Intimate Glimpses of Mission Life

A Day at El Hogar

The sun arose lazily in the clear sky and began to throw its hot beams over a sleepy island. Soon there was a stir of life at El Hogar. Someone came from the Girls’ Home with hot coals to start the fire for breakfast in the Boys’ Home. There was coffee and pan, or Cuban bread. The loaves were about three feet long and about half as big around as a loaf of bread in the United States.

Soon voices sounded, and workers moved about in all three buildings. The morning choruses began, and then the boys marched down to the basement dining room for desayuno. This was repeated over in the Girls’ Home. Not long after, they went to their morning chores, perhaps cleaning the yard or working upstairs, and around nine or earlier, they lined up and marched to the three-room schoolhouse.

That is, nearly all of them. There were two or three boys who could not attend school because of having no shoes. Not enough had come in to buy these extra, and the Government would not allow them to come to school barefoot. There was a reason for this. In Cuba, the children who go barefoot are prone to get a disease in their feet, and to prevent this, the children were refused entrance until shod.

Then one of the older girls came over to clean the floors. In Cuba, most floors are tile, because of the termites that work on the wooden floors. Every day, all the floors and porches had to be mopped with clear water.

There was different work allotted to each of the older girls to give them some experience in housework. After this, several of us met in Sister Stewart’s room for prayer. She lay or sat on her bed much of the time those days. Then each went to his or her work for the day. There were many letters to be written. Saints wrote for counsel and some had sent an offering. All had to be answered and promptly, before the new ones came in.

The bread man came in with a large sack of Cuban bread and left it at the Homes. Then the man came with carbon (which we would call charcoal). The cooks put it in a small grate built in the wall or on a stand and lit it with alcohol or some embers from another fire. The kettle sat directly on the fire and did not get black. It was much cleaner than coal or wood.

Milagros came in to talk to Sister Stewart about a problem, and Justina also who was the cook in the Boys’ Home. About that time the secretary of the Mission announced that he had come and “must see Abuelita for a few minutes.” Phyllis was busy in the office or teaching in the Bible School, and we were working on correspondence, so the noon found us surprised because it came so quickly. It was the day to pay the bread man, and he presented the bill for $20.00 for 80 to 95 persons for one whole week. This was very conservative as breakfast consisted each morning of a large piece of bread, and either a glass of milk or a cup of coffee.

It was one of those two days a week that Evangelio went to market, so he took a boy and started soon after breakfast. About 11 a.m. he returned with potatoes, dark and light beans, rice, boiling bananas, sweet potatoes, malanga roots, nami (another root vegetable), green and ripe tomatoes, brown sugar, and oranges.

Each day, for one meal, we had beans and rice, with perhaps one other vegetable, but no oleo or butter. Oleo costs 60 to 69 cents a pound, and it was too expensive. Meat, too, was expensive. On Sunday there was a meat stew; also soup was served for supper often, and most times meat was cooked in it.

At 1:45 p.m, the bell in the reception room rang, and we gathered in for noonday prayer. Here we prayed for burdens, healing, the church, and every need as presented. Recently we had anointed a handkerchief and sent it to a young man in a New York hospital who had a lump on his chest and was suffering. News came back that the pain was gone. We thank God!

Afternoon came, and Sister Stewart rested in her room, as usual, for at least an hour or two, although there were days so full that she did not get to rest that long.

Sometimes people came to the door and pled to have a child, or several, taken in, and there was the whole matter to be discussed and then investigated. Many things entered in each day to fill the hours and make the time all too short.

Supper time came, and afterward there was a meeting somewhere almost every evening. On Tuesday night, there was a prayer meeting at Buena Vista in Spanish, on Wednesday evening in Los Pinos; Thursday was English prayer meeting; and Friday, youth meeting in Spanish. Only Monday and Saturday nights were free.

Bedtime came all too soon, and we were always tired enough to rest.

Preparing for the Annual Convention

It was March, 1957, and only a short time until Convention date in April. The hearts of the missionary and workers were heavy. The means for the Convention had not come in, and out in the mission fields beyond were the faithful native workers. Their small allowance had not come yet, and a new month was already due.

The workers at headquarters, El Hogar, went to the table and could scarcely eat, thinking of these faithful ones. Somewhere, someone or several of God’s children failed to hear the call to share or did not heed. When the story came, the staff at El Hogar had been on their faces before God for several days, pleading for this pressing need and looking to God who works through human channels.

