Last day in Bissil

Music by: John Mark McMillian, "I Dreamed There Was a Fountain"

From the CD, "I Dreamed There Was a Fountain"

Music by: Molly Williams "Lay Your Head Down",

from the CD "I Dreamed There Was a Fountain"

It had rained.

I go back in my room and sit on my bed. Face in hands, I start to cry.

I don't take lightly what had happened the night before.

I analyze, question, feel unsure of myself... "LORD, I do not want to give a false word!"

He confirmed to me several times that it was a word I was supposed to speak.

But then, it rained.

How could I question that?

I felt relief.

It was to be our last morning in Bissil. We were scheduled to have a private women's meeting, for the women of the little tent church. Then we would say quick goodbyes and head back toward Nairobi, to Ngong where we would have an outdoor revival that night.

I sort through my clothes, trying to choose the ones with the least amount of dust. They are all dirty with the exception of my pajama pants, so I keep them on and throw a dress over the top. Face it, I was wearing socks with sandals, I was beyond caring about fashion. I do, however, carefully put my sash from Pastor Simon over my neck.

I head to breakfast and find Papa Samson waiting for us. He hugs me.

Maasai men do not show affection. Papa Samson is a trailblazer.

"Good morning, Papa." I say.

He nods and sits down.

The room is silent. We all look at Papa Samson, waiting.

He starts to speak, but gets caught by his tears. He covers his face, contorted from this unfamiliar burst of emotion, and rushes outside.

"Ohhhh, to see a Maasai man cry... " Nelly goes into a lengthy explanation of why this doesn't happen. We all put our heads down and eat, knowing it to be true.

Barnabas picks us up and we head to the church to meet with the women.

We are told that the women desperately need and want the meeting, but many of them will not be able to attend. It is Saturday, a day when the women take buses, walk or hitch a ride, to see their children in boarding school.

Sometimes, hours away.

They have no choice.

There is no school in Bissil.

We arrive to find 3 beautiful, traditional Maasai women, sitting in the tent.

As I stand waiting for the rest of the women, one of the 3 wraps her hands around my sash.

She fingers it carefully, looking closely at the beads.

She meets my eyes and smiles. She points to the sash and then to herself.

I say, "Oh, did you make this?"

Joseph steps in and says, "Yes, this is Pastor Simon's mother. She made that for him."

I look at her and tell her how important this gift is to me, how I understand it's significance.

I cannot tell if she smiles with pride at my compliments, or the fact that her son gave me such a gift. Pastor Simon, like Papa Samson, is also trailblazer.

Woman in the center is Pastor Simon's mother

I am completely wrung out from the night before. We all are, but Wanda has an amazing ability to shake it off, stand up and preach. I think she could preach in her sleep, it just flows out of her.

She had told us that she was preaching from the Song of Solomon. "I know I may be walking a slippery slope..." she says, "but they need to hear this."

There are 2 or 3 men in the meeting. I wonder what their response will be.

I look up to see Margaret at the door of the tent. She is motioning for me to come outside.

I go.

"I am very sorry, but I must catch the bus. I have a very long ride and if I do not hurry, I will not be able to see my eldest daughter." Her eyes well up with tears.

"I understand. Please, GO!" I say.

"I brought you something."

She reaches in her bag and pulls out another sash. She puts it over my opposite shoulder.

It has a different medallion than the my first one and it occurs to me that it is for a woman.

"This is for a Maasai woman who has killed a lion."

I am completely speechless, only capable of nodding my head.

Then she hands me a bag and opening it says, "And I want you to have these... it isn't much, it is just all I have."

I suck in my breath as I see that she has given me her shoes.

They are leather sandals that have beads sewn on to the straps.

The heal is uneven from her walk, the impressions of her toes, permanently imprinted on the leather. I want to argue but know that it would insult her more than anything. How can I take this women's shoes?

We hold each other. She is strong and quiet. Stoic.

She kisses my cheek and turns to go.

I stop her.

"Please, we need to have a picture of us together."

Contrast

I wake to the sound of Leon stomping his feet outside.

I jump out of bed, sure that I had overslept.

Stumpling around, I find my key and open the door.

Leon turns, still stomping his feet...

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"I have mud on my feet...  it rained."

I look past him to the ground.

"What?"

Wanda shouts from her room.  "RHEBA!  IT RAINED RHEBA, do you HEAR ME?  Rheba?  IT RAINED!" 

