Valle Nuevo, Part III

The directiva met again on Tomasa´s porch. This time, instead of with the lawyer, they were with the Shalom Missional Communities delegation. We all introduced ourselves in Spanish and said a few words. Even the delegation members who spoke no Spanish had had their introduction translated on paper. They spoke them courageously in haulting syllables.

The directiva updated us on the issue of the land. They had decided to go forward without the engineer. They had divided the land up themselves. Still, the process of legalization would take roughly another year, they told us, nodding their heads and rocking quietly in their chairs. They hoped our relationship would continue after the process was through. Of course, we assured them. This was not a project, but a relationship.

Afterwards, we gathered in to pray for Tomasa, who was sick. A few people prayed out loud; I prayed silently as I touched her shoulder lightly. Tomasa began to shake with all the intensity of an earthquake or an army inside her. ¨Gracias a Dios, gracias a Dios.¨She moaned her thanks to God into Nancy´s chest as Nancy tried to hold on to her. Then she fell back into David´s arms, completly limp. He lowered her onto the patio floor. She lay there for a few minutes, on her back, with her knees bent sideways, and her left arm over her forehead.

I stood over her not thinking one thing. In the U.S., I had seen people slain in the Spirit and it always arroused my suspicion or fear. But here, I felt neither of those. It only seemed like one more thing which I couldn´t explain, one more thing that did not need my explanation.