Today, April 23, 2026, I am celebrating my sister, Cindy, and her beautiful life. Happy 60th birthday, Cindy Lou!

The heavy tropical rain beat like a drum on the tin roof of the school building. The rhythmic ratta-tat-tat drowned out all other classroom noises while it soothed my spirit and fed my daydreams. 

My first-grade teacher raised her voice. “School is over for the week, children,” she said, “and I have some exciting news for Debbie Jones. Your dad is here, waiting for you in the office!”

I jumped out of my seat, threw my hands above my head, and shouted with glee. “Yippee! My Daddy’s here! Yippee! Yippee!” After shoving my papers into my desk drawer, I skipped past my friends in the aisle as they cheered, then raced out the door and down the hall.

Just before the big front screen door, I turned into the office. There sat Daddy, and next to him stood my little brothers, Mark and Grant. We bunched together and I held them tight. A minute later, Larry arrived. After he hugged us all, Grant clutched his hand and wouldn’t let go.

As we left the office, Dad said, “We’re all staying together in a bungalow at Miango Rest Home, right next to KA. Your sister Cindy Louise, was born this morning, and tomorrow I’ll drive you into Jos to see her.”

I clapped my hands. “I can’t wait to hold my baby sister!”

Larry picked up little Grant and hugged him tightly. “I’m so glad we get to leave the dorm and live with you for three weeks at MRH.”

The Next Best Thing to Home

In the dorm, I stuffed clothes into my suitcase and giggled with my roommates. “I get to live at MRH for now, but I’ll come over for school on Monday,” I said. “The best news of all is, I have a baby sister!”

At dinner we sat together at a long table with another family. The MRH dining room was much smaller than KA’s and felt more home-like. When I told Dad that I didn’t want to eat my peas, he asked me to take three bites, then he scraped the rest onto his plate. At KA, we got into trouble if we tried to give our food away. My tummy relaxed for the first time since I came back for school.

In our two-room bungalow, we got into our jammies, and Dad read us a Bible story from the favorite book we used at Egbe. A gentle rain started outside, and he tucked the covers tightly around me. He kissed the top of my head. I’m so glad to be here. It feels like I am home.

Stormy Beginnings

The next morning, I woke to the steady sound of rain on the roof and the musty smell of wet earth. I dressed quickly, and we raced to the Big House for toast and orange juice. The boys had porridge too, but Dad said I didn’t have to eat it.

When we were done, Larry, Mark, Grant, and I waited on the front porch. Soon Dad drove up with the borrowed, blue VW bug, and we climbed in.

After a few minutes watching the windshield wipers flap back and forth, Larry piped up from the back seat. “I’ve been to Jos before. I was born there and so was Mark. But Debbie was born in America.”

I pointed out my window at the low hills and giant rock formations that jutted out of the flat plain. “Is that the one called Camel Rock? Those three big rocks on top of each other sure look like a camel to me.”

Dad glanced quickly and nodded, then focused on dodging potholes on the muddy road. “It looks like we’re coming to a gully that crosses the road,” he said as we pulled up to the embankment.

My fingers gripped the dashboard. “The uncle told me that sometimes when it rains there is too much water in the stream. Is it safe for us to go through, Daddy?”.

Can We Make It Through?

“I’m sure we can make it.” Dad inched the car forward to the edge of the gully. “The water doesn’t look like it’s too deep.”

My heart started pounding as I peered over the dashboard and out the front window. About three feet below us rushed a four-foot-wide stream of swirling, murky reddish-brown water. Dad slowly let out the clutch, and the little VW bug crept toward the edge of the bank then rolled down the steep slope.

When the front wheels reached the water, the car jolted and stopped.

Dad stomped on the gas pedal, but we didn’t move. He revved the engine and tried to go backward, but the car didn’t budge. He closed his eyes and sighed.  “I think we’re stuck in the mud.”

Just then a lorry arrived from the other side. Five tall Nigerian men climbed out of the truck and called out to Dad.

“Do you need help, Sir?”

“Yes, please! We are stuck.”

Surrounding the car, the strong Nigerians pushed and grunted. And they pushed and grunted some more. Before long, we crossed the swirling water, rolled up and over the ridge, and our little car settled onto the road. The men laughed and shook Dad’s hand through the open window.

“Nagodi. Nagodi da yawa.” Dad said, using his best Hausa to thank them. 

As we continued the slow, winding, rainy drive, I turned in my seat to see how the boys were doing. Little Grant looked cozy, nestled between his older brothers. “Remind me about when Grant was born,” I said to Larry.

The Best Birthday Gift Ever

My older brother grinned and threw his arm across the little guy’s shoulders.  “He surprised us and came a whole month early, and Mom didn’t have time to fly up to Jos. He was born right there at Egbe. On my sixth birthday.”

Larry tickled Grant’s tummy. The two-year old laughed and squirmed in his seat.

“You were the best birthday present I ever got.” Larry smiled at Grant.

After another half hour or so, the rocks, brush, and hills gave way to city life. Houses with mud walls and tin roofs appeared along the roadside. Soon the view out my window was crowded with small houses of gray cement blocks, some painted white, some left bare.

Lots of cars and lorries crammed together in the streets, honking, like goats bleating in a pen. People walking or riding on bicycles bustled along both sides of the road and even cut across through the traffic.

Wearing short-sleeved button-up shirts and loose, flowing pants, Nigerian men rode bicycles to their farms or shops. Women on their way to market balanced heavy loads on their heads. Some carried firewood tied with rope, and other ladies had pans filled with bananas, mangoes, or smelly, dried fish.

