Three weeks ago, the Project Ethiopia team started planning for a banquet which was held last night (the 14th). I have no reservation in saying that the first night of planning was disastrous. The rest of the team, I thought, was being a mite too altruistic about the whole thing, and I was—as always—the eternal pessimist, seeing half-empty (if not completely dry) glasses all over the place, but none were daunted—except for me. I was convinced that the banquet was going to be a failure; we were going to lose money, not raise it; and, worst of all, we were going to be made to look as fools in front of friends, family, and whomever else we were able to cajole into coming. I was not pleased.
The next week, I couldn’t make the meeting, so I’m not sure what all was worked out there, but from the emails that began flying around—and I think there were somewhere in the vicinity of 700,000 by the time the thing was said and done.—I was still not at all certain that the thing would work. Then came Wednesday the 11th of April, just 3 days before the banquet was scheduled, and everything was still in disarray. I voiced my concern to team leader, Jordan Callaway, after the meeting, and we went on from there, with my promise to continue to help as much as I could, even though I was prepared for, and expecting, failure.
I ended up getting up at 6:45 Saturday morning to drive to Dallas to pick up the food, and our resident Ethiopian, Asmamaw tagged along. Boy, was I glad he was there. The people were all speaking in Ethiopian, and I would have been completely lost had I been there alone. When we got to the Ethiopian church in Dallas, we were taken to the kitchen where we were shown two tubs of what appeared to be soup and I was floored. I bitterly and angrily thought that these people had just given us a gallon of soup to feed 150+ people, and they expect $125 for it? They must be kidding. Asmamaw seemed very happy, but Asmamaw always seems very happy. After that, I found out that I had to go buy Injera (Ethiopian bread). I was under the assumption that we were going to Dallas to buy a completed meal for $125, not that we were going to have to buy more stuff. I kept my mouth shut, soldiered on, and we made it back to Longview 7 hours after we had left. At that point, we had to begin preparing everything immediately.
At this point, I was unsure whether or not I thought the banquet might just happen, or if I still thought it was going to be an utter disaster. Sodexho, the food service company that serves LeTourneau University, was amazingly helpful. They allowed us to warm the food in their professional warmers, use their counter space to prepare the salad and the Injera, and gave us all sorts of equipment for free that we normally would have had to rent from them. As we began to unload the food in the kitchen, Asmamaw started telling us what was in it, and how to prepare it. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that the soup we picked up was not just soup, but a full lamb dish. I suddenly felt much better about the money we spent to get it all. I’m sure if I spoke Ethiopian, I would have known all that sooner, but learning Ethiopian just hasn’t quite come up on my to-do list.
I spent the next couple of hours preparing food, ordering some volunteers about, and making sure everything was setup and ready to begin serving at 5:00 pm. At 4:50, I had to leave so I could shower and get ready for the evening.
When I returned, the food had been moved from the kitchen to the banquet hall, the sternos had been turned on about an hour before, and we were ready to keep the food hot and serve the arriving guests. The banquet went off without a hitch. Everyone who came (and there were about 120-130) was served, afterwards, the volunteers, musicians, and Project Ethiopia members were also served. This banquet, for which we had no idea how many people were coming and for which it didn’t look like we would have anywhere near enough food, was truly a fish and loaves situation.
At about 6:45, fifteen minutes after the banquet was scheduled to be over, I stood in the serving line, plate in hand, ready to enjoy my portion of the fine Ethiopian cuisine. Asmamaw came over and asked if we had anything left because someone just came in and wanted food. I looked down and saw that there was enough for just one more person, told him so, and began to scrape the last of the food out onto the plate to take to this final guest. When I set the plate down in front of him, I had a thought (surprising, I know). This meal had just served everyone here except for me. I, the one who, from the beginning, said it was going to be a failure, was the only person who did without. Now, I don’t know for sure, and I don’t guess I really will, but I cannot help but wonder if that was a moment where God just finally beat me over the head, saying, “Just have a little faith, you idiot.” That moment has changed my jaded outlook on the whole trip.
After some setbacks in fundraising, I decided that if I was going to go to Ethiopia this summer, God would have to provide a way, and like the banquet, I didn’t at all expect that to happen. After the banquet, my dad and I went to get something to eat because I was hungry and he wasn’t so fond of the Ethiopian food. My dad mentioned that he was thinking much differently about the trip than he was the last time we had spoken on the subject. I voiced my similar opinion, and he decided that he would support me to go. What a windfall.
Not only did God show me that I needed a little faith, but he also provided a way to go to Ethiopia. He’s a big God; he’s a good God, and he’s a God with a sense of humor, too.