The Indigenous People's Technology & Education Center
Ocala, Florida and Nemompade, Ecuador

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Dear extended family,

Ginny and I want to thank you for caring for us during a very intense time in our lives. I would have said "a difficult time" but that is not really descriptive of what we are experiencing after the sudden death of our dear daughter Stephenie Raquel "Nemo" Saint. Instead, this is what we would call a "happy-sad time".

The Bible which we have chosen as our "rule of faith and conduct" says that we should give thanks in all things (1Th.5:18a). It also says, in one of my favorite passages, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart . in all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your ways"(Prov. 3:5-6). I have always wondered how you can give thanks when things happen that are so painful that they tear your heart apart. Now we know something about that. Ginny and I want to "acknowledge God" by telling you just a thumb-nail sketch of what we have been facing.

We have four children, the last of which is our only girl. She was tall with long blond hair; just turned 20 this month. She was an excellent student, never brought home anything but "A's". She was enrolled as a piano performance major at the Univ. of Florida so we got to see her every weekend until this last year which she spent traveling with a Christian music group called "Carpenter's Tools".

Steph's year of traveling ended a week ago, Sat. July 22, 2000. We got the gang together including one of our two brand-new granddaughters and went to the airport to meet her. We all made welcome home signs with her name so we could properly embarrass her as she came off the plane in Orlando. She played along, pretending she didn't know us but it was abundantly obvious that our little girl was glad to be home. We piled the family, including Tementa and Mincaye (they are both elders from the Huaorani tribe that killed dad Nate and his four buddies and with whom aunt Rachel, for whom Stephenie Raquel is partly named, spent so much of her life). They are here with us in Florida because I was invited to participate with them in "Amsterdam 2000", the world-wide conference for itinerant evangelists, the beginning of August.

We got home and started our welcome home party. All was well with the world, our little girl was back in our care. She was well and happy and terribly excited about her two nieces. Steph loved anything that was helpless or "down and out". Babies were # 1 on her short list of favorite things and God had just given us two with one on the way; just so this would be the happiest place in the world for her, I was sure. We were looking forward to having our intense, stimulating, up or down but never dull little girl in the middle of our lives after the only protracted absence ever.

What can I say, life was good, cup running over full, if it gets any better I'll explode, wonderful. Then, Steph got a headache. She started to cry, saying "it feels like I'm being hit in the head with a hammer". Ginny called me in to pray for her. I did, and she had a mild seizure and lost consciousness - all in about 5 minutes. I called 911 and rode in the ambulance with her. they intubated her. we were in a modern hospital within minutes and surely this couldn't be anything more than a letdown after an intense trip where she had lots of responsibilities and little sleep. the doctor wanted a CAT scan and then said. she is young and healthy but with injuries such as this; she is a very sick young lady. There was a major misunderstanding: she had suffered no injury, she just had a little Ibuprofen "take two pills and it's gone" headache.

That is when we started to learn about some of the promises that our "rule book" makes for those who submit it its author. I felt a sense of peace come over me that is neither natural or normal. The medical staff did the evaluations, hooked our little girls beautiful pure body up to the monitors and pumps but it was clear that God was in charge and we quickly relaxed. He took Steph., we liked to call her Dolly, sometime during the night. The medical staff very efficiently kept her pretty shell alive until Sunday after

noon. I dreaded every step of the long ordeal we had to go through:

1. We had to come to grips with the fact that she was dying while she showed no evidence of any injury.she just had a headache. I knew God could raise her up. I could picture her sitting up in the hospital bead and then screaming because some stranger had cut off her clothes and underwear and left her covered only with a flimsy hospital gown (it is amazing that hospitals have the best of everything but can't ever seem to get patient gowns that even pretend to be modest of fit, and are always old and threadbare). I could just see us all crying with joy. we'd have bought 3 gallons of Prestige's best burgundy cherry ice cream and would have finished the happiest and most grateful "welcome home party" ever.

