A Billion Dollars

Author © Scott D. Zachary

       “Good morning, Scott. Want to go to the Bahamas next week?”

       “Sure! What are we gonna be doing there?”

       “No, I’m serious, Scott,” insisted Elder Phil Lambert. “We’re leaving Saturday on a Christian mission to the Bahamas.”

       “I am serious. What are we going to do there?”

       Phil brightened. “My son, Mason, works for IDES—International Disaster Emergency Services. He is already on-site and will be leading our efforts. Our team will be leaving this coming Saturday on a disaster relief mission. We’re going to Grand Bahama Island to replace electrical outlets, switches, and breaker boxes in homes—and possibly businesses—that were flooded during Hurricane Dorian back in August and September.”

       “Sounds like fun! Count me in!”

       After the worship service, my saintly wife and stalwart supporter, Bobbie, and I drove straight to Lowes. We spent the afternoon shopping for every imaginable electrical tool and supply. An intrigued sales lady asked about our shopping spree. I told her that I was preparing to go with a Christian disaster relief team to the Bahamas on Saturday to help in their recovery from Hurricane Dorian’s devastation. She blessed us and told us to find her when we finish shopping. After nearly four hours of meticulously selecting tools and materials for every foreseeable contingency, that sweet lady gave us a nice discount.

       Bobbie and I went directly from Lowes to Walmart to buy everything else for my mission trip to the Bahamas. When we arrived home, it took me two hours to unbag, unbox, and unpackage everything so it would all fit in my two duffel bags.

       While filling out IDES’s online application and paying their mission fee, I donated a hundred Bibles to replace some of those lost in the hurricane. Many of us affluent Christians take our Bibles for granted as we take nearly everything else for granted. These missions help put my arrogant attitude into remission for a time.

       My mission to the Bahamas dished up one delight after another. The Wednesday morning before leaving, I was preparing my weekly update to my Covenant partners, Ralph Porter and Tony Lockhart. I listed several activities that I was involved in at the time and completed the list with a note telling them that I’d be leaving on a mission to the Bahamas in three days. It suddenly occurred to me that Ralph had been on scores of missions and is an electrician! I moved my Bahamas note to the top of my list, followed by “Want to go?” bolded and underlined.

       Ralph promptly responded, “I have a couple of doors that I need to hang in our new orphanage next week. If I can get someone to do that for me, I’ll go.”

       I gave Ralph the details about our mission to the Bahamas along with the contact information. Ralph called Phil, who found a volunteer to install those doors.

       Bear in mind that when Ralph accepted my invitation, he was at Dollywood on the southern Tennessee border, a couple hundred miles from home, enjoying a vacation with his understanding wife, Barbie. And it was Wednesday afternoon! Our team would be flying out of Evansville, Indiana, airport on Saturday morning. Ralph had two full days to wrap up his vacation, drive several hours back to northwest Kentucky, book his airline tickets, gather and pack all his gear for the trip, and jump on the plane. That’s compassionate faith in action!

       Bobbie and my granddaughter, Remi, got up at 3:30 a.m. on Saturday to drive me to the Evansville airport. There, I joined up with Phil Lambert, Benji DeWitt, and Ralph.

       The delights never ceased. The airport in Freeport hadn’t yet recovered from the hurricane. They were only allowing emergency flights on the runway; thus, the circumstances forced us to take a cruise ship from West Palm Beach to Freeport. Yes, we’re on a mission—taking a cruise! Ralph and I strolled along the tenth-floor promenade deck of the Grand Celebration cruise-liner, verbally savoring our past Christian missions—here and there and around the world. I had to continually remind myself that we were on a disaster relief mission! We thoroughly enjoyed the extravagant buffets, the beautiful ocean views, and the luxury accommodations. And to think that Phil had struggled for weeks to find a few volunteers for such uncommon sacrifices!

       A tall security officer at the Port Authority in Freeport surveyed all the electrical tools and materials in my duffel bags and asked, “Did you tell the Customs Officials that you would need a green card?”

       “I don’t need a green card if I’m not getting paid for my work, do I?”

       The official pondered for a moment. “I suppose not.”

       Phil’s son, Mason, met us at the seaport in Freeport on Sunday morning and taxied us in his pickup truck. Along our route, Mason explained that a Pastor Garvey would be prioritizing our relief efforts.

       As we drove through the countryside, nearly all the trees looked more like spindles, the leaves and branches gone. Having been a British colony, the Bahamians drive on the left-hand side of the road. They import most of their vehicles from the United States, so the steering wheel is also on the left-hand side of the car. Mason said he hadn’t had any problems learning to adjust to this awkward combination, though.

       A quaint bungalow in rural Bootle Bay of West End served as our operations center and temporary home—a rock’s throw from the beach. The one-story house has a homey veranda encompassing two sides of the structure.

       Perhaps most delightful was our Sunday morning worship service at New Life Church in Eight Mile Rock. Yes, the same Eight Mile Rock where Bobbie and I had celebrated our first wedding night seventeen years earlier. Entering the one-room church, I extended my hand to a jolly lady named Stephanie. She looked at my hand with contempt, which dumbfounded me. Stephanie then smiled grandly and wrapped her arms around me, giving me a welcoming bear hug!