Music by:  John Mark McMillian, "I Dreamed There Was a Fountain"

                   Molly Williams, "Lay Your Head Down"

Both titles from the CD, "I Dreamed There Was a Fountain"

buildings in Bissil  

(taken in a moving car...)

Market day in Bissil

Market day

Maasai women

Sermon

Irene and her husband, Pastor Simon

Pastor Simon and his daughter, Deborah

"I have ached for Africa for as long as I remember. I believe God was whispering in my ear, even in my mother's womb...."

"Africa.... Africa.... Africa...."

I stand, looking at the congregation. How did I get here? What had shifted to make this dream, reality? It was like being transferred into another realm, unknown, but familiar.

I explain why I carry my camera everywhere.

"When I was a very little girl, I would watch the TV... I would look at magazines or newspapers. I would see the photographs that had been taken of starving children in Africa. Their belly's round with starvation. Flies making themselves at home on their bodies. Their eyes staring into the camera, desperate. I would see pictures of mothers holding their babies, limp and lifeless....

Somebody took those photographs. I looked at them and was moved. I was moved enough to want to come here... To want to do something. I carry this camera so that maybe, just maybe, one of my photographs will move someone else to want to come here and help you."

I continue.

"For many years, my heart has ached to bring water to Africa. I came, not knowing you had no water. I came not knowing the state of your land.

My first night here, I told your brother, Samson, I want to learn Swahili and Maasai. He told me he would teach me. That night, God spoke to me as I was falling asleep...."

"MUNGO TOSHA."

"God. Is. Enough."

Hoots. Hollering. Clapping, stomping....

"God is enough", I repeat.

"I don't know Swahili. He spoke to me in Swahili! Who am I? I'm just a girl who aches for you... for your land, for your people.

I went to bed very late last night. I was asleep for about 20 minutes when God awakened me."

"Isaiah 35", He said.

"Let me read this to you.

Isaiah 35.

The Desert and the parched land..."

I read each line. My interpreter following from the Maasai Bible.

"'the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
Like the crocus,

² it will burst into bloom;
it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy.

The glory of Lebanon will be given to it,
the splendor of Carmel and Sharon;

they will see the glory of the LORD,
the splendor of our God.

³ Strengthen the feeble hands,
steady the knees that give way;

⁴ say to those with fearful hearts,
"Be strong, do not fear;
your God will come,
he will come with vengeance;
with divine retribution
he will come to save you."

⁵ Then will the eyes of the blind be opened
and the ears of the deaf unstopped.

⁶ Then will the lame leap like a deer,
and the mute tongue shout for joy.
Water will gush forth in the wilderness
and streams in the desert.

⁷ The burning sand will become a pool,
the thirsty ground bubbling springs.
In the haunts where jackals once lay,
grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.

⁸ And a highway will be there;
it will be called the Way of Holiness.
The unclean will not journey on it;
it will be for those who walk in that Way;
wicked fools will not go about on it.

⁹ No lion will be there,
nor will any ferocious beast get up on it;
they will not be found there.
But only the redeemed will walk there,

¹⁰ and the ransomed of the LORD will return.
They will enter Zion with singing;
everlasting joy will crown their heads.
Gladness and joy will overtake them,
and sorrow and sighing will flee away.'

I see people on the floor. I hear weeping. My legs are quaking in the heaviness of God. I can barely stand and am thankful to have a pulpit to hold on to.

"God gave me this word for you in the night. He told me what to say.

All night He spoke to me.

Then, around 6am, I finally fell asleep. I had a dream.

In this dream, I saw a wall of water coming from the west.

This wall, the rain, was swooping in, fast.

I started to pray in my dream, excited, knowing the rain was going to restore the land.

I prayed so loudly that I woke myself up, sure that I had woken up my friends.

I listened, sure that they would come to see why I was yelling. Nobody came. They hadn't heard me.

I fell back asleep. Instantly, I was taken back into the dream, only this time, I was walking down a dirt road, arm and arm with sister Nelly.

We were out for a stroll.

We rounded the corner, and were stopped in the middle of the road.

Wildebeests were stampeding across the road.

Elephants, giraffes... they were all rushing back to the land.

They were coming back.

There was green grass again for them to graze, water for them to drink.

In my dream, your land had come back to life. The drought was over. The animals had returned.

