In This Place
Описание книги
In 1985 Kim Abernethy, along with her husband, Jeff, followed a call from God to minister in the small West African country of Liberia.<br><br>She writes of the fall of one of her daughters from a two-story building, shares candid emotions from when her husband had a close call with Lassa Fever, and delightfully chronicles many of her husband's adventures of being a bush pilot in the jungle of Liberia.<br><br>Whether you are intrigued by the stories of foreign missionaries and how they adapt to a new culture or are heading towards the mission ï¬?eld yourself, you will ï¬?nd this book enlightening and inspiring.<br><br>Inside you will ï¬?nd disbelief, tragedy, fear, anxiety, discontentment, and confusion, but there is also humor, delight, amazement, wonder, surrender, and a deep-seated joy as you watch how God – little by little – chipped away at the walls of pride, disbelief, stubbornness, and independence that had held Kim captive.<br><br>It is an irresistible story of an infallible God proving Himself more than enough in every fathomable circumstance. IN THIS PLACE is the ï¬?rst of two books that record the ï¬?rst eighteen years of the Abernethy's unsettled, but yet fulï¬?lling missionary career.<br><br>Gleaning stories and adventures from journals that she kept since December, 1985, IN THIS PLACE is autobiographical and concentrates mainly on their ï¬?rst four years in Liberia. She is working on completing her second book, IN EVERY PLACE, which continues the Abernethy's missionary adventures from 1990 – 2002.<br><br>IN EVERY PLACE is expected to be published by in late fall of 2011.
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Early in 1987 the calling to write this story began deep in my heart. God had given me a desire to keep rather detailed journals of our cultural adaptations and the emotions behind the challenging times we experienced when first arriving in Liberia! The journals were initially written out of a desire to share these experiences with our family. Although most of my journals were either handwritten or typed on an old Selectric II typewriter, I am forever grateful that I committed to document our first years as missionaries in West Africa.
I am even more grateful for my mother and father who kept those journals in a file. About ten years ago, my mother handed me a thick manila folder stuffed with various sized papers. “These are for when you write your book,” she said as she handed them to me. “I know you will write one day about all that God has shown you in Africa. These should help.” Stunned they really had kept all my African journals, the seed to write grew into a plant shuttering with potential.
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After four days in Liberia, we were beginning to really sense some of the bolder variations between America and Liberia and were thankful for veteran missionaries who cared enough to take the time for us, to remember what their first days in Liberia had been like, and never tired of answering our questions. To the small city, there was an organized chaos, an endless stream of people walking somewhere, small children scantily clothed playing in mud puddles as their mothers bartered their wares on the side of any given road, uncommon smells that both intrigued and perturbed me, the incessant blaring of horns and strange sounding words being spoken all around.
Our first Tuesday in the country, I went with Roxie Dickinson, the business manager’s wife, on a shopping extravaganza to Monrovia’s Waterside district. Waterside was the name given to the endless wooden stalls piled high with everything from plastic containers, dishes, cups, aluminum ware, cloth, food that looked strange to me, and almost anything else you could imagine. It was an open-air department store by the water. Street after street was packed with honking taxis, Liberians on foot doing their daily chores, garbage and human waste intermingled with street dirt and decay and the heat. The humid wave never retreated. However, Roxie walked bravely and confidently ahead, looking for a particular type of cloth she needed to make a dress for one of her daughters.
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