       I’ve never felt more loved by anyone than I did by everyone in that sweet congregation of perhaps twenty. Pastor Michael Garvey, who went by just “Garvey,” and Elvis, a giant of a man whose smile filled the room, made us feel like family.

       I have never enjoyed a church service more, and I have never been in a room more filled with the Holy Spirit. The only musical instrument was a tambourine; otherwise, we sang a cappella. Garvey’s wife, April, led us in singing the hymns “I Have Decided to Follow Jesus” and “Soon and Very Soon We Are Going to See the King.” That was the most beautiful music ever!

       Pastor Garvey had invited Ralph to deliver the sermon. Ralph did an excellent job expounding on the prophecies in the fourth chapter of Revelation. I became even more impressed by Ralph’s passion for serving the Lord. His all-in devotion has amplified my desire to do whatever God calls me to do. After the sermon, we sang several more hymns. Elvis handed the tambourine to a little boy who never missed a beat.

       We diligently worked for three and a half days replacing electrical outlets, switches, breaker boxes, and breakers on Grand Bahama Island. We worked the first two days in Freeport and the last day and a half in the West End. I felt as though I was merely returning the favor of the Bahamians’ unusually kind hospitality that Bobbie and I had enjoyed nearly two decades earlier during our elopement.

       Monday, we replaced all the electrical components in four homes of Regency Park North. The first was the house of a man named Peter. He won my admiration as he told me of his harrowing experience. When six feet of water slammed into his neighborhood, Peter’s top priority was to climb into his attic to secure his most valuable possession—his Bible—in the upper joists of his house before swimming through the dangerous rising current to higher ground. That’s devotion!

       I’m not sure exactly when I had first begun evaluating the “light of the Lord” emanating from people’s eyes. By this time, I had made it a personal study to grade people’s eyes much like I do diamonds. Upon seeing the radiance beaming from the young lady’s eyes at our third home, I immediately concluded, “I can tell you’re a Christian by the light of the Lord shining brightly from your eyes!”

       Tia glowed even more. “Thank you! That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

       Christians often compliment each other’s dress or shoes or tie, but I don’t recall any compliments ever given about a person’s eyes or smile. Except, of course, that one time when my Christian mentor, Denis Wheatley, said, “You have a beautiful smile, Scott.” I’ll remember that for the rest of my life, and I’m sure that Tia will also carry that sparkling nugget for life.

       On Tuesday, we worked in another Tia’s home and at Francine’s. The ladies thanked us abundantly. In response to Francine’s repeated thanks, I told her, “I can’t think of anything in the whole world I’d rather be doing.” I meant it.

       Tuesday was such a delight! A lady named Princess praised the Lord effusively despite having lost all her personal belongings. I had volunteered to come on this mission to the Bahamas, thinking that I would lift their spirits. Princess lofted mine sky-high. Her exuberant faith in the face of disaster was heartening. Princess could be the most jovial and faithful person I’ve ever met. I sat down beside her in a lawn chair on her carport to encourage her. Instead, she lifted my belief and my faith in prayer enormously!

       Princess told me the story about her troublesome granddaughter, Gracie, who had relentlessly coaxed her to take their entire extended family on a cruise. Princess explained to the adamant little girl that she couldn’t afford it. Gracie persisted, and Princess found a cheap cruise for twenty of their family. Hurricane Dorian struck while they were all aboard their cruise ship in the Port of Miami. Gracie’s sour attitude vanished when she became her family’s savior!

       After talking with Princess for the better part of an hour, I walked into her house. Seeing Phil on his knees replacing an outlet, I quipped, “About time I did some work, eh?”

       Looking over his shoulder, he said, “You were working. Princess needed a compassionate ear.”

       Next, we replaced all the electrical fixtures in Ken’s home down the street. While we were working, I overheard that his son plays basketball for one of the NBA teams. Ken, a fit man of about 45, and I talked at length about my journey through alcoholism and bipolar disorder to becoming a Christian missionary. His fascination spurred me to continue talking. I showed him my ten-year AA token, and he held it as though it was solid gold. I shared how I began feeling the Lord prodding me to become a Christian medical missionary, of all things. “The prodding became stronger and stronger until I relented eight years ago. Looking skyward, I said, ‘Okay, Lord, I’ll do whatever you want. Just please try to make it perfectly clear what you want me to do.’ ”

       “Unconditional?!” asked Ken.

       “Yes, sir. Ever since then, I’ve leaned into God’s will, and he paints a path right in front of me to follow, just like the Yellow Brick Road.” I highlighted to Ken all the missions I’d been on and all the charity work I’d done to help those in need.

       Astounded, Ken extolled, “You’ve given so much, Scott!”

       “My heart is filled to overflowing with joy! How much is that worth?!”

       “A billion dollars!” he exclaimed.