God speaks to me through dreams. He WILL restore your land. Your people."

I tell them about the banners. I show them the water banner and explain how I came to make it.

"God told me to wave this banner. I will wave it and you may worship, pray, sing, whatever you feel led to do. When I am done, I will give this water banner to Pastor Simon."

I look at Pastor Simon. He nods, tears coming down his face.

"Pastor Simon, I want you to take this banner and wave it in your church. I want you to go to your wells and riverbeds and wave this banner. I want you to proclaim rain over your land. I want you to take this banner with you to the interior churches. Wave it there and proclaim rain. Allow the Pastors of those churches to wave it."

The musician starts playing his keyboard.

I take a deep breath.

"wait...

After I wave this banner, God asked me to do something that is very hard for me. Something that makes me uncomfortable. I do not want to be disobedient. I hope you all will allow me to do it"

I look at the goat poo covering the floor and try to think of ways to get around what I am supposed to do. I see the men and women on the ground, faces pressed into the earth. Hands and arms outstretched in front of them, they lay, weeping. I am ashamed to have worried about poo.

"I have this anointing oil. God told me to anoint each of your feet before you leave here tonight. Men, women, children... all of you."

I can barely breath.

I lift the banner as the music starts to play again.

I turn and see Pastor Simon's wife, Irene. I grab her hand and give her the resurrection banner.

We stand hand and hand, waving water and resurrection over the people of the church.

I whisper in her ear.

"This is a resurrection banner. Go with your husband and wave this when he waves the water banner. God wants to resurrect this land. He wants to see life here again. He wants your people to come back."

At the time, I didn't recognize what I had done. I didn't see that by asking her to wave the banner with her husband, there would be an atmospheric shift and a proclamation of unity.

I hand Pastor Simon the water banner. Oil in hand, I anoint feet, ankles, shoes. Wanda asks if she can help. In my haze, I look at her and nod. I am so outside of myself in this moment that I don't realize I have excluded my team.

The dust seems to have taken a permanent position on my body. I feel a bit like Pig-Pen from Charlie Brown... a cloud of dust chasing after me wherever I move.

I sit back down, satisfied that I have not missed any feet. I see Pastor Simon in the back, waving the banner, totally engrossed in God.

Bishop Osai stands and thanks us for coming.

He tells me I remind him of TD Jakes.

What?

He follows it by saying that TD Jakes had come a few years before with a similar message.

(phew. I mean, I love TD Jakes, but I don't know if I want to LOOK like him!)

Then he asks the congregation to come and bring us offerings.

"Whatever you have.", he says.

Pastor Simon stands and places a long, beaded sash around my neck. It is worn like a beauty pageant sash. I know this is a big gift.

I watch as people come and adorn us.

I start to cry as I see an older, traditional Maasai woman, crown Eilene with thick chain of beads.

I put my head on her shoulder and say,

"Eilene, you are being adorned like a queen. This is what I saw the first day I met you!"

"This is what you saw..." she says.

We are both sniffling.

We get up to leave and I say to someone,

"What does this necklace mean?"

"Oh, that? That is the highest decoration you can receive."

"What? Really?"

"Only Maasai warriors who have killed a lion receive this. Only men."

side note:

(Pastor Simon is the Pastor of the little tent church. Bishop Osai is over all the churches in the area.)

Market day

Maasai market in Bissil

If you look closely, you can see the traditional Maasai man. They are the ones wearing short "skirts". The women here only wear full length skirts.

My exhaustion has crept along at a steady pace. The hazy disconnected feeling becoming unbearable, I pass on lunch, hoping to close my eyes for a moment before our afternoon session. Curling up on the bed, my eyes covered by my hair, I think of my mom and how I have seen her sleep this way. I haven't been able to reach any of my family.

"Rheba, it's time to go!"

I wonder how the lunch hour went by so quickly as we head back to the little tent church.

Ilene is now pumped up. Refreshed and excited.

She stands and tells the congregation,

"I came here thinking I was going to pray for the sick. What happened? I had to come all the way to Africa just to get healed."

She proceeds to tell them about her kidneys and all she had been through to get to Kenya.

Then she tells them about the Pastor's meeting and how we all prayed for her and her kidneys were healed. I felt like I was watching Eilene come alive for the first time on the trip. She was on fire. Her deep southern drawl adding emphasis to everything she said.