I not only believed God could do it, but I even believed He would, if we asked Him to; but we couldn't. We knew He had a purpose and we have seen Him work through enough hurts and difficulties that we were confident that this was His doing. We knew we were seeing "Plan A" being acted out. If we asked God to give Steph back we would have moved over to "Plan B". Our hearts were being torn out by the roots; we were in agony of surprise and helplessness, but we felt a sense of peace and wellbeing that can only be understood by those who have experienced it.

It has always been my privilege to be Dolly's protector. Suddenly I was helpless. Ginny has always been Stephenie's very best friend and confidant, but Steph couldn't talk to her. And yet we both knew that God was not only taking her from us, He was taking her from a world full of people hurting people and ignoring God. Both of these hurt Stephenie, at least when it was professing Christians who were living "outside the bounds". I had to protect my little girl from this terrible thing that was taking her from us, I was desperate to do something, and then I saw that it was her perfect heavenly Father; the one who had given her to us for 20 years and 20 days who was taking her. I knew that she no longer had to feel responsible for the world's short-comings. She would no longer feel isolated in her desire to live a morally pure and spiritually responsible life in a world pressing in other directions.

In May, Steph wrote in her journal in response to a disappointment with a close friend; "I got angry and sad and hurt all over again. Sometimes the longing for complete security is so great that I can't hold back the tears. I know that complete fulfillment can only be found in God, but it's so hard to just give myself up to that. Maybe I am wrong and everyone else is right when they say It's ridiculous to feel the way I do (about the importance of moral purity). I can only pray that this is part of God's plan to strengthen me for something down the line. I want a life that's more than just being an ordinary woman going from day to day with no larger goal. I need something that will stimulate my mind and make me feel productive for God."

We believe Steph now has the answers to "why bad things happen to good people", why evil so often seems to triumph over good, why people choose their own way when it is so evident that the end of that road is emptiness. We are confident that she is completely secure in the presence of God's perfect and unconditional love. We are not disappointed that God has taken her. This is the end that we have been coaxing her toward for 20 precious years. We are just surprised by the timing and grieving for our loss. We would like to negotiate weekend visits, but we wouldn't have her back, we love her and our heavenly Father too much for that.

We dreaded the reality that God could and probably was taking her; that He didn't need our approval or cooperation to do so. But when He finally did, I felt an almost euphoric sense of well-being. I sensed that our children are like our players on a board game. The objective is to get them all "home". On the board there are numerous spaces that are dangerous; go to jail, go back some spaces, lose a turn and the like. My strategy in such a game is to pick one of my players at a time and get them home safe. As soon as we knew God was taking our dear sweet girl, he let me see that she was home safe.

2. Ginny and I have regularly taken a direction in raising our children that has put us out of sync with most of the world around us. We have grown quite independent of the standards and fads that have come and gone in our North American culture. In the process, I have grown protective of my position as head of this precious family of ours. I dreaded having to trust strangers to make life and death decisions for our little girl. On the other hand, I also dreaded the possibly negative reaction I would risk if I challenged the professional medical staff who were being required to make critical decisions on a fire drill schedule in the middle of the night. But God met our need before we knew it existed. The neurologist who attended us was of Latin origin and won our confidence immediately. One of our family members noticed the neurosurgeon, who was on call and came to evaluate the possibility of emergency surgery, on his knees in the chapel as we (not Steph) were hanging between emotional life and death.

The surgical intensive care nurses allowed us to shuttle family members between the family waiting room and Steph's critical care bedside with almost no limitations. As our family grew to fill the entire waiting room, it was impossible for us to differentiate between those who were family by the hospital standards and those who have become family through their incredible and selfless love for us. As each decision had to be made, I, who would normally and instinctively have felt a need to control the fate of my little girl and to protect her, felt perfectly at ease to entrust all the medical decisions to the medical staff.

< At Steph's bedside we felt a peace that passes understanding. In the SICU waiting room we sang "Holy Spirit you are welcome in this place" and we felt His presence in our hearts. The dread that we anticipated did not materialize. Instead, we achieved hugging status with a number of the SICU staff and Steph's first shift attending nurse came to her funeral along with his fiancee.

