Africa: Preach the Gospel Always...

This morning I said goodbye to the village that has been my home for the past two weeks.  Mass was a glorious affair, with drumming and singing and dancing, even though it's obviously not a Sunday.  I will never get over how beautiful He is in the Eucharist in the humble setting of the chapel there in Dafor.  His glory shines all the brighter, His generosity and goodness all the more apparent for the crude surroundings He humbles Himself to visit.  After Mass, Father gave a beautiful talk about the gratitude of the village and the impact our presence had made on them, and I cried.  The women presented us with beads as going away presents, and I cried more.  The children gathered around for a picture, and... I absolutely sobbed.
Father told us that one day, as he was driving, it occurred to him that there are twelve of us, just as there are twelve apostles.  He said that we were just like them, spreading the Gospel to the people of Dafor, yes, occasionally with our words, but more often with our actions. 
Not everyone in Dafor is Catholic, or even Christian.  Many of the men who worked alongside us on the church floor were not.  Our presence there was particularly baffling to them.  We have everything they want; why would we give it all up and actually pay to come work for free in their tiny little village?  How could we toil away at work to which we clearly were unaccustomed, day after day, always with smiles on our faces?  Why would we willingly submit ourselves to manual labor, stirring cement with shovels and carrying sand in pans on our heads?  The answer to these questions could be seen in the schedule we kept throughout our time in the village.  Our lives revolved around prayer: daily Mass, daily Eucharistic Adoration, and praise and worship on some evenings.  Our hunger for the Eucharist and the strength that it gave us to carry on served as a living example for all, a witness to His power and His love. 
Yet how much more exemplary was the generosity and the spirituality of the villagers!  They gave up so much for us to make us feel welcome.  One of the village elders gave up his home so the men would have a place to sleep.  Various parishioners were always bringing us bananas, pineapple, coconuts, or ground nuts (peanuts), and stopping by to greet us during meals and breaks.  When several of us were sick, their concern was apparent at every meeting.  The neighbors around the women's house constantly folded our laundry while we were gone for the day or filled up our water barrels.  Our cook made two meals a day (breakfast was simple most days) for all twelve of us every day, and before we met the Bishop of the Ho Diocese, she made dresses for all seven of us girls in a mere 24 hours!  Then, when the one girl had malaria, she stayed by her side for all five days of her hospital visit, buying food and cooking, leaving her 3-year-old daughter in her mother's care.  And the entire time, she wore a beautiful smile.  There are countless stories of these wonderful men and women giving of themselves completely.  If only I could learn to imitate their generous spirit! 
So perhaps we didn't get the chance to evangelize with words as some of us would have liked.  Perhaps our contribution to the church structure was meager.  Regardless of any disappointments or troubles we may have met along the way, both we and the villagers have benefited greatly from our time with them.
And God, I'm going to miss those kids.