"I felt my kidneys get all hot and start to move! God can heal you!"

At the end of the meeting we began to pray for people. Almost the entire congregation came forward. I closed my eyes and just tried to hear God. I touched hands, hugged, kissed, cried and sometimes just prayed silently. I looked up and saw a woman waiting for me. She had a rash over her whole face. She would not take her eyes from me.

An old woman, traditional in her dress, stood before me. I instantly put my hands on her face and softly covered her eyes. The thick smell of charcoal was surrounding her. Later, I would see that my hands and cheeks were smudged with charcoal residue.

I asked her if she was blind.

There was no response.

I motioned for the woman behind her to come forward.

"Do you know, is she blind?"

She shrugged and asked the question in Maasai.

"Yes mum, she is blind."

I prayed.

I continued to pray until I heard Nelly ending the meeting.

I looked up to see the girl with the rash turn and go. I wanted to chase after her, but she was gone before I could plow my way through the people.

It was market day in Bissil. Everyone was out. Vendors staked claim on various plots of dirt, throwing down a blanket and topping it with their wares.

I walked out of the tent to see the vibrant spread of people, smells... color.

Instantly, the opportunity to meander through the chaos overtook my desire to sleep.

"Oh, NELLY! Will you bring me to the market?" I stifle the, 'can we, can we?'

We dropped the others back at their rooms and Nelly, Samson and I headed to the market.

I tell Nelly that I really want to find some fabric to take back and maybe she could negotiate for me.

Instead, she takes me down an alley and through a corrugated tin gate.

"I want you to see Purity's house first."

Purity is a member of the congregation. She has big ringlets that remind me of my daughter, Olivia, and a bright, beaded dress. Nelly tells me that she has 7 or 8 grandchildren and that her husband is dead. Purity looks 40, maybe even younger.

Her house is built of corrugated tin. There are 3 couches, a chair and an entertainment center. She has a variety of rugs and tables covering the floor, so I can't tell if it is packed dirt or concrete. No kitchen, just a sheet covering the doorway to her bedroom.

Purity has tea that is prepared, so I realize I have been expected. I sit, dazed, knowing I should accept the tea, but saying no instead. Nelly asks me to pray. I obey, but am unsure what I am supposed to be praying for. As we stand to leave, a few of the Pastors walk in. They too, knew I would be there. They converse in Maasai. I look back and forth wondering what will come next.

Samson, Nelly and Purity

Nelly informs me that many of the Pastors have to leave to go back to the interior and they want me to pray for them. A total of about 10 Pastors have found their way into Purity's home. They sit and look at me expectantly. I think of how strange it is that I am standing before these leaders and they are looking to... me.

I am humbled and tell them through tears about God speaking to me in the night. I tell them how I was to anoint the feet of everyone in the church and since they would not be there, would they allow me to do it now. Nobody speaks.

They look at each other, bend down and unlace their shoes. There feet, dusty and worn.

Dry.

I go from foot to foot and pray as I anoint each Pastor.

Some have their hands clasped, heads bowed. Others stare straight into my eyes as I come to them, their glare, piercing.

The room, silent.

Nelly stands and motions for me to come.

The sunlight and sounds of the market, pull me back to the street.

I dodge piles of poo, urine and garbage, looking at the sandals made from tire treads. Fabric thrown over ropes, strung, tree to tree. Clothing, beads, fruit and vegetables have been brought in to sell.

There is a circle of Maasai men. They are huddled like football players. I ask Nelly why.

"This is the way they speak to each other. They are just having conversation."

I desperately want a picture, but the spears in hand dissuade me.

I find some beautiful fabric and ask Nelly to inquire about.

She speaks to the vendor and all but spits in disgust as she pulls me away.

"They see this skin" she says as she touches my arm.

"They try to take advantage."

I nod, sure that their price is still lower than I would pay in the US.

We are approached by a tall man. He runs up shouting, "I've been HEALED! I've been HEALED!"

He had been standing at the back in church as everyone had gotten prayer, too shy to come forward. Nelly had seen him and called him forward saying that she thought something was wrong with his shoulder. He had not been able to use his arm because of excruciating pain, so we prayed for him.

He keeps touching me. "it's better, see?"

"YES!" I say, watching him rotate his shoulder.

"You are very pretty."

Ummmm.... "thanks".

"very, very beautiful."