3. As news of Steph's condition began to come to us and we agonized over hope, not knowing whether to hold on or let go, I began to feel that her Heavenly Father was ready to take my sweet girl back for himself. I couldn't bear to let go but I didn't dare to hold on. Then I agonized over what to tell Ginny. I realized that even one wrong word at a time like this can drive a wedge between loved ones. My greatest agony then and now was to realize that my opportunity to transition from my primary role as "policeman" to that of "friend", was never going to come. I was convinced that I would never get to show her my soft side. And then, just as clearly as you are reading this fathers account of my heart wrenching grief, I felt God assuring me that all would be well.

I remembered Steph's last father's day card, sent to me just before she left Minnesota for Trinidad. She wrote, "I often tend to see the tough side of you, Pop and forget that you sometimes feel week and vulnerable too. It was so good for me to see the tender side of you - to see that your heart gets wounded and your eyes cry just like mine. Thank you so much for the example of Godliness that your life has been for me.no matter if my friends turned away or everyone else rejected me, I would still have love and acceptance at home. I need more than a father / daughter relationship with you. I want us to be friends. Not many others understand us and how we think, so we'd better stick together, huh?"

4. Can you imagine how I dreaded having the topic of organ donation brought up. I had only considered it in relation to my own body, and had a difficult time imagining signing my organs away to be used in strangers: a hundred times worse to think of a total stranger asking me to allow him to take parts of our lovely daughter while her heart was still beating and her beautiful body was still warm.

A stranger approached me in the SICU hallway and I knew who he was. But in the instant where I thought my heart would fail for sure, God suddenly opened my mind to a new thought. Steph who had taken such good care of her body would now be able to give a chance for life to several other people. My dread was replaced with an actual yearning to see her healthy organs go, possibly to someone else's daughter who was dying; possibly to someone who did not have the hope we have for true life after death. I just kept remembering Steph's comment when we were evaluating the cost and return of her spending a year traveling with her singing group. She kept saying "If just one person's life is changed, won't that be enough"?

The forms were endless; medications used?- "none". Not even birth control? Ginny heard this one and left Steph's bed long enough to tell him, "the only man Steph ever kissed was her Daddy". "How about recreational drugs?" - "no chance". I could tell that this man was not relishing the responsibility of asking us these questions with our daughter just a few feet away. I thought I could help him out. I realized that all parents must think their children are quite innocent and this man knew that few really were. I assured him, I know many parents don't know the personal and intimate activities their children are involved in. We have worked with young people for years and are realists, but with this young lady, and on the truth of her having lived a pure life, I would stake my own life.

The kind man looked at me differently after that. Either we were deluded and extremely naïve or we had a very different kind of relationship with a very special daughter! When his report came back he had added a very nice note; "your daughters body was a beautiful example of clean living". We were thankful for even this small opportunity to give a testimony, and I remembered again; "if just one person's life is changed, won't that be enough?"

5. I have often rebelled at the complexity of our society. In most parts of the world, when you die you just have to die. In Ecuador you have just 24 hours to bury your dead. Here, there are interminable decisions to make and I dreaded having to go through that. What funeral home to use? What cemetery? Metal or wood coffin? Prices range from $20,000 down to what I considered the stratosphere of $3,000. Do you want a vault with a single liner or a double liner, sealing or non-sealing? Even the outsides of the vaults are decorated, decorations you will never ever see. At I-TEC we could produce 5 complete dental operatories for the cost of one of the least expensive coffins. I could hardly stand it.

I had told Steph when we were in the jungles together, how much I liked aunt Rachel's plain plywood coffin made by one of the Mission Aviation Fellowship pilots; cost about $12. I told her that was what I wanted to be buried in and she told me she wanted the same. The only pine box available at the funeral home was a cremation box for several thousand dollars. Ginny took the matter out of my hands by telling me she wanted the oak one. At the funeral I was reminded that we aren't the only ones who are grieving over Stephenie. I would have preferred a plywood box of my own making, but it would not have satisfied the expectations of our enormous extended family. My heart was comforted once again.

