My 4-Day Canadian Dream Came True

My 4-Day Canadian Dream Came True:

A Short Story

By Cindy Morris

Each day counts, especially when you are living with a chronic, terminal illness.  My dream to go spend a few days with our very dear friends (“Gary” and “Dot”) on their new mission assignment came true.  The four days fell perfectly in the off period between chemo treatments, and God gave me just enough strength, health and warm sunshine for the journey. Mark and I have been friends with Gary and Dot for 20 years now; they came to join our team serving a refugee community in Central Asia, in 1991.  The undeniable love of Christ, shared freely between us and in relation to needy Afghans, still rings so true in their lives and home.

Driving last Saturday from Michigan, past Lake Huron and on into Canada, brought us to the doorstep of the townhouse of our old friends. As usual Gary and Dot had prayerfully and carefully chosen their neighborhood, a strategic spot where immigrants from around the world locate, to live in the West but in a truly multicultural setting.  Just across the main street, immediately adjacent to this complex, stands a dilapidated high-rise, home to newly arrived refugees–Afghan and the like. We were out on that street soon after arrival in need of a pharmacy; on that one walk Dot introduced me to two sets of Afghan lady friends also making their way to and from the shops nearby.  The next “step up” for these refugees is across the way where our friends live.  Each three-story dwelling there, one right next to the other, seemed to spill over with single moms, boyfriends and kids; dogs, bikes and trash, needs and hurts. Dot steps next door each morning at 7:30 a.m. to pray for and brush through 9-year-old Emily’s hair, since her mother’s cancer treatment has left her right arm limp. No telling what this little ministry will mean in this girl’s life.

After Dot served us a delicious, spicy Asian meal that Saturday night, we sat with them and with a continual flow of green tea, reminiscing and hearing about their new community—the House of Prayer ministry, an effective Afghan radio outreach and what to expect for worship in their home the next day.

Late Sunday morning found a roomful of people seated on “toshak” floor pillows and a couch or two.  We sang together as teenager “Jim” led us on his guitar while his dad kept rhythm on a beloved Afghan drum.  Gary had told the house church ahead of time to feel free to share an “offering,” a praise of God’s work in our lives the week prior.  The Hispanic family, Bev (a lifelong Canadian) and Faida (an Afghan convert from Islam) shared openly; Dot sat next to the latter quietly translating for her. Each testimony stemmed from words of the Bible that had spoken into their situations and brought clarity.  Gary’s interactive lesson from the book of Luke stretched our understanding of the Kingdom of God and transposed easily into this neighborhood:  Love your enemies. Do good to them. Lend to those in need without expecting back.

After prayer, Gary asked one of the children to present this week’s “GeTKO” (Getting To Know Others) question:  a random and fun way to sweeten the fellowship. That Sunday: “Where is your favorite place to sit and why?”  Young and old responded with thought and laughter.  Both tea prior, and a homemade soup afterwards were served. Everyone pitched in to help clean up.  This house church really looks/behaves like the one described in the book of Acts.

Late afternoon on Sunday we made our way across town to the home of a wonderful Afghan family. I could not hold back the tears upon hearing the way Jesus entered the life of the mom, who as a very young girl was sent away from Kabul to Russia alone, in order to escape war, famine and obtain an education.  Hers is only one story, but what a gift from God for me to finally again sip Afghan “chai” around such a testimony. Her vision of Jesus robed in white calling her to faith somehow resonates with me on a deeper level, now that cancer has brought me close to death and closer to Jesus.

The final full day in Canada started with my early elliptical workout in the basement, followed by a heart-to-heart mentoring session between Dot and her co-worker Cathy. I was kindly asked to sit in. Transparent sharing and praying, especially in regard to “controlling” our husbands, touched a place we all needed to evaluate.  Such is authentic discipleship. To be potentially great wives, moms and great ministers demands frequent discussion and tons of prayer; that, too, I have learned.

One exceptional event occurred on Monday afternoon. While the men went off to prayer walk, we girls walked in the other direction to the community center for the weekly ladies’ ethnic meeting. This time the topic was ”belly dancing” (see photo); the guest speaker shared how the origin of the dance was actually not erotic but rather a beautiful expression of color, clanging, and swaying to Egyptian song. I was surprised to see most of the dozen women from Korea, Pakistan, Iraq, North Africa and North America, without hesitation, dress up and try some moves to the music.  The endless smiles and spontaneous laughter from the group made it clear to me that this center is meeting not only practical but also deep emotional needs of women who live far from home. Now I can pray with insight for Dot and the other Christians involved, as they seek to be “salt and light” at the center on Monday afternoons.

Before Jim got home from school, the four of us adults took a nice drive north to visit the Mennonite community. The horse-drawn carriages, maple syrup museum and quilt shop are sealed in my memory as good reminders of simple living and the joy of hard work, as well as of the peace and quiet that takes over when electricity does not!  :)

That night we treated our hosts to a yummy Middle Eastern meal nearby. That’s when Gary asked his own GeTKO question:  ”So, if you could become something other than what you are today, what would it be?” Our answers included: a physical trainer, a singer, a journalist, a dancer, a doctor or an intelligence agent. Can you tell that we have hit mid-life crisis?

By the time sunny Tuesday morning came, Gary and Dot and Mark and I decided to walk again, this time toward the corner at the light for lunch at “Timmy’s”  (short for Tim Horton’s–the well known Canadian doughnut and coffee shop). Keenly aware that we had only a few hours left together, the deeper issues arose. How sweet to be “family” and freely share honestly of those most personal concerns.  And on top of that, we four have so much fun!

The time flew.  We returned home arm in arm, closed our bags, hugged and headed to the airport, out of breath and deeply satisfied.