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Letter 8 - November 4, 1901

Letter 8 - November 4, 1901

Nabumali Mission Station, Bugisu To her sister Margaret, Yorkshire

My dearest Maggie,

It’s just past sunset here, and the hills are wrapped in that usual soft mist that makes everything seem both distant and near. William has gone to teach in Busiu, and Mary has finally fallen asleep after a lingering cough kept her up half the night. I have a quiet moment to write, and I want to tell you about something that has been stirring in me these last few days.

We have been working on translating the Scriptures - not just reading them, but finding words that speak truly to the hearts here. And oh Maggie, it’s no easy thing.

The people here are well acquainted with spirits. They speak of them often - spirits in the caves, spirits in the rivers, spirits that whisper at night. But when I tried to explain about the Holy Spirit, they looked at me with eyes full of confusion and fear. William worked with the elders a few months ago to translate the Holy Spirit, but it is still difficult for many to understand Him.

One little girl, Nafula, asked me quietly after class:

“Mama Etel, is your Holy Spirit like the one that makes people sick?”

I sat down beside her, took her hand, and said,

“No, love. The Omwoyo Omutukuvu is different. He brings peace, not fear. He protects, not harms. He speaks only truth.”

We practiced saying it in Lumasaba together - Omwoyo… Omutukuvu - and I told her how Jesus called Him the Helper, the one who would never leave us.

It reminded me of John 14:26:

“The Helper, the Holy Spirit… will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.”

Nafula smiled, and whispered, “Then maybe I will not be afraid tonight.”

Maggie, that is what we are here for. Not just to teach from books - but to help them sleep without fear, to walk without dread, and to know they are not alone.

The sun is nearly gone now, and the frogs have begun their usual concert. I hear Mary turning in her sleep, and I must go.

Pray for us - for the words we choose, and for the hearts that will hear them.

All my love,
Ethel

  • Letter 8 - November 4, 1901
  • Part 2: The Letters of Mrs. Ethel Bronwen Crabtree

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