5. As Stephenie slipped deeper and deeper into a coma, I mentioned that I kept imagining her sitting up and asking to go home. I knew that we would have been the most grateful people in the world and we would have had the rip-roaringest party ever. But that wasn't God's plan. He took our Dolly from us but He gave us such a sense of well being and reminded us so much of His deep love, not only for Stephie but also for us, that after we walked her body down to have her final surgery, we came home and had a party anyway. That would seem almost morbid, and I would hesitate to mention it if I didn't know that many of you who will read this have felt different remedies that our loving Heavenly Father metes out to His children when they go through troubles and trials.

Ginny and I like to sing a song that has been coming to mind very frequently these last few days. It goes like this, "We are so blessed by the gifts from Your hand, we just can't understand why you loved us so much. We are so blessed take what we have to bring, take it all everything, Lord we give it to you"

6. It wasn't what happened to our sweet daughter that caught us by surprise and caused us to grieve. It was the timing of it all. One minute she was walking around the house carrying her beautiful two month old niece, and inserting herself into every activity and every conversation - she was inserting herself back into our lives in typical Stephenie, full speed ahead, fashion. Five minutes later she was crying out in pain and then lost consciousness in Ginny's arms while the family accompanied me in praying for God to relieve her headache so she could enjoy the excitement of our welcome home celebration.

There was nothing to remind us that she wasn't really "home". We sing "this world is not my home, I'm just a passing through". We believe it but our sense of reality is warped. We believe we are just passing through but we count on a slow passage. Life isn't a gift, it is a loan. God called his loan in and we were temporarily caught off guard.

Consider His timing with me for a minute. If this was an arterial venal malformation, as the doctors suspect, she might have died at any time since she was born. We started to be more thankful for 20 years and 20 days. On the way home from the airport we stopped to pick up Ginny's car and Steph wanted to drive. She had Ginny and our dear daughter-in-law and our brand new granddaughter with her. What if she had passed out then and they had all been killed? What if it had happened a day earlier and she had been in Minnesota? We would have spent hours on the plane wondering who was taking charge, wondering if everything possible was being done for her. If it had been two days before that she would have died in Trinidad and would likely have had to be buried before we could even have gotten to her.You can imagine our relief and thanksgiving to a loving and gracious heavenly Father who brought her back to her temporal home and her earthly mother and father, brothers and sisters-in-law and friends, before taking her to her "real" home. "God is good all the time, all the time God is good"!

7. I wanted to take Steph home from the hospital so we could celebrate. God took her but He made it possible for us to go celebrate anyway. God took our Dolly home sometime early Sunday morning. On Tuesday evening we invited family and friends to the funeral home to see her body. In our "death denying age" we call it "a viewing", I guess. Well, this was more of a singing than a viewing; or maybe I should call it a singing and praying, hugging. They gave us the chapel at the funeral home because I had asked if we could have a piano. We must have had over 300 people come by to spend time with us.

We did a fair bit of crying but we did a lot more singing and praying and hugging. I had an opportunity to apologize to an old friend for a grievance I had held against him for years. That was the first memorial I wanted to offer in Steph's memory. God opened up the door.

Dear old grandfather Mincaye, one of the men who killed Steph's grandfather, looked at Stephenie's body lying in the casket and asked: "Did the doctodo do something to hurt her?" I realized that in this plastic, fantastic world that is so radically different from his jungle home he must have thought we had taken Steph to the hospital in the truck with all the lights, as part of some ceremony or pageant. The next thing he knew, his "granddaughter" was lying in a casket, dead.

I felt terrible that I hadn't explained more completely and tried to explain that everything that was happening was new to us too. Nemo (the Huaorani gave Stephenie Raquel aunt Rachel's tribal name which means "Star") has gone to heaven. All we know is that Wangongui, the creator, wanted her to come.

Mincaye understood. He said "let's talk to God". First he began to speak to all of the foreigners gathered with us in the chapel. "We are all going to God's place when we die. I am an old man now and I will be going soon. We must all walk God's trail very carefully so we don't get lost, then, following very carefully we will see Nemo and Nemo-woodi (Aunt Rachel, woodi, who has already died) and we will see Babae's father (Babae is what the tribe calls me) and Guikita-woodi and he went on to name the growing list of people that he knew to be in heaven.