       “At least.” I considered all the crosses and scriptures adorning Ken’s home. His faith was apparent, yet it was also evident that he was pulling back on the reins. “You need to get on board, Ken.”

       “Get on the other side of the fence, huh?”

       “Yep, quit riding that fence. The Apostle Paul quoted Isaiah in First Corinthians, chapter two, verse nine, saying, ‘No man has seen, nor heard, nor imagined the wonders that God has prepared for those who love the Lord.’ ” Smiling joyfully, “I want to see that!”

       “That’s profound!” he declared.

       “Go with God, Ken.”

       “I will.”

       He waved gratefully and enthusiastically as we drove away.

       That evening, Mason drove all six of us to Old Bahama Bay Marina on the West End. Seventeen years earlier, Bobbie and I had strolled around this marina, admiring the glistening yachts that packed all the slips. They were all gone now, perhaps to St. Lucia or Nassau, islands that didn’t take a direct hit from Dorian the way Grand Bahama Island did.

       We worked on houses Wednesday along Bay Shore Road in the West End. In Garvey’s home, we replaced all the electrical connections. Garvey owns a construction supply company that employs numerous construction crews. By getting his life back on track, Garvey is able to help thousands of people. After the power company turned on Garvey’s electricity, we worked at Karen and Sherek’s house a couple of doors down the road. I had another enjoyable conversation with Karen. Their business and their son’s business, both serving conch dishes to tourists, had been washed away, yet she could barely contain her joy! We talked at length as I worked to replace outlets and switches. I was amazed and encouraged by Karen’s unequivocal faith in Jesus!

       After we replaced the breaker box and all the receptacles and switches in Karen and Sherek’s house, Ralph being an electrician, attached a generator to the main feed and tested our work. After the power company turned on the electricity, Sherek prepared a conch salad for us before our eyes. It’s the national dish in the Bahamas, and they say that half of the conch salad experience is witnessing its creation in front of you. I can see why! Watching Sherek extract the conch from its shell was cringeworthy. You see, conch is like a snail the size of both of your fists! It was a little rubbery, but it was delicious. The fresh lime and hot sauce nailed it.

       We rushed around on Thursday morning, wrapping up as many projects as we could before boarding our cruise ship. I’d like to emphasize how extremely appreciative everyone was for our helping them recover from Hurricane Dorian. During all our travels throughout Freeport and the West End, we heard numerous stories of Bahamians who’d been swindled. Evil men had promised to help them and instead fled with the money borrowed to fix their electrical, their drywall, or their roof. That’s sad.

       On the other hand, some had a band of musketeers happily show up and do it for free! What a delightful privilege and experience it was to serve the Bahamian people.

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       During the flight home Friday afternoon, I chatted with a sweet lady named Katherine for more than two hours. She is an avid follower of numerous authors to the extent that she attends their author events so she can understand what motivates their writings and how they develop their books.

       Katherine’s fascination with my missions, my stories, and my writing inspires me. I told her about how the title of my book of short-story memoirs had become “No Iguana Business.” I shared with Katherine how I had often joked with our granddaughter, Remi, about animals such as walruses, duckbilled platypuses, and iguanas. I then related what Remi had said to Grandma on the way to our house: “Tell Papaw, ‘No iguana business, this time!’ ” Katherine said she liked it better with “this time” included.

       I took a poll after I arrived home, and so it is, “No Iguana Business, This Time.” I also told Katherine that she could read my short stories on AuthorsDen.com and that she could comment on them if she got a free reader membership. I was beyond delighted a few days later when I read Katherine’s encouraging review of my short story “H₂Oh!” posted on AuthorsDen.

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       That mission to the Bahamas with IDES during the third week of November 2019 was so fulfilling and fun that I’m going to do it again during the second week of February 2020—next week! This time, our team will be replacing roofs and hanging drywall.

       I had some difficulty with the muscles in my lower back during our first mission in the Bahamas. Not this time—for seven weeks, I’ve been run/walking three times a week for an hour or more with my good friend, Jeremiah. I’ll tell you more about this remarkable young man in another story. For now, I’ll just give you a few tidbits. Jeremiah has allowed me to be his mentor; moreover, I think he might be mentoring me as much as I am him. He is chomping at the bit to go on his first Christian mission. When I broached the idea of Jeremiah going on our mission to Nicaragua with Bobbie and me this coming August, he said, “I do want to go, but I need to learn a lot more about the Bible first.” So, Jeremiah is enthusiastically reciting scriptures with me in English and Spanish while we run/walk. What a blessing for both of us! And, I overheard Jeremiah this evening teaching his grandmother the scriptures he’d learned. That’s the coolest thing ever!

       I can hardly wait to sing praises to the Lord with those sweet people at New Life Church again, to restore more Bahamian homes, to eat another bowl of Sherek’s conch salad, to drink Goombay Punch at Pizza Hut in Freeport, and to walk barefoot on the beach in the early mornings collecting seashells. Bobbie has framed a picture showing Ken and me with our arms around each other’s shoulders, both of us beaming. He said he wished we could’ve spent a couple more hours together, so I’m prayerful that Ken’s wish comes true.