We stopped back at the town to pick up our friend from her sister’s before making the journey back to Kathmandu. We left late in the afternoon to avoid the traffic jams. We arrived back at our hotel around 1 am. I shall be keeping in contact with these dear friends and praying for their ministry. I hope to see them again. They have such servant’s hearts for God and the Great Commission.

By the time we had repacked our pads and toiletry gifts into various bags, it was closer to 2 am. We woke up at 5 to leave at 6 am. We hired a driver in another Jeep. We picked up our contact, a young lady who grew up in a village in the mountains.

It was this village we were going to. The drive was about 4-5 hours and in a different direction, we we got to see different terrain. Lots of tiered rice paddy fields with women in their bright magenta and red saris with baskets on their backs. Many long suspension bridges with a timely figure walking across making for a very picturesque photo.

Much obliged! Much of the road was rocks, mud and extremely loose rock. Again all my jiggly bits got a good workout.

We arrived at the bottom of the mountain to be told that is wasn’t suitable for vehicles. Our driver proceeded anyway. Our contact said she normally walks up, which takes 2-2.5 hours. It’s a hikers’ path. Extremely loose rock. Just a little wider than our jeep.

We ascended and ascended. Up, up and around steep, sharp bends. What would we do if there was another vehicle going down? There wasn’t enough room for a bicycle to pass by. The drop was sheer. At some points the Jeep tire was barely half a foot (20cm) from the edge. I do not exaggerate. The drive was quiet, very quite.

Some villagers along the way told us to go back; it wasn’t possible to go up to where we needed to go. But we went up. I prayed and prayed for safety. My friend saw a few vehicles that had fallen off the edge.

As much as I say I give everything back to God, as much as I can say I submit to His will, I wasn’t ready for Him will to bring me home to heaven that day. I held my husband and son very tightly in my hand.

At one point I said screw these pads. We could have left them at the bottom of the mountain and let the ladies come down to get them. It isn’t worth this. And God said, is the Gospel worth it? Isn’t sharing His gift of salvation with these women worth it?

I felt Jesus’ hand over the Jeep guiding it around the path and angels standing in line against the edge.

When at last I put my feet on ground, I asked the driver if he had done this journey before. He said no, and he wouldn’t do it again. I think he may go back to his boss and get the small print on his contract changed after this trip. Even our friend looked a little shaken after the drive.

After some sincere thanks given to God, we headed up a little hike to the church at the top of the mountain. It was filled with women and some younger girls. We did our presentation and shared God’s love for us in His Son’s sacrifice for our sin.

Then we all sang Jesus Loves Me in Nepali and English. I’m amazed to find God everywhere. Even at the top of a mountain, in remote Nepal.

I know He is everywhere: the earth and stars testify His greatness. But to worship Him in that moment was glorious and I’ll treasure it.

As we made our way back in the Jeep, I had much more peace and assurance in my heart. My fears and doubts pale in comparison to our mighty Lord and His ability to protect.

Of course we were in His hands, of course. It helped that our driver now being on the side closest to the edge, hugged the mountain side with such intensity if I’d rested my elbow on the rolled down window, the rock would have grazed it.

I'll be sharing our next day in Nepal with you soon!

Evelyn

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