The question presented itself before us: “How could there be a convention this year?” First, there were the political conditions that might prevent it from being held, and then finances could not possibly take in the convention when food was needed. So the natural inclination was to believe the way was blocked.

But this was not man’s mission, nor man’s work, and we chose to follow God’s leading, so we continued to cry out to Him. Then a day of fasting was set, and in the evening, there was a gathering in the only living room of the mission (the plain reception room in the front of the main building).

Brother Campins from Buena Vista, Francisco Lopez from Cortorro, Morales from Santa Fe, the resident missionaries, and myself. Upon consideration of conditions, prospects were so dark that we decided it could not be done. We could not forget those poor brethren out there in the fields waiting, waiting, and now, word was coming in of their dire needs. But it was about too late to send a message to some in the North.

Then all decisions were laid aside, and humbly kneeling in prayer, God was asked to have His way, to lead and we would follow. One after another called mightily from burdened hearts to God to lead out.

Someone in prayer asked God to cause a check to be sent designated for the expense of the convention. This would indeed be an unusual thing, for so far, people had not made a habit of sending for the convention. But we depended on God, who is able to change the course of things that His Will might be done.

After two or three hours of earnest prayer, we arose from our knees, and there was praise and a happy conclusion. Faith Stewart arose and announced that she felt convinced that God wanted the convention to go on in spite of conditions, both political and financial. She said that we must go ahead as though all were well; go on faith that God would supply both the needy workers and the means for the convention.

So out of a clear sky, everything began. They were working on the Boys’ Homes. The few boxes of clothing that were here were opened, and every garment was laid out. Some were sent over to the Girls’ Home, and some to the Boys’. And then a few things were given to workers. Ruby was busy washing and Luisa busy ironing dresses for the missionaries for the convention.

The great covered box that sat in the living room was opened and pillows, quilts, and sheets were brought out and stacked up to be used for bedding. At Almendares, the men were working faithfully to get the church in readiness for the convention.

Everybody was busy planning. We had not the room we needed to place our guests as we would have liked, and we hoped that the Americans who came down would understand that we had done our best for them. We hoped they would not mind sleeping in the hospitable homes of the native Christians. They did not have all the facilities as we in the homeland did.

We remembered once inviting a young minister who seemed interested in missions to come to convention. He hesitated, looked interested for a moment, and then asked, “How is it over there? Could we have modern facilities?”

“It is just what you could expect on a mission field, nothing more or less,” I answered.

That young man had come among us from a more backward state, a very poor boy. God had graciously prospered him, and how soon he forgot the humble beginning in life! I fear sometimes we Americans have become too soft, and am made to think of the heady Romans and the cultured Greeks who also lived in luxury just before the fall of their countries.

But much needed to be done in getting ready for our incoming guests since that prayer in the front room of the mission. We had been receiving letters saying, “We are coming”—from Pennsylvania, Ohio, Maryland, Florida, California, Alabama, and Michigan. There were twenty-nine in all and only nine days left to convention!

We marched on, trusting God. And now God had given us a sign. A letter from Brother Martin in Lakeland, Florida, stated that a check for $195 had come just for convention. God was leading, and the prayer of that day was answered. We waited still from day to day, for our God who watches the sparrow would not let these brethren go hungry. He answered prayer.

Mercy drops were falling around us, but we were pleading for the showers. We were, while working every day preparing for the oncoming convention, waiting for the moving hand of God to open and pour out the blessing of answered prayer. He had written in His Word, “Trust in the LORD, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.”* (Psalm 37:3) It was He who would pour out the blessing and feed the waiting “Elijahs.”

Friday, March 29. Still mercy drops! And we thanked God for each life-saving mercy drop while we waited for the miracle that had to come soon.

Saturday, March 30. Breakfast was over, and we had earnest prayer in Sister Stewart’s room and were waiting for the mailman. Waiting and hoping. And while we waited, we were preparing.

Some went over to Elias’ room. He was an American-born Mexican boy from Chicago and was here for a few weeks working in the mission. When they found that two double beds would fit nicely in his room, he was told that he would have to move out and sleep in the room with the young man who cooked for the Boys’ Home.

Four Americans would fill his room. There was room also in the rear for more beds, and five American women could sleep there. And so the preparations moved on. Cooler dresses had been brought out of their places and washed and ironed afresh. When the convention really arrived, there was no time to do these things.

It was such a beautiful day, and I heard singing over in the Girls’ Home, and the housemother, Milagros, was consulting with Sister Stewart about the clothing for the girls. It was Saturday, and next Saturday would see us, God willing, ready for the first service.

