2019 Spring

The small boy hurried along the trail, holding the hands of his two smaller brother and sister. The night was dark. The small boy wanted to cry but held it in. He was used to that feeling. He didn’t want to look weak when they all needed to act strong. The trail was longer in the dark. They could all imagine scary beings along the way. Somewhere on the trail up ahead they hoped to find the house that was really a tar paper shack. They couldn’t go back, it wasn’t safe. The hunger they felt kept them going. Later, much later they saw the outline of the place they hoped would welcome them in. This boy is now in his middle forty’s and is a school bus driver. He brings children to us that need our help. The Navajo lady sat before me. We knew each other since she was eight years old. She and I are both grandmothers now. I saw her she said with a faraway look on her face. She repeated it again, I did, I really saw her. This morning I was outside, and something caught my eye. It was a small Eagle sitting on a pole. I looked at it and it looked back at me. I didn’t move and it didn’t move. We just looked at each other for the longest time. Then I remembered, I felt tears in my eyes. Today makes ten years ago that my baby girl passed away. I know this is her way to let me know she is OK. Us Navajos she continued believe when we lose a loved one, they return to us in the form of an animal. An hour later the mother let out a sigh of relief and held out her hands. Please she asked, make me a prayer. I share these two stories with you because we need your continued prayers for wisdom as we go forward with the many needs among the Navajo people. The children on the reservation don’t like it when school is out. They say no School means no Food. So again, this summer we ask you to remember us with your gifts that will help our families on the Indian reservation. One of the greatest needs is water. When you help and send, we haul and go. Please keep us on the trails this summer and go with us and hold our hands in prayer.

Sylvia Webb