Siambele -- Sherry

Being at Siamabele had that same small town feel that being in Alabama has for me. I felt at home and welcome. The people all knew each other and really made me feel like I belonged. I would love to find a way to infect American churches with the enthusiasm that these Christians had for gathering together. I'd been telling Martha for days that I really didn't want to talk to the Ladies. She kept encouraging me, but finally on Friday night, she recognized how worried I was, so she said that if I really didn't want to speak that she would do it. All Friday evening and Saturday morning, I just kept praying. Every time Martha would say that I didn't have to speak, I would get more courage, and I would tell myself, "No, you can do this." On Saturday, just before I had to speak, I started to feel sick; I got really hot, and Martha thought I might have a fever. Mary Beth gave me some Tylenol, and Martha offered one more time to give the lesson, but I decided I would do it. At the beginning, I just kept praying that I wouldn't throw up, but once I got started, I started to feel better. The interpreter was a wonderful, lively woman named Royce, who seemed to know just how to communicate the message God gave me to share with the ladies. The other really faith-building thing that happened at Siamabele -- I ate village nshima right out of the community pot, with my hand! I just did what Ruhtt said and decided to trust God. I didn't get sick or anything . . . although Mary Beth said that I might still get worms a month from now.

That's it for now. --- Sherry