Even though I've asked thee many times, and thou hast answered, I've never understood. What was it? What word did God speak to thee? What purpose did He bestow upon thee that thou wouldst depart the dusty red plains of the upper Volta, leaving thy father and thy mother and thy people for the bewildering promise of sinful America?
I know that the departure rent thy noble heart asunder. I know thy tears flowed like Portland rain when thou didst contemplate the life left behind. And yet, thou didst come.
And here was I: clumsy, angst-ridden man. Good-hearted, yes, but half-defeated and foolish, foolish, foolish. Stumbling along, blindly, knowing nothing, hoping for the best.
I did not choose thee. Such effrontery is not among my many faults. It was thou who chose me. And in so doing, breathed new purpose into my life.
Perhaps thy reasons for coming are between God and thee, another mystery that must remain beyond my ken. So be it.
My only hope, on this, our third anniversary, is that this humble, well-intended but unmarked life that I offer thee can fulfill the promise that He made, can assuage the anguish of thy sacrifice.
All my love, now and forever.