Twenty eight precious young people who have been part of the youth group that met in our home while our four children were growing up came to the viewing and memorial services. What a wonderful opportunity to tell them that the theory about God meeting us where we are and healing all our hurts if we will trust Him, wasn't just theory.

At the memorial service we wanted to have a celebration. The funeral director said it would tend to be solemn no matter what we planned. We didn't want to do solemn, however, we wanted to acknowledge God's goodness and love for us. We would have been happy to just have had a few family and friends. Instead, Highlands Baptist church was packed with family from Minnesota, Michigan and North Carolina. Friends flew in from all over the country. One of Steph's special friends from her singing group came all the way from Hungary.

Words cannot express the humbling gratitude we feel for the incredible outpouring of love and sympathy we have been immersed in. We didn't get to take Steph home to have that party of gratitude that I could almost feel, I wanted it so badly. Instead God took His little Dolly home and we went back to where she has spent so many years of her life and had two wonderful celebrations, remembering the little girl that has and still holds such a huge place in our hearts and the loving heavenly Father whose timing was so perfect.

At the very end of our celebration ceremony, dear friends of ours from West Virginia sang an old family favorite of ours. "See the bright lites shine, it's just about home time, I can see my Father standing at the do-oo-or. This world's been a wilderness, I'm ready for deliverence, Lord I've never been this homesick befo-oo-or." Amen! Everyone was singing, we were clapping and there was a little foot stomping going on. I was waiting for someone, overcome with joy to start dancing in the aisles. I would have joined them. My heart that was breaking in grief was bursting with joy at the same time. Go figure!

8. Stephenie's career choice was to be the best wife and mother ever. She promised us nine grandchildren. She was studying piano so she could help support her anticipated large family if the need arose. It's OK that she won't get a chance to be a wife and mother. The goal of "best" was virtually unattainable because God gave Steph (and Shaun and Jaime and Jesse) a mother and me a wife that itis hard to imagine she could have beat!

But he did give two of the sisters in law that she loved, babies, and her third sister is pregnant. You would have thought all this was happening to Steph, herself, she was so excited. And God gave Steph the hope of romance. She wouldn't date; told all the boys that expressed an interest that they would have to come talk to me first. I have a feeling she told a few of them that Ginny and I would have to come along. One young man actually came up and asked me if that was true. I couldn't remember putting quite that stringent a requirement on Steph, but I assured him it was. He told me to expect a visit.

At the graveside, Stephenie's special friend from Hungary sang "How Great Thou Art" in Hungarian. He was in love with our Dolly. Another young man said after they lowered her casket into the grave, "everything I ever dreamed of in a girl was just buried in that hole". Our hearts go out to the many others who will have to regroup their hopes and dreams to conform with what we know now is God's plan for Stephenie. "Heaven is a wonderful pla-ace. Filled with glory and gra-ace. I want to see my Savior's face, and Steph's, and Dad Nate's, and Grandpa Jim's and old Gluikitas and aunt Rachel's and.... Heaven is a wonderful, Heaven is glorious, Heaven is a wonderful place!!"

9. As we made funeral arrangements I found myself wishing that we could offer our local community in Ocala a glimpse of how God can make devastating sorrow sweet by telling them about Steph's life and commitments. I knew there was no real news in the "passing of one young lady", no matter how lovely and loved she was. I yearned for the opportunity for her death to "make a difference in just one life" here where she has spent most of her life (when we weren't living in Africa or the Amazon jungles).

At the fellowship dinner after Steph's burial, the pastor handed me his cell phone and said it was someone from our local paper. "Do you want to talk to her?" he asked. My mind raced to try to figure out if this could possibly be leading up to the fulfillment of that small wish.

