DON’T GIVE UP
My parish is divided into two major zones: Nsawkaw (Twi-speaking) and Banda (Nafana-speaking). After almost two years of organizing them, I was on the verge of giving up on the Banda people. They showed no sign of progress. Sitting under a mango tree, I was about to decide to close down the zone when out of the blue a hen with her chicks appeared from the bush. The hen started scratching on the ground and her chicks rushed but found no food. Then the hen started again … again … and again. Suddenly it dawned on me -- if the hen wasn’t giving up, then why should I? Call it craziness or what, but I literally ran to look for the hen to thank her for enlightening me!
RIDE HOME
After my Sunday Mass in Hani Village, the catechist of the Pentecost church asked me if I could give their stranded pastor a lift. ‘No, problem,’ I readily answered, thinking he was alone. But I was mistaken. His wife and a sheep were also waiting for us. When we arrived at their compound, their children with their dogs and puppies and the women in their community were jumping with joy to see them. I was so impressed. ‘How blessed you are, Pastor! Me, everytime I went home, only Peace, my dog, was jumping.’ May the late Peace rest in peace.
THREE O’CLOCK
Father Martin Moi-Gangi SVD from Papua New Guinea was hospitalized with appendicitis. When I visited him I asked him what time his doctor was coming. ‘At three o’clock in the afternoon,’ he replied. ‘Oh, no, that’s the hour Our Lord died on the cross!’ The Sisters in the room were amused but they also chided me for such an inappropriate comment. Ooopps, not again. Thank you, Sisters, for reminding me.
BIG CHAIR, SMALL CHAIR
I was invited to the inauguration of the Catholic Women Association. I was sitting comfortably on my big chair when the chairwoman arrived. The moment I saw her, I did what any gentleman would do -- I stood up and offered my seat to her, which she gladly accepted. That chair was too big for me anyway.