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By David Alexander
Artwork by Tim Davis
During May and June of 2006, Mrs. Alma Henderson, age 86, visited Kaohsiung and spoke at many venues around Taiwan regarding the struggles and triumphs in her life. Mrs. Henderson was born poor in the U.S. in 1920 and lived through the Great Depression of the 1930s deprived of the opportunity to get a proper education. Her drive to get beyond her limitations, her accomplishments and the source of her confidence are an inspiration to all who seek to triumph over adversity.
It was no crime to be poor in Milwaukee in the 1920s. Few people were well off; even fewer were rich. Life was simple. Her papa was an ethnic German immigrant from the Ukraine. The close-knit community of Germans shared a culture and a faith. The elder members could talk about the "Old Country" and the children knew the Lake Michigan shore communities. There wasn't much that brought a 'foreign flavor' into such a life. Alma's family worshipped at a nearby Baptist church. Once, some missionaries who worked in the Philippines came to speak there. Telling stories of far away exotic places, they mentioned the needs for basic medical personnel, and challenged their listeners to volunteer as helpers. Alma felt she was too young to raise her hand, but the seed of an idea was planted in her heart, a seed that would sprout much later.
There wasn't much that her papa and mama could do by way of family planning then, so there were six kids in the house. Alma, the only daughter, was in the middle of a pack of boys. It was no crime to be poor, but it was a struggle. Her papa worked as a builder. When the depression hit, construction jobs disappeared. Eventually the family home was lost to the bank. Reaching back to his agrarian experience, her papa pulled up stakes and resettled the family on a fruit farm across the big lake, in Michigan.
The First Triumph
The entire family worked the farm, but keeping with tradition, Alma and her mama had the additional responsibility of housekeeping for six males who saw no reason to lift a finger in performance of "women's work." School was not for "poor country girls", so Alma dropped out after grade eight. By the time she was 18 she saw no future for herself there, and went back to Milwaukee where she lived for three years doing whatever work could be found. She saved her money, eventually amassing what was a fortune then for a young woman: US $900.
The idea of becoming a missionary, planted so long ago, remained with her. She knew she had to do something about her lack of education though. Through church contacts she learned of a school in the hills of Georgia that would accept her as a non-traditional student. So in 1941 she boarded a train to Toccoa Falls, a place she had never been.
The Second Triumph
Georgia's educational standards, being flexible and the school adaptable, allowed Alma to make up most of her educational deficiencies by examination. She got her high school diploma, properly certified by the state government, in little time. The money she brought with her, plus what she was able to earn working in the college infirmary, paid her way through college. She was ready to graduate by the time the WWII ended in 1945.
The Third Triumph
An entrepreneur in a nearby community ran a flying school. He was taking advantage of the fact that most pilots were away at war, so he trained aviators for domestic jobs. Thinking that she might eventually have to know how to fly a plane in missionary service, Alma said to herself, "Oh how neat, I'll take some flying lessons . "
Those lessons could not be covered by examinations alone. Ground school and practice flights could not be skipped. Finally the day came for Alma's solo flight. Previously she had always gone up with an instructor who could take over if she got into trouble. But today she would be aloft with nobody other than God. Speaking of the experience more than 60 years later, she said, "We didn't have things like modern planes; just instruments, not even a radio."
After making a thorough pre-flight check of the plane, Alma sat in the cockpit and listened as the engine roared to life in a cloud of smoky exhaust. When all instruments indicated that it was safe to roll and her instructor gave permission, the blocks were removed from the wheels and Alma moved a lever. She slowly taxied the aircraft to the end of the short runway and turned its nose into the wind.
As with all takeoffs, this one called for an eventual safe landing. She said a silent prayer, opened the throttle, and began accelerating toward the tree-line at the far end of the landing strip. Takeoff was dangerous because on the runway was a point where, if she hadn't yet taken off, she wouldn't be able to stop before rolling into the trees. Because that point varies with the speed of the headwind and even air temperature, it wasn't indicated by a line painted on the ground. She would have to determine where it lay on this day all on her own. Hurling down the bumpy runway, she eventually judged that takeoff speed had been reached, so she pulled back on the stick and the plane took to the air. She skimmed over the barrier fence and the trees, as safely aloft as a small plane could be.
She was to fly a pre-set course to a landmark, turn around, return to the airfield, make another 180 degree turn, and land in the same direction as she had taken off. She had done it several times before, but on each occasion there had been an instructor to be her savior if things weren't quite right. Now it was her savior to who rode as her co-pilot. Alma firmly believed that Jesus was really in control, and her own role was that of co-pilot, not only of the plane, but of the very life she led as well.
She was snapped out of her reverie by a small patch of turbulence. Looking down, she noticed the turning point and worked the stick and pedals to come cleanly around and head back to where she began. Passing the airfield, she took note of the windsock hanging from a pole near the maintenance shed. The wind, she was pleased to note, had not shifted. So long as all the instruments continued to give true readings and she remained true to what she had been taught in ground school and in her other training, it would be a routine landing. How similar, she mused, to Bible school, Christian living, and faith in Christ.
Having gone far enough past the runway on her return trip to make another clean bank and turn, she proceeded to circle and line up for a landing. Easing back on the throttle, she dropped in altitude, coming closer to the treetops and the crops growing in the surrounding fields. She noticed a cow, which, accustomed to planes, ignored her. Manipulating the controls, she came ever closer to the ground at the end of the strip. If she dropped too much speed, the plane would not make it over the barrier fence, and though she would eventually come to a stop on the runway, it might mean carrying a strand or two of barbed wire on the landing gear as well.
Alma was always respectful of the property of others, and did not want to leave so much as a scratch on this plane that belonged to her trusted teacher. She was as particular about that as about her own life, which was, as she neared the ground, also in peril. Another prayer passed her lips as she rendered this, too, was up to God.
But things went well. The wind was right, her skill matched the situation, and God was in control. Trees passed below, the fence was cleared, and the ground rushed up to meet the wheels of the plane. After a gentle bounce, as soon as she felt herself on terra firma once again, she cut back the engine's speed and slowed to the end of the runway. Smartly turning the plane around, she taxied back to the maintenance shed, to her teacher, to her friends and to a private pilot's license. All that remained was to prepare her heart and soul for the triumphs to come.
David Alexander is the International Students' Advisor at the Tainan Theological College and Seminary
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