Morales had visited the necessary party for permission to hold the convention, and in spite of conditions, permission was granted. This in itself was outstanding because of political conditions prevailing just then. Armando was stopped by officers, and he invited them to examine the station wagon and see that no arms were hidden therein. He explained that we were peaceable people doing good and at last was permitted to pass on. These were days of revolution and everyone had to walk carefully.

Monday, April 1. We had a good Sunday. After worship, Armando went for the mail, but there was none, and we met in our own room for prayer. We pled our case again before the Throne of God. After dinner, we went to English Sunday School, which began at three forty-five, staying until after the preaching service. Then we waited and worshiped with the Spanish, staying until 9:30 p.m. We drove carefully through the streets and reached home safely.

Milagros came over to the main building the next morning to say that in the small hours of the night, a woman had come to the door asking for admittance. She knew the woman, who had at times done sewing and mending for the Homes, and proved a quiet and faithful worker.

She had told Milagros that her husband had beaten her so badly that she could not return for fear of her life. And so she was given shelter for the night.

How God did work! A woman was badly needed for the work in the Girls’ Home, and through this incident, God provided. She was asked to stay and work until she could save enough to return to her former home and people with her two children. As she feared for her safety, she had to leave her own home. So through her sorrow and trial came help for the Children’s Home.

No mail again today! We were not discouraged, but still looking to God. We sat that afternoon planning. Five Americans in the spare room, six with Mother Gonzales, four or five scattered among us in the Home. Beds were placed in each room where there was any space. Armando and Evangelio had just returned from visiting a cook for the work at the convention.

Sister Stewart and I went out on the veranda. It was cool and the breeze from the ocean was fanning the great palms standing so proudly on the grounds of El Hogar. And these palms served the land like giant fans, sending a cool breeze on this beautiful Cuban day. Sister Stewart was very weary with the busy planning and sat down to rest. So I sat down beside her.

“Please tell me about the first Christmas you fed the poor,” we plead, feeling a bit guilty, knowing how tired she was.

“Well,” she said, “it was like this. I came here in September, 1930, and of course, as I have stated before, it was among the English-speaking people. The suffering of the poor was awful, and there was no work for them.

“I could scarcely enjoy eating my crust of bread; but as we neared Christmas, the situation grew harder to bear. I began to think about their Christmas, and a plan came to me. I went to town and put an ad in the paper, stating that I was a missionary come to Cuba and wished to help the poor at Christmas and would appreciate any offering of foodstuff contributed for this purpose.

“A few days later a banker sent word that I should call at his place of business, bringing references. Alas, I had no references. I had not lived here long enough to know or be known by prominent people in Havana, for I had only worked among the very poor. So gathering the little available—my medal given me in India by the British government, a report of my work in Cuttack, India, and a letter of congratulation from an official there; I presented these with my apology. I told the banker the situation, and why I knew so few.

“He, in turn, apologized, saying that he had been deceived so often before that he had required the reference to clear all doubt. At the close of the conference, he said, ‘You may return and rest assured that I will not forget.’

“The days wore on. Five, then ten dollars came in, and so on each day until December 24. In the afternoon, we were to have a little program, so I was quite busy at my home. I saw a truck stop in front of the house, and two men, after conference, began to unload.

“There was a barrel of potatoes, a hundred-pound sack of rice, bags of sugar, a hundred-pound bag of sweet potatoes, a ham, two large slabs of pork side, bags of coffee, all piled up in the little room where we were to have service.

“Just then, a woman came up to the door saying, ‘Please give me some work. My husband has a trade, but he has no work, and I have walked the streets, willing to do anything. I cannot steal.’

“I gave her a forty-cent piece. At that time, she could buy rice, beans, and sugar with it, and I told her to get some supper, and then come over to the house for the Christmas program. She and her husband and children all came. Afterward we invited them to breakfast the next day. We had quite a crowd on Christmas morning for breakfast. After morning worship, I said to all, ‘None need to go hungry today; see what God has sent in?’

“So about forty people came for dinner and then went out and bought friends, and a larger group came for supper. And the next day we divided out the food equally among the Christians.

“That was the first Christmas. Every Christmas after that, the crowd grew larger in number. The last year that we fed the poor at Christmas, there were seven hundred who came to eat and receive a blessing. This past year, in 1956, we were quarantined because of sickness in the mission just at that time and could not do as in former years.”

