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Note from Helen: I am proud to introduce my grand niece, Jennifer (Amy Jo), age 16, as the author of this story. Amy Jo is the granddaughter of my sister, Clara MacGowan and her husband, Stanley.
Although we go through hard times and struggles, and sometimes we don't think there is any way out, the Lord will come in His timing. He is with you throughout your life. He defeats the whispers of death in your life, and all it takes is your faith
The African sunset began to fade. Everything was pleasant, until my eyes caught the wicked and gray clouds heading our way. Faint whispers of death filled my ears and mind. My hands trembled and my hopes waned, crushed under the weight of unchangeable circumstance. I glanced quickly over at the three children. Jonathan and Amy, our two, and the young native boy, huddled quietly in the fading light. Fear consumed me, but the Lord’s presence was even more powerful.
Agony burning within me, I looked into my husband's eyes, dark and troubled, like storm clouds on a rainy day, but he gave me the assurance that everything was in the Lord's hands. To me, Stanley, having just recovered from his first bout with malaria, looked weak and exhausted. Sunken eyes and ashen face made him appear emaciated; still, he gave me faith and encouragement.
We sat quietly together in the 71/2 hp motor boat, puttering away in the Casamance River. I couldn't help but think it seemed more like a swamp. A thick layer of green slime lay on top of the crocodile-infested marsh. The high pitched whine of mosquitoes filled the silence, broken only by a tell-tale “slap” every few seconds, and by the sound of crickets echoing from the forest, as well as the flapping of wings of birds, nestling in for the night.
I felt trapped in this swamp, not only by the crocodiles, which slid silently along, but also by the mangroves. Their branches dipped down into the water, becoming roots, and producing other mangroves, endlessly-creating an eerie, tangled mess you couldn't attempt to pass through!
Suddenly our motor began to make an unpleasant sound, causing the three children quickly to cover their ears. We all turned to the motor. Stanley stood to take charge. He grabbed the extra bottle of gas he always kept when we traveled. To save some time because the storm was rolling in so quickly, he began to pour gas into the motor while the engine was running.
"Jesus help us!" Stanley prayed as flames ignited. Immediately he grabbed a cloth, smothering the flames. Breathlessly, I thanked the Lord that my husband was not harmed. The boat's motor, however, was not going to get us home that night.
There was no point in racing the storm, which obviously was going to settle in shortly. Stanley took the paddles, fiercely paddling, aiming for the tangled shores. Our young native companion offered to help, but the boy was not quite strong enough to paddle a heavy, log dug-out, carrying five people.
Thunder rolled and cackled in the distance only a few miles away. The rain pelted down, just as darkness hid everything from view. Frequent flashes of lightning lit up the mangrove wall, giving us a creepy feeling. We gazed at the mangroves, knowing that their great roots were home to the crocodiles, and many other native reptiles we'd rather not meet.
Waves came crashing into us. Our flimsy canoe rocked back and forth, taking in several inches of water to accompany its five passengers. Water, pouring down and heaving up, seemed everywhere.
Our eyes strained endlessly for an open area where we could get through the mangroves, to shore. We needed to find something quickly that would lead us to the dry land. Somehow, seemingly without much difficulty, Stanley wove around the mangroves. The children were frightened by something they saw, swimming around the boat. I held my two children and the young native companion in my arms, patting each one on the back, giving them some comfort. My mother-heart wanted to say that everything would be all right, but even I was disturbed about the possibilities of what might happen. Would my darlings live through the night?
The thought wouldn't leave me. It seemed that I had no faith left. All that surrounded me filled me with sorrow. I closed my eyes and tried not to focus on the horror of what could happen to us. The words from a familiar passage of Scripture from Mark 10:27 came into my mind. I knew the Lord would give me the faith I needed. He would not be disappointed in me by my coming to Him. After all, didn't Stanley and I come to West Africa to be missionaries for Christ? We've been preaching the Gospel, but now it's time to live it, even in the most difficult of times.
After saying the prayer, “With God all things are possible,” over and over, I opened my eyes. Stanley had maneuvered his way through the mangroves and was inches away from the shore. “Oh, thank You, Lord. “ I began to cry tears of laughter.
We found shelter for the remainder of the night. After a hard night without much comfort, we headed for home. The Lord had led us to a cave just a little way from the Casamance River. Although I knew approximately where we had docked that night, our family searched for a cleared out area of mangroves but could never find it. We knew that it had to be the Lord!
And now, every time I pass that location, I am reminded of the prayer that I rehearsed in my head that night. With thankfulness, I would whisper it while passing: Mark 10:27 "With men it is impossible, but not with God: for with God all things are possible."
Although we go through hard times and struggles, and we sometimes don't think there is any way out, the Lord will come in His own time. He endures throughout your life. He defeats the whispers of death in your life, and all it takes is your faith.
As told by Clara Splane-MacGowan, to Amy-Jo Millar, age 16 (Clara’s granddaughter.)
Note from Helen: Clara and Stanley MacGowan were missionaries in Senegal, West Africa, where they spent ten years of their life, and where three of their four children were born. Their second child, Amy, is the mother of Amy-Jo (Jennifer).
Clara and Stanley were killed in a car accident in 1975, in Ontario, as they were on their way to a prayer meeting. But their testimony lives on in their children and their grandchildren.
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