"Yes, my husband thinks so too."

I wonder if I am going to have to borrow one of the Maasai spears.

He proceeds to follow us through the market, jumping up and down, excited to repeat that he is healed.

I think of the blind woman. Can she now see?

Pastor's meeting

Some of the Pastors

"I have something too," Wanda says, "but it's a rebuke."

I look at her and nod, "good.".

We are scheduled to have a meeting with all the Pastors from the "interior".

Maasailand is so vast, that the people refer to the most remote locations, deep in the bush, as the "interior". Nelly accompanies us to the meeting, where we are ushered in through the small door of the rented church office. The room is about 15 feet long and 1o feet wide. Along one wall, are all the chairs for church, stacked and ready, but taking up valuable space in the small office. There is a desk and a window and of course, pictures of Obama, taped to the wall.

As I walk past Joseph, he asks if I slept well.

I reply, "no, but it's okay...".

I find my spot on a bench that hugged the wall and watch as the Pastors start piling in. Chairs are distributed where they can fit, but most of the Pastors are left to stand. I believe there are between 14 and 20, plus Nelly and the 4 of us. We are shoulder to shoulder on the bench, me sitting on only one of the two cheeks I have. The Pastors, most of whom were in the meeting the night before, had varying degrees of expectation. You could see it written on their faces. Some trying to look casual, nonchalant even, but the intensity of their eyes focused on Wanda, giving them away.

Ilene got up and spoke about how the doctors had told her not to come. How she wasn't healthy enough, but that her "physician" was far greater than any physician on earth. She talked about her past. About being healed from addiction and ultimately in how God healed her to be able to come all the way to Africa.

I spoke about my lifelong desire to be in Africa. About the yearning to see this land, even from a very young age. I explained why I had a camera around my neck at all times. How important it was for me to document what I saw.

"I don't take pictures because I am on a vacation, or am a tourist, I take pictures to move people. When someone looks at my photographs, I want them to recognize the crisis you are in. I want them to see your pain."

I tell them how God spoke to me in Swahili the first night I was there.

I remind them, "Mungu Tosha."

They clap and cheer their agreement.

God is enough.

Then I tell them my dream. Just the dream.

One of the Pastor's eyes get big. He watches me. He scrunches up his face, trying not to cry.

They bow their heads, nodding, clapping, agreeing... hoping.

Wanda stands and tells the men that she has a word, but some of them might not like it, but she hopes they can handle it.

"I'm going to talk to you about Daniel and King Nebuchadnezzar again."

She reminds them of Nebuchadnezzar's dream about the tree. How it stretched to the heavens. How the animals of the land found shade beneath it's limbs. The birds, finding nesting places on the branches. About the abundant fruit and beautiful leaves of the tree.

She tells them how big and strong this tree was, how it has dominion across the earth.

Again, the men are starting to shift in their seats. Some lean forward, heads down, others do not take their eyes from Wanda.

She proceeds.

"Daniel tells the King, 'You are the tree...'"

She tells them Daniel's interpretation. That King Nebuchadezzar has "puffed himself up" and will be driven away from his people. How he will live with the beasts and eat grass like cattle.

She tells them that all is not lost. That the stump and roots of the tree are left. That his kingdom will be restored when he acknowledges heaven.

Then she pauses.... "...When you renounce your sin by doing what is right, and your wickedness by being kind to the oppressed. It may be that then your prosperity will continue." (Daniel 4:27, NIV)

Some of the men cry. Some sit back quickly, like they have been slapped.

They got it.

The women and children have been oppressed for so long. How could there be restoration to the land, the people, when this is the case? Here is a woman, delivering this word, her husband sitting beside her, supportive, loving, kind. They see the example.

Joseph stands and tells everyone that he wants to pray for "Mum". Eilene has most affectionately been referred to as mum, by everyone she has met in Africa.

He tells us how God awakened him at 5am and told him that she needed healing of her kidneys.

We all stand in a circle, join hands and pray. Ilene cries.

She tells us later that as we were praying, she could feel her kidney shift and move inside of her. She said she knew God had healed her.

As we leave, I am approached by the man who had been trying not to cry.

"We have the same calling I think," he says.

"I too, have a heart to bring water to this land."

I nod, saying, "I see that from your response... what is your name?"

"Noah." he says.