We arose at the close of the story and left the veranda just as Urbana, the native woman whose husband had beaten her and thrown her out, came out. She had come to talk over arrangements for working at the homes. We left them talking on in Spanish and went with another worker to give an object talk to the boys in the Boys’ Home.

Some of the boys wanted to be Christians, so we all knelt down on the tile floor of the patio and prayed with each boy who had come forward.

No mail for two days now—no income, but still we waited. There was but one dollar in the Children’s home at El Hogar, but we knew our God was able.

Monday evening and the day was over, and we knelt in the front room, praying for guidance in those hard days of waiting. All were glad to go to rest.

Tuesday. Morning prayer was over, and Armando and Evangelio were in the front room. They told us that there was nothing but a little rice in the house, no lard to cook with, and no money to buy it. We had come to a place where we had to pray with more burden and cry out mightily to God. He had never failed and He would not fail us then.

The schools for the children were opened again. In December of that year the schools had been closed, as there were a few cases of a contagious disease, but these were soon over. But January, February, and March came and went, and the schools were not permitted to open. Why? Neglect by those in authority to open the schools again at the mission. Three months of absence from school makes passing any grade almost impossible. Faith Stewart recognized this, but she also knew that there was absolutely nothing that could be done. You say those were dark spots. Are there not dark spots everywhere in every undertaking? And going through those testing times when we could do nothing but wait—did it not cause us to lean heavier on God?

Texidor had just come in from Camaguey and stayed over for the convention. And here came Justina over to Sister Stewart’s room with three of the little girls, all under six years of age from the nursery. One of them was beginning to cry as they entered. What was their trouble?

In those days, dangerous political days, no children were allowed to go outside the big front gates and be on the street in front of the home alone. These were days of revolution, and many dangers lurked in the streets. No little girl was safe alone on the sidewalk.

Enemies of God and His people would also be very glad to spirit the little ones away, and they would be lost to the Home. Now, these little girls had repeatedly run out after all the counsel and careful explanation given by those in charge. Their very lives were in danger, and the welfare of the mission homes as well.

At last, the three little culprits stood in a row in front of Faith Stewart. Once more she explained to them, with great patience, the wrong and dangerous thing they had done, and told them that this time, it must not go unpunished.

“Those little legs and feet have carried you out and caused worry and trouble to the workers, and they must be punished.”

She quietly inflicted a light punishment to each, and all went to prayer, and each in turn made a solemn promise to do better.

And then they marched out with Justina, whose own little girl was one of the offenders. Time had been taken from the busy day of the missionary, but time well invested in the little hearts and lives who would be here years after “Abuelita” would long have gone to her eternal rest.

Later Sister Stewart came in my room saying, “I promised to tell you about the family you were interested in. They were indeed precious people. Many years ago, when I was out calling in a certain neighborhood, a lady told me that in the the house next to hers lived a family where two little children had been taken by death. The poor parents were sad and needed comforting.

“So I stopped in and told them I had heard of their sorrow and felt that I could not pass by their home without turning in. After conversation and prayer, I left them with an invitation to attend services. On the walls of their home were images and other symbols of their religion. But they had never seen a Bible and knew nothing of salvation. They burned incense to idols and had prayer books.

“Before long, they accepted Christ as their Savior. We had made many calls to their home and worked hard for their salvation. They seemed to be happy in their confession of faith; but one day, the wife came tearfully to the house, saying, ‘We have just learned that we are living in sin, and we want to know what to do about it.”

“ ‘Living in sin?’ I asked.

“ ‘Yes. When we were young, we saved up money to get married, but the priest charged so much that we could not afford the amount. Marriage not performed by the priest was not recognized. Two or three times we saved some money, but each time something happened that we had to let the money go and not get married.

“ ‘We know that God has delivered us, and yet we learned that to live together without marriage is sin. We have found it in the Bible.’

“ ‘Why don’t you get your birth certificate and get married now?’

“ ‘I was born far out in the Island, and when a child is born, the priest only has the record. If I could only get there, it would be wonderful.’

“She went to work to save and do all she could, and at last a way opened to make the long trip with some of the mission folk.

“But she returned sadly, for the priest absolutely refused to give her the date of her birth unless he could perform the marriage ceremony. These customs and this strange hold on the people was the cause of much fornication in these lands, and a great discouragement to youth who seemed to have so little to look forward to in the future.

“She was advised to trust the Lord and wait, hoping that there would be an amendment to the present law that made marriages not valid unless performed by the priest. So those two people began to live in their own home as though they were not married so as to be true to their ideal of the Christian life.

