My Heart Sits Down

Esther. Just one word--one name--one person--and, oh, what memories! When we were here in 2010, I asked everywhere we went, "Where is Esther?" In Monrovia, people told us they thought she was in Buchanan. In Buchanan, people told us they thought she was in Gbarnga. We never did find her or hear any definite word about her.

Why did I want to see Esther? Of all the Liberians I know, Esther and I were the closest but, sadly, we lost contact with each other. I had no idea what happened to her during the war--whether she was living in Liberia or as a refugee in Ivory Coast or Sierra Leone, or whether she was dead or alive.

When I arrived in Liberia in 1970, Esther was living in Zondo attending the elementary school. She was a teenager, married, and very pregnant. Her time to deliver came before I had been there 2 months, but I knew enough of the customs at that time to know that where she would deliver was far from ideal. Ellie, with whom I lived, offered one of the rooms in her house for any of the women who wanted to deliver with the Liberian mid-wife, but Esther chose (or maybe the choice was made for her?) to deliver in the traditional way: on a mat on the ground behind one of the houses with the older women to assist.

Ellie and I knew Esther was in labor, so after a while we went to see how she was doing. The next day, when news of the birth still had not come, we went to see her again. Ellie asked if we could call the airplane to carry Esther to the hospital, but the women refused. The next day we tried again and finally they agreed for the plane to come--but not before they had tried their traditional ways of getting that baby to cooperate. I won't go into detail here, but it's not a pretty picture.

We got word after a couple weeks that Esther was still in the hospital, not doing well at all. When the plane came our way, Ellie and I went to see her. Oh my, she looked awful, so skinny and sick. The baby girl had died--don't remember now if she was stillborn or died soon after birth--and though I never heard the official diagnosis, I think Esther almost died from peritonitis. She survived but sadly, her husband didn't want her anymore, so she was on her own.

When I went to live in a village for language study, Esther went with me for the first 2 weeks to help me adjust to village life. When Darrell and I got married, Esther was one of my bridesmaids. Some years later, when we were living in Buchanan, she came to live with us, sharing a room with Brad who was still in a crib at the time. She was a big help to me as I waited--impatiently--for Eric's arrival. After Eric's birth, Brad needed the bed Esther was using since Eric was in the crib, so Esther rented a room just a couple houses away from us and was still a big help to us.

Well.....today I finally saw Esther. Such rejoicing! So many hugs!! So much praising God for His goodness!!! And this is only the beginning. I asked if she could come visit for a while and she said she could come whenever I invite her. I told her I'm inviting her now! She will come Thursday evening. I don't think she will stay because she is in town for a church conference, but I hope she will be able to come stay for a while soon. We have much catching up to do!

And as far as Esther is concerned, now my heart can sit down. After all these years, we have found each other again. God is good!