Along with the dawning of the new year came the urgent desire to do something BIG
before old age took over. One last adventure…but what?
The faraway places I hadn’t yet visited began calling. Almost immediately, plans for Australia shaped up—and scrapped. A cruise to Norway—also scrapped because I couldn’t sense God’s approval. Then came a routine newsletter from the Christian Discipleship Center in Cortez, Colorado. My heart lurched, and before I opened the envelope, I knew. God had closed the other doors to open this one.
CDC offers a 90-day discipleship program for Native American men struggling with alcohol and drug addictions. My husband and I worked at the center for two years and a summer before his homegoing nine years ago. In recent years, a program for women has replaced the men’s summer session. I had been invited to come, but prior commitments prevented it. But now? Perfect! This would be my big adventure. I would love Indian women to Jesus.
When I arrived at CDC, I was housed in the same three-bedroom cottage where my husband and I had lived. My duties included teaching Bible doctrines and health/hygiene.
By the first class, the six women scheduled to come had whittled down to two: Shelly, age 30 and unmarried, from the Havasupai tribe; and Denise, 49 and divorced, from the nearby Ute reservation, mother of eight and grandmother of six and counting.
Their personalities were as different as day and night. Shelly, a loner, came from her own apartment and felt it difficult to share, although they had separate rooms. (Read Shelly's story: Safe in His Hands) For Denise, the more the merrier. She was the leader, Shelly a follower. Shelly rarely spoke unless spoken to while Denise always had something to say.
Except for classes and counseling, our schedules were identical, and these ladies considered me an equal. We ate together, watched movies and lectures, played games (mainly Phase10TM), worked puzzles, went on outings, and attended church. I didn’t, however, participate in their work release program.
Though my purpose was to make a difference in the lives of these two women, the biggest change happened in me. I had always been “somebody,” not a great somebody, but somebody—Dr. Miley’s wife, missionary, editor. At CDC, I was nobody. I was a teacher but with no authority. I was just like they were. And one day, unknowingly, I offended Denise.
She became moody and unresponsive in classes, but I figured it simply was part of the change going on in her life. That is, until the day I approached her at the close of her work release to ask her about the meal we were preparing that night. Hot, tired, dirty, and angry, she let me have it—all of it!
No one...no one had ever spoken like that to me. Not my husband, my children, no one. Stunned and speechless, I turned and melted into the kitchen. I left the food on the table with a note saying I wasn’t feeling well and had gone home.
Breakfast the next morning was strained. Later in class, before we started, I turned to Denise. “Denise, this morning I wanted to say ‘Good morning’ and give you a hug, but I didn’t. May I do it now?”
“No!” she exploded, and Shelly, expecting confrontation, scooted from the classroom. I walked over to Denise and sat down beside her…and we loved each other again.
I’ve always known the ground is level at the foot of the cross, but that morning I experienced it. We are all sinners saved by grace. Regardless of skin color, culture, language, or lifestyle, kneeling at His feet, we are one. Did I help make a difference in their lives? Only God knows.
After graduation, Denise finished her jail sentence then gathered her fractured family and started loving them toward Jesus. She uses her Bible storybook and The Wordless Book to teach children in Sunday school.
Shelly regularly attends Bible studies, and her mentor keeps her occupied with other church duties. As far as I know, they’re both sober, and prayerfully, will remain so.
I told them that surely I would reach Heaven before they did, and I would be watching for them to arrive. I want to take them to Jesus. “This is Shelly, and this is Denise,” I will say. I can see His smile as He clasps them close, “I know…I know.”
That is why I went to Cortez.
About the Writer: Lorene Miley and her husband LaVerne began serving as pioneer missionaries in Côte d’Ivoire, West Africa. When the couple returned home, she served as editor of CoLaborer magazine for Women Nationally Active for Christ. The couple served at Christian Discipleship Center in the Four Corners region of Colorado from 1997-1999, and again in 2004.