“Two more years passed, and the family went on serving God. One day, someone brought a paper; an amendment had been made at last to the marriage laws, informing those who did not have a birth certificate that they could go down to the Government building and obtain one for the amount of two or three dollars. The family made up the money between them, and soon a wedding was celebrated at my home. A most unusual wedding this was, as both children and grandchildren were present to witness.”

The story ended and she went in to dinner.

Tuesday, 2 p.m. A missionary from a denominational church in Santiago came to visit at El Hogar. We all gathered for prayer, and then Sister Goodman made a pudding from a package brought over from the States. My! How we looked forward to those shopping bags! Friends coming over kindly remembered the folks at the mission.

It was possible to put in an open shopping bag any groceries except fresh fruits or green vegetables and bring them through customs. These things were high-priced here, such as oleo for sixty cents and over and bacon and cheese, etc. So, many times had the missionaries been made glad by an American visitor’s shopping bag. But tonight the boxes of pudding were all opened at once and the boxes of Jell-O, and this was what we served the children for supper. There was nothing else to give them in the house.

Wednesday. Phyllis went to school, and the mail had not come. Mercy drops still falling, and still we waited for the showers. Today thirty-five dollars came in. We drove the hour or so to Alquizar to pray for Jesus Real (pronounced HAY-soos ree-AL), the pastor of the church there, who was ill. Joel and Evangelio also were both sick. Last night Joel was very sick with a high fever, and a minister went over to the Boys’ Home to pray for him. He was the caretaker of the boys.

At the midday worship, the workers gathered in. Urbana had been talking to Sister Stewart. She said that her husband did not smoke or drink, but that he claimed to be in sympathy with the Communistic teaching, and demanded that she work hard and support him. She had to pay the rent and set the table and furnish clothes for her children. If she did not have food good enough to suit him he would beat her. This time he beat her and threw her out. He worked steadily and banked his money and held the bankbook. So she was accepted gladly at the Home.

Thursday, April 4. A beautiful day with the cool breeze sweeping through the trees. Brother Avila from Santiago arrived early, so he helped the brethren who were being so overworked at that time. He said he could not bring his wife and children. Those were dangerous days, and they feared to leave home and the mission building, lest someone would come in during their absence and set up quarters in the mission building and would not leave.

They were not even sure that if they started out that they would ever arrive safely. The trip would be a strenuous one, and they might be stopped at any place by soldiers, and their clothing and baggage be searched. Brother Avila had no permit as yet, and it was very risky traveling! Innocent ones were arrested and put in jail those days.

So in the afternoon, Texidor, Sister Goodman, and myself went out in the car to Alquizar and found Jesus lying in bed ill. God wonderfully healed him years ago of tuberculosis, and he had been serving God as a minister of the Gospel ever since. After praying for him, we went down the village street to see the little place of worship they had erected.

It was a small building and made very simply, but when we realized the sacrifice and labor of love this small group of Christians had expended on the place, it added more interest to the scene.

This young man translated many English hymns into the Spanish language and made it possible for the congregations to have songbooks with the loved doctrinal songs of the Reformation. We have songs in our books that can be found in no other songbooks. They proved a great blessing to the mission in Cuba.

We got in the station wagon and started homeward, remembering the trouble we had finding the right roads as we drove through the villages on our way there. And we soon arrived in good time at El Hogar.

The mail had arrived. And how we thanked God! The offering today was three hundred dollars for general expenses. Every penny was needed at once to pay some expenses and to buy food for the Children’s Homes.

We met for noonday prayer as usual. There were nine missionaries and workers among the ladies present and seven ministers and workers among the men.

Then Armando entered and asked for the keys for the car. He was going to the hospital to get his wife Carmen!

About two weeks ago, he had been told that no more could be done than what had been done, and that had been of no avail. For a year, prayer and fasting, and even tears had been shed for her healing. For a year, she had been in that hospital, compelled to take treatments, and we had all been holding her up in prayer. Armando had grown discouraged. We had been compelled to send her whether we willed or not. She was a sweet young woman with a gentle manner, and the day that she was taken to the hospital was a sad one to all of us.

Weeks, then months, and then a whole year had gone by, and according to the men of science, there was no hope.

But then, a few days later, there was a change, a vital change! All at once Carmen was her old self. Every evidence of healing, now that men had given up. She was able to take an interest in things about her, and the hospital staff said that she was certainly a changed person, but they could not understand. Today she was to leave the hospital a well woman.

