Dearest Rachel –
Most of the time, dreams come to one more or less unbidden; none of us can say what may have prompted them, if anything. Last night’s, however, may well have been birthed by a letter I received, and promptly discarded.
Not that it was telling me to go back and retrieve the letter so I could act upon it.
You might recall (or not; it wasn’t something I used much outside of my workplace) that for a rather long period of time, I’ve been registered as a notary public. There were many cases where some executive or another had to sign off on some government document of behalf of the company, and I was the one to bring it to him, and then sign and stamp it as an official witness, verifying in my capacity that said executive was who they said they were and held the position they claimed to, and therefore, had the authority to sign this document in the company’s name. Fairly routine administrative stuff, really, as required by law for this or that document.
In fact, I’m still registered, having just renewed my license shortly before your mom’s passing. Which means, it’s just about to expire within the next month or two. So I’ve been getting the occasional letter from one or another company offering to assist me in the process of renewing my license, so that I can continue to perform my duties as a notary. All of which would be understandable if I was still employed there; but with her passing, you offered me the opportunity to drop out of that toxic work environment (granted, there was but one factor rendering it so, but that was sufficient), and as such, my license was no longer necessary. Sure, we needed a notary to sign off on various documents regarding her estate, but it’s not like I could notarize my own signature. I’m not even sure if I could have notarized your signature, even though the boilerplate affirmation attached to the notary’s portion of any such document is meant to assure those who read it that “[the signatory] is known unto me,” and who would I know better than my wife?
But that’s neither here nor there, at this point. The thing is, I’ve been throwing out all these offers to renew my license. Not that it would be a great expense, to be sure, but it’s more or less pointless. For all that I’ve put that stamp to use since receiving it, I’ve no need for it anymore.
But maybe there’s this little piece in the back of my mind that misses taking documents to an executive’s office, and chatting with them as they sign them, and I sign and stamp them in turn, and it cooked up a particularly ridiculous scenario…
You are familiar with the story of Jim Elliot and what was referred to at the time as ‘Operation Auca’; among your effects Jan and I found while rummaging through the basement was a DVD of the movie End of the Spear, documenting the doomed missionary effort, focusing on the pilot, Nate Saint. To be honest, I suspect I would have had more familiarity with the subject matter, having grown up with the story (several, if not all, of the group, were peers of my uncle when he attended Wheaton College, and their biographies were made into radio dramas on Moody radio, which I used to listen to as a kid). Be that as it may, it’s possible (given the vast number of folks where you are) that you’ve had the chance to meet them since.
In any event, for whatever reason (this is where the dream logic kicks in), I was bringing some sort of proclamation honoring these men, and their wives that stayed behind to continue to minister and witness to the Huaorani people after their husbands were killed, to the President for his signature. This makes little sense for a variety of reasons. True, people receive posthumous honors from the government, but mostly due to service for the government, particularly military service. Second, one of the points of bestowing these honors is so their families understand the respect the government has for their loved one’s service – Elizabeth Elliot beat you to where you are by five and a half years, so there would be no telling her of the government’s decision to memorialize her husband for his sacrifice.
Finally, this whole scenario just doesn’t seem to fit with the current zeitgeist. The reaction to the five missionaries killed in Ecuador at worst was a thought along the lines of ‘what a tragic waste of life and education,’ although respect was granted to the wives for staying on an making an impact. Contrast that to the fate of John Allen Chau, who made an attempt in late 2018 to reach the Sentinelese, living in similar conditions on their namesake island off the coast of India – and suffered a similar fate, and actually quicker and with less followup. From what I could tell, the reaction to his efforts and subsequent death were along the lines of ‘well, he knew what he was getting into, and he might have introduced modern pathogens to those poor people… what an idiot.’ With that in mind, the idea of any honors being bestowed upon Elliot and his group seem as remote in modern times as any going to Chau.
Regardless, however, the President seemed more than enthusiastic about signing the proclamation (also weird because he makes a big deal about being a devout Catholic, and Elliot’s team were decidedly Protestant). In fact, while signing it (with these huge loops that made him look as if he were a toddler coloring the leather-bound book the proclamation came in), it was mentioned to him that the wives had stayed behind to continue their husbands’ work with the Huaorani. To this, he responded with something approaching shock:
“You mean, they’re still down there? We’ve got to do something about that! Get them the ––– out of there! Send the military, if you have to!”
Again, very unlike our current chief executive – really, more like Governor William J. LePetomaine (who might do a better job, but let’s table that discussion), apart from the profanity, which is all too characteristic – but a noble, if utterly misplaced, reaction nonetheless. I don’t know if it was me or someone else, but it was explained to him that they had long since left the region after completing their mission (so to speak), and made it safely home (which you can confirm in a metaphorical sense).
So, that was last night’s dream. If you have the chance – and you can find them amid the crowd up there – say hi to everyone I’ve named here. Beyond that, I’ll just ask you to keep an eye on me and Daniel, and wish us luck. I suspect we’re both going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 