Noah

The "All Nighter"

"Isaiah 35"

I am so tired.  Only asleep for 30 minutes, surely someone isn't trying to wake me already.

"Isaiah 35"

"but...I'm really tired."

"Isaiah 35"

I am not a person that has memorized scripture.  In fact, the only one I could actually quote you without thinking long and hard is John 3:16. 

About 3 or 4 years ago, I prayed and asked God to help me to know the Word better.  I asked Him to increase my understanding.  He likes to do this by giving me very specific scriptures at the appropriate time.  He captures my attention this way.  By faith, I open the Bible to the scripture I have heard. I never know if I will even find that scripture.  What if there isn't an Isaiah 35?  Maybe it stops at 34...(in this case, I did know there was a 35, but sometimes I don't)

Isaiah 35:

Joy of the Redeemed

 1 The desert and the parched land will be glad; 

       the wilderness will rejoice and blossom. 

       Like the crocus, 2 it will burst into bloom; 

       it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy. 

       The glory of Lebanon will be given to it, 

       the splendor of Carmel and Sharon; 

       they will see the glory of the LORD, 

       the splendor of our God.

 3 Strengthen the feeble hands,
       steady the knees that give way;

 4 say to those with fearful hearts,
       "Be strong, do not fear;
       your God will come,
       he will come with vengeance;
       with divine retribution
       he will come to save you."

 5 Then will the eyes of the blind be opened
       and the ears of the deaf unstopped.

 6 Then will the lame leap like a deer,
       and the mute tongue shout for joy.
       Water will gush forth in the wilderness
       and streams in the desert.

 7 The burning sand will become a pool,
       the thirsty ground bubbling springs.
       In the haunts where jackals once lay,
       grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.

 8 And a highway will be there;
       it will be called the Way of Holiness.
       The unclean will not journey on it;
       it will be for those who walk in that Way;
       wicked fools will not go about on it. 

 9 No lion will be there,
       nor will any ferocious beast get up on it;
       they will not be found there.
       But only the redeemed will walk there,

 10 and the ransomed of the LORD will return.
       They will enter Zion with singing;
       everlasting joy will crown their heads.
       Gladness and joy will overtake them,
       and sorrow and sighing will flee away.

Read it again if you need to.

"The desert and the parched land....

... burst into bloom...

... eyes of the blind will be opened...

... burning sand will become a pool...

... thirsty ground bubbling springs...

... grass and reeds and papyrus will grow..."

I am fully awake now.

"what else God?"

He proceeds to tell me exactly how to deliver my message. 

What to say, when to say it.

Then He adds,

"Once you have given this message, you will wave your banner.  You will praise and worship.  You will anoint the feet of every person in that tent."

"Seriously?"

"These feet walk this land, work this ground, have toiled and labored.  Anoint them.  Bless them.  Unify them."

I am awake all night.  Listening.  Praying.  Excited about this word.  Nervous.  

I don't want to bring false hope.

What if this is me trying to "solve" things?

How could it be?  I don't have a pantry full of canned food like Wanda.  

The birds are twittering outside, happy for morning.  It's 6:00 am and I NEED sleep.

Too tired to turn my light off, I cover my head with the blanket.

Leon is supposed to knock at 7:15 to wake me.

I see the wall of rain swiftly approaching from the mountains on my left.  This wall of water is so thick, I have never seen anything like it.  I start to pray.  The rain is coming. I pray louder, begging it to refresh the land.  I pray so loudly that I wake myself up.  

Sure that I have awakened everyone else, my heart pounding in excitement, I listen for someone to ask if I am okay.  I had to have been screaming, but nobody heard me.

I cannot believe it.  "The rain is coming", I say to myself as I fall right back to sleep.

Instantly, I am taken back, but now I am arm and arm with Nelly.

We are strolling down a dirt road.  Friends, out for a walk.

We round a corner and are stopped in the road.

The wildebeests are rushing back to the land.

The elephants, the zebras... they are all stampeding back to the land they once grazed. Nelly and I celebrate.  I look at her and say, "They have come back.  There is grass again!"

I awaken to the knock on the door.  "Rheba.  It's time to get up."

The land is being restored.  

The rain is coming.

The animals will return.

There will be no more drought.

The famine will end.

My burden for these people is being lifted.  

I walk to the cafeteria.

"I got something", I whisper to Wanda.

"You got something?", she replies.

I nod.