It seemed now that God had waited through those long months of her illness while she was compelled to be in the hospital, to show His power and might as soon as men gave up and admitted defeat. To Him be all the glory and honor! Before we entered into petitions for our many needs, we knelt and offered thanksgiving to God for Carmen’s healing.

Then Sister Stewart entered and told us she had now a volunteer for the kitchen work for the convention. She was also trying to plan for a place at Buena Vista where she could rest between services during convention.

At 3:30 p.m., a group of Christians, mainly young people, Ruby, Luisa, Heliadora, Milagros, Elia, and Evangelio, were in session in Sister Stewart’s room with paper and pencil and Bible in hand. They were receiving instructions in personal work at the altar and were there one hour with Sister Stewart as teacher. This was all a part of the preparation for the convention.

Then we got ready to start to the service at Almendares. The car was in the garage; the new station wagon was not going, so Armando and Evangelio put the table in the old station wagon and Faith Stewart and I got in the middle seat. Evangelio and Armando started, and then Phyllis came running out saying, “Brother Spears is at the airport. What shall we do?”

There was quite a delay. Then we decided to just go and meet him in the old car as we were. So we went rattling and bumping down the road, and I marveled that Sister Stewart, tired and worn out as she was, could stand all that at the end of the busy day.

10:30 p.m. On reaching home from services, we found that seven Americans had arrived during our absence. Truly the spirit of convention was there already.

Friday. The nine o’clock plane that morning brought two more guests, one from California and one from Virginia. So dinner was eaten and there was a general hurry to get out to the 2:30 plane. Then Brother Wilson and three brethren from Newark, Ohio, arrived and brought with them several suitcases with used clothing for the Homes and three shopping bags of groceries to help out on the table.

The contents were quickly put away, and they walked out to visit the Children’s Homes and look about the place. Then a phone call announced that Brother French, a Jamaican minister, from Guantánamo in the Oriente, was coming in on the train, bringing two young men.

After supper, the children came over from the Home and gathered out on the front patio and sang lustily their pretty Spanish choruses. After talking over the work of the kingdom, we went to prayer. Then all retired, and we sent our guests to their respective places.

Saturday, our guests were still coming in, six from Pennsylvania, eleven from Ohio, one from California, and one from Alabama, until twenty-nine were accounted for.

And now offerings were coming in, and God was supplying as we entered into the eight-day annual convention in Havana.

Day by day brought fellowship, sermons, souls saved, and much accomplished spiritually, and an interest as the guests came and went. The native ministers had sacrificed much to be present. They went about with smiling faces and were a happy family.

There were many things that made these meetings interesting. During the services, it was announced that Brother Prudencio Linares and his sweet little wife, Anita, had, by the grace of God, settled about going to Haiti to serve God as missionaries from the island of Cuba.*

Several years before, Anita received the call definitely from the Lord, but waited and prayed for God to speak to her husband, and was counseled by Faith Stewart to leave all in the hands of God. He was perhaps the most outstanding young minister in the mission.

In a meeting where Sister Stewart was preaching in a private home in the country, four or five members of one family accepted Christ. Among those people were the two young Linares brothers. They could neither read nor write at that time.

For two years, Faith Stewart sent a man to that village twice a week to teach them to read and write. Soon they began to read the Bible and preach, and a fine congregation was raised up in Esperanza, and others also sprang up under the untiring efforts of Brother Prudencio and wife.

But their burden for souls in Haiti would not let them stay on in the homeland, and the announcement was made publicly at the Convention that they would be going as soon as God opened the door.

Although she knew that it would be a real loss to the work in Cuba, Faith Stewart rejoiced to see her mission yielding workers for other waiting fields, and she was a real missionary and was happy over the call.

A minister arose and said that there was little they could do, but since they could not give money to their brother who was going to other fields, why not come the next afternoon and bring one article of clothing, in fact, the best one they possessed, and sacrifice it as a love offering to missions.

These consecrated Cuban ministers had to live on such a small income that they depended largely on the clothing that came to the mission from the United States, and to give the best meant far more than to some others. It was the first offering of the kind we had ever seen. It was real.

One by one, or in groups, our visitors returned home, and the ministers and workers returned to their various fields. After the annual meeting of the ministers, we all settled down again to routine and picked up the threads and started over once more to press on for another year.

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Reader, we have just stopped our narrative in order to take you with us to the mission and give you a day at El Hogar and then take you through the preparations for the annual convention held in Havana and give you a real visit to the very seat of operations on a mission field. All this has happened in about two weeks time. And now we return to the narrative proper.