The reporter came over to our house with two photographers that evening. We had a house full of family and friends. It wasn't very convenient, but it held promise for an answer to my wish. Before interviewing us, the reporter told us that she knew Stephenie. In 1992 she had been a substitute teacher for Steph's class. The class gave her a very difficult time, but she wanted us to know that Stephenie and one other girl had gone out of their way to obey her. Steph, she said, had been very upset with her classmates and let it be known. Her attitude didn't permeate the class or result in any such happy ending but it was a comforting reminder that our little girl had a tender heart for people who were hurting. Even at that tender age, about 11 or 12, she was willing to stand against the popular flow to do what she thought was right. What a sweet coincidence for God to arrange that the very teacher that Ginny had talked about at the memorial service turned out to be the reporter that came to write about Stephenie's life and death.

I believe that Stephie's willingness to stand alone for what was right but unpopular would have caused her to suffer a great deal of rejection in life. I am willing to face it myself, but it was hard to think of my little girl suffering through it. She wanted so badly to be liked, but compromise was not only not tempting, to her, it was virtually impossible.

As the reporter interviewed us, along with Tementa and Mincaye, we were interrupted over and over by telephone calls and people stopping by to console us. I saw the discombobulated notes and thought it would be impossible for anyone to write an accurate article from them, much less one with heart.

Friday morning; not in the religion section on Saturday, but right on the front page of the Star Banner which is owned by the New York Times, was the article. Surrounded by two other articles talking about death, one showing a woman nearly collapsing from grief over a loved one killed in the Concord, was a picture of our Stephenie being hugged by two beautiful young girls in Trinidad. Even the fact that they happened to be from a different race comforted my heart. I have yearned for the Black community here in Ocala to know that we are a color-blind family. Here was evidence on the very front page of our paper.

Just one more blessing for our happy sad hearts.

Summary:

We grieve because we loved Stephenie with all our hearts, but "we grieve not as those who are without hope" (1 Th.4:13b) We seem strong but it is God holding us steady that people see. At first we were afraid to move about, worried that we might fall out of his arms. Then we realized that we were not just cradled in His arms, but that he had a hold on us that neither "tribulation, or distress. or any other thing" can overcome.

"He giveth more strength when the burdens grow greater." Most of the parents we have seen these last days wondered how we could face what God has dealt us. They do not understand because they haven't yet felt His loving arms holding them in this position. We hadn't either. But He came to us and lifted us up, just in time.

"God works in mysterious ways His wonders to perform. He plants his feet upon the seas and rides upon the storm. His purposes will ripen fast, unfolding every hour, the bud may have a bitter taste but sweet will be the flower. Blind unbelief is sure to err and search his ways in vain, God is His own interpreter, He will make it plain" William Cowper.

Many Christians are taught to believe that the difference between us and those who don't "believe", is that we have only joy and they have only pain. We know that isn't true. But is there a real difference?, of course there is. The difference is that their joy is superficial because it cannot last beyond death, but their pain is fundamental. It will never end. For those of us who know Christ as Savior and Lord, our joy is fundamental and our pain is superficial. We are feeling it right now! It washes over us in waves and we feel we won't make it back to the surface; but just in time God gives us a boost with His powerful but gentle arms and we break the surface to see that the sun is shining and the sea is calm even while the storm rages around us.

We say with the Psalmist in 116:7 - 15; "Return to your rest, O my soul, For the Lord has dealt bountifully with you. For Thou hast rescued my soul from death. My eyes from tears, My feet from stumbling. I shall walk before the Lord in the land of the living. I believed when I said "I am greatly afflicted." I said in my alarm, "All men are liars."

"What shall I render to the Lord for all His benefits toward me? I shall lift up the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the Lord. I shall pay my vows to the Lord, oh may it be in the presence of all His people (and it has been). Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His godly ones!"

We willingly give back to God the wonderful daughter He so generously loaned to us for a season. We thank Him for the 3 sons plus 3 daughters-in-law and two sweet babies He has given us with another on the way. When I had candy it was just like Steph to take it and then distribute one to me and one to herself; another to me and another to herself. I can almost hear God saying "eight plus for you, one for me". We'll stick with God's plan. Plan "A".

Thank you all for your love and for your concern,

Stephen, Ginny, (Shaun, Anne and Elizabeth, Jaime, Jessica and ?, Jesse, Jenni Joy and little Jessica Joy)