A smiling, regal-looking woman, dressed in a bright orange-and-yellow blouse and wrap-around skirt, called to us, “Please, Suh. Buy my mangoes. Dey be sweet-sweet.”

Dad smiled, then shook his head and waved politely. He looked back at the rutted road. “We’re almost to the hospital.”

A Very Happy Surprise

When we arrived at the front steps of the one-story hospital, Dad pulled up the brake, and turned to me. “How are you feeling, Debbie?”

I took a deep breath and pressed my tummy. “I’m fine. Since we drove so slowly, I didn’t get carsick.” I opened my door. “I want to go in and see baby Cindy!”

We ran through the downpour into the waiting room, and our wet shoes made muddy puddles on the tiled floor. I scrunched up my nose at the antiseptic smell.

“Welcome, Mr. Jones!” A tall nurse in a white dress and cap shook Dad’s hand. Her eyes twinkled. “We have a happy surprise for you.” 

She led us down a hallway with walls of bright yellow and pushed open a door on the right. The five of us crowded through behind her. 

Mom sat propped against two pillows in her bed, a welcoming smile on her face. In her arms she held a bundle of cloth. Peeking out from the blankets was the wrinkled, pinkish-red face of our new baby sister.

The nurse helped us take turns sitting in a big chair and holding Cindy. As I looked into the tiny brown eyes, I felt a tidal wave of love wash over me. I breathed in the sweet smell of baby powder, and my heart flip-flopped with awe at the incredible, tiny, bald new human in my arms.

Eventually, the nurse took my baby. “I’m going to put her to sleep in the nursery. Do you want to see where that is?”

Dad and the boys followed, but I stayed behind with Mommy.

“What do you think of your new sister?” Mom held her hands out to me.

My Own Little Baby

I stood on my tiptoes at her bedside, laid my head on her chest, and snuggled into her neck. “I love Cindy Lou, and I want to hold her for an hour.”

Mom patted my hand. “You’ll get to hold her lots of times next week when I bring her out to Miango.”

After a while, Dad returned and said to Mom. “The rain stopped, and I think it’s time for us to get back to MRH. I want to do the drive while there’s plenty of daylight.”

When we got to the gully, Dad exclaimed, “Praise God! There’s not much water left, and look! Someone placed two planks across the bottom. It must have been those helpful men. Now we can cross easily.”

I let out the breath I had been holding. “Oh, Daddy, I’m so glad! I was worried.”

Rays of sunlight shone through the storm clouds on the rest of the drive. God seemed to be celebrating with us. When we arrived at MRH, we heard the bell ring for supper. 

Once back in our bungalow, fed and happy, we took turns in the bathtub. Finally, we all sat on Daddy’s big bed while he read us another favorite Bible story.

After the prayer, Dad tucked me in bed. “That was a scary drive,” I said. “But I’m so happy, Daddy! I get to stay at MRH with you and the boys for two whole weeks, and Mommy will bring Cindy soon.”

Pulling the covers up to my chin, I said, “I wish we could live here forever.” 

I sighed happily as Daddy turned out the light. “I’ll remember my sister’s birthday for the rest of my life! April 23 is my favorite day of the year.”

Looking Back at that Time

Adjacent to KA was the Miango Rest Home, known to the community as MRH. It was a conference center as well as a rest and recreation venue with single family bungalows and a common dining area. Nigerians, missionaries, and other expatriates came throughout the year to rest. My parents usually took a two week vacation at MRH in April, which broke up that long spring semester for us kids.

Living with my family in the cottage was heaven on earth. I loved eating meals together and especially enjoyed afternoon teatime in the MRH dining room. It was a relief to have a choice over what I put on my plate. At breakfast, especially, I loved starting my day with the ability to choose from what was offered. 

Because there were fewer rules and limitations at MRH, I felt freed from the tight band of fear that clenched around my chest every day at school.

This family vacation in April of my first-grade year, coincided with the birth of Cindy. Larry was in second grade, Mark was 5 ½, and Grant was 2. My dad, his hands full with four kids, must have had a challenging time keeping track of us. I don’t think it was a relaxing vacation for him!

I often wished to have my parents move up to school, perhaps as dorm parents. Or, as teachers, and we would live with them in teacher’s row. Better yet, I wanted them to work on the MRH compound, my favorite spot in the world. One friend, Lynda Brown, had her parents living there in a cute stone cottage called The Manse. How I envied her.

What I Know Now

After my mom and dad returned to Egbe each spring, I was once again forbidden to step over the imaginary line where in the tarmac path that marked the border between the KA and MRH compounds. When their car pulled away, the gate to love and laughter clanged shut.

Writing these stories is slowly bringing these happy childhood memories to mind. But even the fun times and words of comfort weren’t enough to completely soothe the ongoing pain of separation from family and the rigid structure of dormitory life. The  unresolved grief from these losses stayed with me throughout much of my adult life.

I believe that God kept me safe many times. He brought relief when the pain grew too great. I’m glad I had my siblings nearby, even though I didn’t get to see them very often during the school year.

God’s gift of a baby sister was a needed break from a tough school situation. Her birth brought me hope. I saw there was still innocence in the world and that happy surprises could show up at any time. 

Even though we’re seven years apart in age, Cindy has become a dear confidant and life-long friend.

Link It to Your Life

When have you felt insecure and unsafe? What kept you alive and sane?

Looking back, who helped you or had a kind word for you?

What special gift did God provide for you?

Father, thank you that you are my security, and I can find rest in you. Even in times of trouble you’ve kept me safe and I can look to the future with hope.

You will be secure, because there is hope; you will look about you and take your rest in safety.
(Job 11:18 NIV)