Like yesterday, the morning’s session began at 8:30. This time, however, we started with singing. My, oh my, these women sounded like an angelic choir as they lifted their voices to God in the Sema language. I sat in silence, humbled by the passion with which they sang. Frankly, I think they could have continued all morning, and I surely could have listened if they’d chosen to do so!

Their singing drew the attention of the hotel keeper’s two sons and one daughter, likely between the ages of five and twelve. They stood in the hall and peeked through the doorway until one lady jumped up and invited them to enter and sit in the front row. They sat perfectly still, wide-eyed and listening to every word that was sung and spoken.

Several times throughout the morning we stopped for prayer. Again, their simultaneous supplications rose heavenward. I listened in awe to their voices and sensed the Lord’s presence in that place in a very real way. These women were obviously here not to be entertained but to do business with God. Again, I cried out to Him to speak through me and minister to these gals in a way that would be culturally relevant.

The first session was meant to reinforce our value as women in God’s eyes. I believe God really spoke to their hearts. I felt so blessed to have this opportunity to remind them of their worth, and to encourage them to use their gifts to impact their nation for Christ.

This morning, we did a craft between sessions. I’d found a great deal at Michael’s craft store, perfect because of its Easter theme and lightweight foam pieces. So, each woman received a palm-sized foam banner with a gold cord to hang it. They decorated their banners with various foam shapes including crosses, flowers, hearts, and their choice of the word Jesus or Faith. Some added extra pizzazz with gold glitter glue. They had a blast! And you should have seen the kids participate. Their banners were covered with shapes from top to bottom.

Like yesterday, Gene and I ate lunch with the women in their hotel. Rice and lentils, fatty pork, and mustard greens filled our plates. I enjoyed chatting with those women sitting at our table. I learned that each participant had paid about $100 for this conference. That included the cost of an overnight train ride to get here, and a couple of sightseeing trips. Most had never been away from their area, and it was like turning a group of kids loose in Disneyland. Spending $100 for such an event was a huge financial sacrifice for their families, but again, it proved their hunger for fellowship and spiritual refreshment.

At 8:15 I entered the conference room. How can I best describe it? It was 10 feet wide and 20 feet long, maybe. The inside walls were yellow and paint-chipped. The outside wall had two windows covered with dingy curtains. When I opened the curtains, I saw only the grey concrete wall of the neighboring building about 15 inches away. There was no light bulb. Eighteen or so plastic chairs, some red, some grey, sat in rows. And there was one small table on which I could lay my bag and notes. What a stark contrast to women’s conference venues in North America, with their theme-coordinated centerpieces and decorations!

The women entered the room and smiled shyly at me as they took their seats. Some were wearing blue jeans; others wore traditional dress made of woven fabric with the pattern unique to their tribe. A few moments later, the conference organizer introduced me and suggested opening the meeting in prayer. Then he explained that in their culture, they prayed aloud at the same time. Instantly the women began crying out to the Lord simultaneously. I’d never heard anything like it. Some wept before God, pouring out their hearts to Him in earnest supplication. And I cried out to God to encourage these ladies in a way beyond human expectation or ability.

As the first session ended, I asked the gals to split into three groups and gave them two questions to discuss. They hesitated and seemed unsure of my request. That’s when I realized that small group discussion as we know it might be an unknown in their way of doing things. It took a few minutes, but finally a woman in each group assumed leadership and then quiet but sincere discussion began. I circulated through the groups to get a better understanding of their backgrounds and needs, and one woman said that the session’s key verses were her chosen verses for the new year (John 15). Tears filled her eyes as she spoke. Her words greatly encouraged me; the Lord had obviously been at work by preparing her heart for the message and by giving me the appropriate words. Indeed, He was doing something beyond human ability.

Exactly 22 years ago today, I left Nepal after the birth of our second child. Now I’m back in this part of the world and feeling right at home. Certainly there are changes – technology has taken a front seat (internet cafes, public phones, fax machines, etc.), and most people speak English now. It seems strange to see the majority talking on their cell phones as they walk through the crowded bazaar where bartering is still the norm.

Gangtok itself is most unusual. Built on a mountainside, each structure is at least six or seven stories high. Concrete steps connect one block to the next, upper and lower. If you were to fall over the edge of a sidewalk, you’d fall a LONG distance. Gene says it’s a wonder that the city can stay in place.

Gene and I are having a grand time using our Nepalese language again. After more than two decades of not speaking it, the words are coming back with surprising ease. And the look on shopkeepers’ faces is priceless when we strike up a conversation or ask questions.

Because this conference’s organizer didn’t arrive until late afternoon, we had time to hire a taxi and do some sightseeing. We visited a flower show – for Rs 10 each (24 cents) we gained admission to a small hall filled with orchids of every color and description. Many locals were there, snapping photos galore with their digital cameras or cell phone cameras. Afterwards we drove to a scenic waterfall, navigating hairpin curves through a residential area, dodging little children playing in the street for lack of anywhere else to play. The road was so narrow that we passed oncoming vehicles with about two inches to spare. It was so steep that my nerves just about came undone. Talk about white-knuckling in the back seat. I was very thankful to reach the waterfall safely. It was pretty now, but it will be magnificent during the monsoon season. There were huge stone carvings leading to the waterfall – reminded me of idols we’d seen in Nepal years ago.

Gangtok is a potpourri of Buddhism, Hinduism, and Christianity. For instance, I saw a massive Catholic cathedral with stained glass windows. Beside it stood a shrine as large as a house, featuring a statue of Mary in the center. Strings of Buddhist prayer flags decorated the shrine. Go figure.

The conference begins at 8:30 tomorrow. Originally, 70 women were expected to attend and I was to speak through a translator. Because of church political situations, only 17 have come and they all speak English – some more than others. Like I said, flexibility is the key!