Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Success and Heartbreak
Betty and Jim began to pray about the situation. They were sure that they were supposed to be married and to work together in the Oriente, but how could that happen now that Betty had tuberculosis? Then, a week after receiving the initial diagnosis, Betty received some great news. No one knew why, but more X-rays showed no TB damage at all to her lungs. Betty wondered—had the first X-ray belonged to someone else, or had God healed her that week? Whatever the case, she was delighted with the outcome.
With a light heart, Betty returned to San Miguel de los Colorados. She was healthy and engaged to Jim. And one day, she hoped not too far in the future, she would be Mrs. James Elliot.
In the meantime, Betty determined to find some way to continue her linguistic work. This was not easy. Now she had to go out to the Colorados in their own homes. The people lived scattered throughout the jungle and spent much of their time either hunting or planting crops away from their houses. More often than not, no one was home when Betty visited. And if someone was home, it was difficult for Betty to communicate her reason for coming. Despite this difficulty, Betty continued to make progress understanding Tsahfihki, jealously guarding every word or phrase that came her way.
It took five more months, but on June 16, 1953, Betty put the finishing touches on the alphabet for the Tsahfihki language. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had forged the first link in the chain that would eventually lead to a translation of the Bible in the language of the Colorados.
Betty now felt sure that it was time for her to move on. The Conns, a missionary family serving with the Christian and Missionary Alliance at Dos Rios in the Oriente, offered her room and board while she learned the Quichua language. Betty eagerly accepted the invitation.
The Conns lived in a delightful spot on the Mishahualli River. A sandy path lined with citrus trees led from the beach on the river to the house set on a hillside overlooking the water. Betty smiled when she saw the clean, white clapboard house with its screened windows. No more bats flying around her room at night!
The Conns were a hospitable family. Everyone knew that Betty wanted to learn Quichua as fast as possible so that she could get married, and Carol Conn spent hours helping her. Betty also enlisted the aid of the kitchen helper and anyone else around who was patient enough to explain the language to her. She made good progress, relieved at how much easier it was to learn a language when others were around to answer questions.
Betty prayed that Doreen, Barbara, and Dorothy back in San Miguel would find small ways to keep adding to the Tsahfihki files she had left with them. She also prayed that someone else with linguistic skills would feel called to go to the village and move the translation work further along. However, Betty was shocked when she read the letter from Doreen Clifford bearing terrible news. In the letter Doreen apologized profusely as she explained how she had taken all of Betty’s linguistic notes and materials with her on a bus trip to Quito. She had placed the material in a bag that was slung on top of the bus, but when she arrived in Quito, the bag was gone. Doreen assumed it had been stolen somewhere along the way.
Betty put down the letter and stared out the window, unable to take in what she had just read. What had happened? Where was God in all of this? First her informant was killed, and now her work—the files, the charts, the notebooks—had vanished. The chain, only on its first link, was already broken. Someone else would have to begin again from scratch with the Tsahfihki language. It was almost too much for Betty to comprehend. Nine months of her life—gone! During the next few days, Betty tried hard to convey in a letter to Jim how she felt. But it was difficult. His work seemed to be progressing nicely at Shandia, while her work had been stripped away from her.
On July 28, 1953, Betty sat at the two-way radio. She often helped Carol Conn out by standing by for the mission updates each morning. All of the missionaries in the area participated. Nate Saint, or more often his wife, Marj, gave an update on the MAF flights for the day. People placed orders for deliveries and asked for prayer and advice on issues that involved them all. Sometimes as she sat by the radio, Betty heard Jim’s voice, and it filled her with delight to hear him, but not this day. Jim’s voice did come across the airwaves amid a lot of cracking and hissing, but he sounded desperate.
“Shandia to Shell Mera. Shandia to Shell Mera. Over,” Jim said over the radio. Betty could hear the franticness in his voice.
After a long pause, Marj’s voice came back: “I read you, Shandia. Shell Mera is standing by. Over.”
“Marj, bad news. The river is eating away the bluff under the hut. We are only five yards from the edge now. I’ll try to keep you posted, but if you don’t hear from me at two o’clock, you’ll know the house is over the edge. Over.”
“Shell Mera reading you, Jim. Will pass the message along. God bless you, and be careful. Over and out,” Marj replied.
Betty slumped back in her chair. Tears coursed down her cheeks. What was happening at Shandia? Were Jim and Pete all right? She stayed close to the radio for the next twenty-four hours, hoping Jim would relay another message. The radio was silent. Betty could stand it no longer. Someone had to do something! Betty persuaded a runner for Dos Rios to trek to Shandia to find out what had happened to the missionaries. She sent along with the runner a loaf of freshly made bread for Jim.
Betty had wanted to go along herself, but the Conns would not hear of it. It was the wet season in the Oriente, and there had been a lot more rain lately than normal. The trail would be muddy and difficult to negotiate, especially for someone unfamiliar with it as Betty was.
An agonizing two days passed before the runner returned to Dos Rios with his report. All the missionaries were safe, but their belongings were a different matter. All of the buildings at Shandia had been destroyed, and the flooded Atun Yaku River had swallowed the land on which they had sat. Shandia was no more. The only good news was that many of Jim’s and Pete’s belongings had been saved, even though they were sodden.
