the Book of Acts, what might well have been the first ever Christian ‘mission’, the congregation, including our group, were all attentive.
“It’s not easy,” she said in her compelling voice, “to be a stranger in a strange land. Just like Paul and Barnabas, you’re stepping into uncharted territory, and I can assure you, you won’t leave here unchanged.”
A shudder went through me and I leaned closer to Hayden as I wondered what that meant for us.
After Julia finished, three Brazilian women sang a beautiful hymn in Portuguese. I didn’t need to know the words to feel the power of their voices and to feel my spirit lifted.
David then led the congregation in a prayer to bless the new missionary cohort. We all bowed our heads as he began. “Lord, thank You for bringing these people, Your people, here to Safe Hands. We’re grateful for the sacrifices they have made and their commitment to doing Your work, and we thank You for putting the call to mission on their hearts and giving them the courage to answer. May they have a powerful encounter with Your Spirit during their time here, and may we all be blessed by Your presence working through them. We thank You for the continuing blessings that You pour out on Safe Hands, and for the love You’ve shown us all. In Jesus’ precious name. Amen.”
“Amen,” I echoed along with the others as tears pricked the corners of my eyes.
A short while later, as Hayden and I walked back to our cabin hand in hand, the sky was tinged pink and gold as it wound down to dusk. The sound of insects chirping filled the cooler evening air.
Hayden put his arm around me and kissed the top of my head. “What do you think so far?”
“Everyone seems lovely,” I answered, “and very genuine. They do some really good work here. Already I’m glad we came.”
“So am I,” he said.
“Julia and David are really inspiring.”
“They are, aren’t they?” he said eagerly, his face brightening. “David’s certainly an amazing role model.” His voice trailed away as though he was about to say something else but thought better of it. I could fill in the gaps... David was the sort of pastor Hayden would have wanted to be. While I could certainly understand the sentiment, old fears entwined their fingers around my chest, but I had to push them aside and stay in the moment. Nothing was wrong. We were here, together, and we were happy.
I was longing for sleep by the time we arrived at our cabin. Although the bed was tiny, I was still grateful for it as I thought of the kids who lived on the city streets, with no bed other than a piece