April Showers

Getting back home is a coy process. I wander around the campus in Kenya basking in warm clear air. I have a lunch made up of leftovers---mango, a soft-boiled egg, some delicious salad provided by Kim Okesson. I bag the leftover jam, hard tack, hot dogs and mango and give it to a man who lingers in the shadows of campus life. He has a lean and hungry look. Later as we leave the gate he is there waving his thanks. He is hungry a lot of the time, I’m sure.
At 6 PM we give the goodbye hugs, pile into the college van/truck and leave after 17 days with this lovely college community—an oasis of God’s people.
Over the road once again - the shakes, rattles, and rolls - in, out and around lorries that stir up dust adding to the haze of the setting sun.
The plane is off on time—11 PM. It’s eight hours of dark flight to Amsterdam. I go through the checkpoint after trying a couple of wrong ways on revolving doors. I must be sleep-deprived for I normally negotiate these mazes easily.
I am to proceed to Starbucks as a point of rendezvous. But there are two in the concourse. I pick the larger one. It’s 6 AM and the place is like a morgue.
I watch two guys wash and squeegee windows surrounding the coffee shop. Soon the staff come to fold all these windows away like a folding wall. Folks are soon queuing up to get a cup of Java to jolt them awake. I find out later that Starbucks is not permitted in this city, only the airport. The Netherlands wants to protect its hundreds of small shops.
I nod off a number of times. 7 o’clock and no hint of dawn. Its overcast—let’s call it rain. In Machakos showers like this would cause much rejoicing to save crops. But here it is just depressing winter. Occasionally some flakes will fall here. But they will not even whiten the ground. So it’s not a cheery scene. UNTIL….
It’s nearly eight, the time of rendezvous. I glance behind me—and there she is. April Joy Gustafson smiling like the sun. She waves, we give a bear hug—and all is changed. April showers her cheer with a bright smile and sparkling eyes. How did such splendor ever come from the likes of me? I know, I know—a much larger gene pool.
She has a coffee while I tell of my adventures. Then it’s off to the train to Amsterdam and the long walk to the hostel.
April decided to volunteer here on the staff of a Christian hostel. Scads of mostly young people float through this city, many of them coming to look for work. They come from all over Europe and the world. April and the staff give listening ears and quiet witness while serving meals and housing these transients. She takes her turn cooking and doing other housekeeping work. The staff lives in a house a five minute bike ride away, while taking turns by twos to sleep in the hostel as law requires.
Speaking of bikes. This is bike city. Thousands in public squares and along the streets. In the rain, on they go, holding an umbrella in one hand and steering with the other. There are bike lanes here in many places. April says she once saw a guy balancing a comfy chair on his head while pedaling away through the traffic. It's as aamzing to me as the African women who walk miles with a 50 pound load on their head.
A 20 minute walk in the rain brings us to the hostel where I meet staff from UK , Czech, and other countries. We sit in the dining area, where I put my gloves and shirt on the radiator to dry. Wish I dared take my pants off and do the same—they are pretty damp. April tells me of their daily Bible explorations and how some guests have professed faith—three being baptized not long ago.
I decide this is good place to change underwear, put on my Henley and otherwise get real about the cold weather in my near future. I head for the men's room, leaving wet stuff on the small radiator.
Now dry, I talk about April's plans, her passion. I find she is really insightful about life, what it means to follow Jesus, and how she can invest herself in kingdom work. She is a woman of prayer and seeking the will of God. I remind her that when she was a kid one would never guess that she would become a people person and adventurous enough to live 10,000 miles from home and be comfortable with it all. She even plans perhaps to go back to her work in the Great North Woods taking college freshman out on backpacking and canoeing trips for another summer. And we talk of her going with me to India next fall. This is the time to see the world and listen for the whisper of God’s Spirit.
It’s time to head back to Schiphol Airport. This time, even though it is now barely drizzling, we take the trolley. An obliging guy on the train platform snaps a photo of us. I mount the train to the upper deck and wave down at her as the car pulls away.
What a profound joy to see this bundle of joy I once held in my lap with her two cousins when they were just a few years old—now a grown woman with a world focus. And above all, she thinks her grandfather is cool. Does life on this side of glory get any better than that? And to think I have four other grand-daughters just as wonderful. (I’ll speak of the three grandsons another time.)
It’s January. But April showers have fallen on the soft earth of this heart.