Ashes and Indians: a Final Journey, Part 1

Not so much for them.  For us. 

This is how we used to travel out to Cóngoma,  the area in the coastal jungle of Ecuador where we lived long ago.  In this picture, Dad holds my younger brother Paul, Mom holds me, and Steve gets the pack-horse.  (Carol didn't exist yet.)

The closest town was Santo Domingo, then a small, end-of-the-line town about a seven-hour drive from the capital.  No major roads led on from there to other parts of the coast.  At first, it would take us two days on horseback from Santo Domingo to our house.  Later we could go by bus for 45 minutes, and then walk in a couple of hours.  Now, it takes less than 45 minutes by car.  (And Santo Domingo is a city, a vital hub, with highways to just about everywhere!)

My parents gave several decades of their lives to the Tsáchila, the indigenous group still sometimes called "Colorado" Indians in Spanish.  After learning their language, Dad worked on translating the New Testament into it, and Mom worked with literacy.  They grew to love the people, and their affection was returned.  We eventually moved out to Santo Domingo, where they would have better access to other groups of Tsáchila.  By the time they left the area many years later, Dad had trained several of them in some translation basics, and helped them translate parts of the Old Testament.  With that training, they could go on to translate other literature into their own language.
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Two years ago, my father passed away at the age of 84, and I'm sure he had a joyful reunion with some of the Tsáchila  who had learned of Jesus through his ministry, and followed Him.  A year ago, my mother went to join him in Heaven, at almost 84.  For both of them, their specific request had been for their bodies to be cremated.  And their ashes? Take them back out to Cóngoma, back to the place where they began their journey of service so many, many years ago, and scatter them over the place where they had lived and loved, wept and laughed...with their children and with the Indians.

In a few days, my siblings (and spouses) will be arriving here in Quito from the U.S.  The following day we will all leave for Santo Domingo (on a paved road that takes about three hours, rather than seven), and the day after that, drive out to Cóngoma, where the Tsachi believers will join us in a simple ceremony honoring Mom and Dad.  This will give them the opportunity to "say goodbye", and us to have a final journey home with them (well, with their ashes!), a final tribute to these two incredible people and the legacy they left...a closing of the circle.


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I will be writing about this event, and hopefully have pictures to show you in the next posts.  
                       

We have the comfort of God's words when He said, " I will be a Father to you, and you will be my sons and my daughters, says the Lord Almighty."  (II Corinthians 6:18)

If we honor our earthly parents, how much more our heavenly Father?  "Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever.  Amen."  (I Timothy 1:17)  
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P.S.  If you want to see the Tsáchila's native dress, go to our Facebook page and see our cover photo.