The runner also produced a hurriedly written letter from Jim. The letter was like manna from heaven to Betty. In it Jim described how the bluff that the settlement was built on had given way in the face of the surging river and how all the buildings had been lost along with part of the airstrip. Jim wrote that he doubted a plane could land there now and that the aerial wire needed to send out a radio signal had been lost in the chaos. He also wrote a few private thoughts meant only for Betty. “I wished for some reason that you were here—I do not know why, for we could not have a moment together,” Jim wrote.
That was enough for Betty, who sprang into action. She recruited some of the Quichua Christian men from Dos Rios to go back with her to Shandia to find Jim and help him in whatever way they could. They set out that afternoon. The trek was hellish as they slipped and slid through the mud, but Betty was determined to be by Jim’s side as quickly as possible.
The next day, Sunday, the group finally arrived at Shandia. The first runner Betty had sent was right: Shandia was no more. Even the land where the mission buildings had stood was gone. The whole place had been obliterated from the face of the earth. Where there had once been land and buildings there was now the angry, flooded Atun Yaku River.
Jim was delighted to see Betty and the group she had brought with her to help. Without a radio antenna or a landing strip, they had been completely cut off from other missionaries and unable to let them know the condition of things at Shandia.
After a happy reunion with Jim, Betty got right to work sorting out wet belongings, discarding ruined items, and draping the rest over bushes to dry.
As she worked, Betty kept a close eye on Jim. He was having trouble walking because his feet were raw, bloodied, and bruised. He’d explained that his feet were in this condition because in the frantic effort to save their belongings he had lost his shoes in the mud and had cut and bruised his feet walking around barefoot in the jungle in the dark. But it wasn’t Jim’s feet so much that bothered Betty; it was something else. Jim did not seem to be able to concentrate for long. He jumped around in his conversation and sometimes gazed off into the jungle, losing all track of what he was talking about. This was not at all like Jim.
The next day more help arrived in the form of Nate Saint and Dr. Tidmarsh. Nate had landed the MAF plane at Pano, and the two of them had hiked in together to see what they could do to help.
Dr. Tidmarsh frowned when he saw Jim. He took Jim’s temperature, asked him a few questions, and then made a pronouncement—malaria! The diagnosis made sense to Betty. No wonder Jim had seemed so distracted.
Dr. Tidmarsh insisted that Jim lie down right away, and he was not to get up until he was told to. Jim did not even argue. He just did what he was ordered to do.
For the next two days Betty looked after Jim as he drifted in and out of consciousness. She was grateful that Nate and Dr. Tidmarsh had come to help her and Pete. Ed also arrived to check out the damage and help wherever he could.
It took a week of Betty’s nursing before Jim had the energy to think straight, and then he wanted to talk about only one thing: what did they do next? He questioned the strategy God had in mind for them when He had allowed Shandia to be destroyed.
The men and Betty discussed all sorts of ideas. The most obvious was that perhaps God was trying to spread them out more widely as missionaries. Eventually they reached a consensus that Jim, Pete, and Ed should explore the area around them to see whether God might be leading them somewhere new. Betty agreed to stay at the campsite beside what was once Shandia and take care of their belongings while the three young men mounted an expedition to investigate.
The men set out early one morning in a dugout canoe. Jim was still weak but determined to play his part, though he promised Betty that he would stop and rest if he felt the need to do so. Betty knew that would not happen. Jim’s thirst for adventure would win out over resting and napping every time.
Betty wasn’t sure how long the men would be gone, but she used the time to continue learning Quichua. Local Christians came every day to sit with her and bring her food, and they were happy to talk with her in their language. As a result, she made rapid progress in learning Quichua.
Twenty-one days after setting out, the men returned. Jim looked fit and well, and the men had a lot to share. The big news was that a Quichua man named Atanasio, who lived in a clearing on the Puyo River, had begged the missionaries to send someone back to start a school for his children and the others in the area. As far as anyone knew, no unchurched Quichua had ever asked white people to come and teach him or her their ways. Jim was jubilant!
As Betty listened to the men talk, it was obvious that they saw Atanasio’s school as one of two areas that God wanted them to focus on. The other area of focus was to rebuild Shandia. Betty wondered about who would be assigned to each mission outpost. Jim soon took her aside to explain the situation.
“As we see it, we’ve already invested a lot of work here in Shandia,” Jim began. “The Indians know and trust us, and we shouldn’t give that up. It makes sense for Ed and Marilou to move here, especially since they don’t know the language yet and the Indians are used to having a missionary around. Of course, Ed will need either Pete or me to stay with him, at least until he knows enough of the Quichua language to get by.”
Betty nodded. It made perfect sense to her.
Jim continued. “We also think Atanasio’s invitation is a sign from God that we should begin a station down there, too. It would take two people to start the station. The sensible thing would be for Pete to stay here with Ed and Marilou and for me to start the new station. But I’ll need a partner.”
Betty could feel her heart pounding.
“So…” Jim continued, “how soon will you marry me?”