She did not die. The Lord had a work for her. When fully recovered, a wild desire took possession of her to look again upon the face of her husband. She must go to the United States, his home. She might find him, he might forgive her, or, joyful possibility, he might change. She could not change, but she must see him once more. Disposing of her small property, she started on her unknown way, and after a dreary journey arrived—a stranger in a strange land. Wearily she traversed the cities mid towns, till courage and purse were well-nigh spent. The search proved fruitless, and her heart was sore and almost rebellious. Faint and ready to perish—did some one speak her name? "Child, come unto me, I will give you rest." And then Juana's heart leaped, and she answered quickly, "Master." Then were her eyes opened, and she knew that the Lord was with her, knew, too, that she had again been setting up in her heart a clay idol in his place. When she sorrowfully sought forgiveness, he showed the "vividness of His mercy," and gave her not only comfort, but an overcoming faith which enabled her to lay herself and her husband at his feet with, "Thy will be done."
In loving submission she asked now, "What wilt Thou have me to do?" And for answer came the thought of her country in bonds of Romanism and idol worship. Her heart yearned over its darkness and misery, but what could she do for it now, far away in a strange land, with very little money left? Soon, however, the divine plan began to unfold itself! As she walked the city street one day and passed a church, the door stood invitingly open, and the sound of singing reached her ear. Juana was always attracted by music. As other ladies were passing in she followed and took a seat among them. It proved to be a woman's missionary meeting. After the hymn came reports and papers on different subjects. Some of these were very long and dull, and read in such low tones that she understood scarcely nothing of what was said; but then, the faces of those good women rested her, and she was sure it was a good place to be. Besides, they sang often, and that was sweet, and then, they prayed. Ah! Now she felt at home, she could understand that. After prayer, a lady spoke in clear, distinct tones a few words about Mexico. She did not read, she talked. Her sentences were not long and fine, her words were short and simple, and Juana comprehended them. She listened as if spell-bound, and then forgetting all else but her commission and her country, stood up and with downcast eyes and timid tones, said, "Ladies, Mexico is my dear country. Let me say one little word for her?" It was only a few sentences, in broken words, but never was appeal more effective as she pleaded with them to "send help now, for they are dying every day, and they know not Christ Jesus at all."
Then, half-frightened at what she had done, she sank into her seat. But the ladies begged her to go on, to talk as long as she would, persuading her to come up to the front. At first the consciousness of so many eyes fastened upon her was confusion, but presently, forgetting everything else, she told them the simple story of her conversion. The eloquent face and vivid words, with pretty foreign accent, as she described her despair and her joy, stirred the hearts of those women to their depths. What a fair field for work was Mexico if gems such as this young stranger were hidden away there.
The fire thus kindled rapidly spread. Juana went from church to church, and the tide of enthusiasm rose high, gifts flowed in, and many hearts turned warmly to the "land of the sun," as this young wife, a miracle of God's grace, told the tale of his redeeming love, and in broken, eager words, pleaded with tears for "my dear Mexico."
Gladly would these Christians have sent her through the land that by this means the hearts of many of her Christian sisters might be reached and moved to lay upon the altar themselves or their treasures.
The Master, though, had other work for Juana. He had her return to her native country, and in her own tongue tell her own people the good news, and she obeyed, glad that He counted her worthy to do this work for Him. She came out poor and friendless. She went back laden with treasures; means to carry on the work, and followed by the prayers and loving farewells of hosts of God's people.
To-day in her musical mother tongue, Juana in her own fair city, tells the glad story, and hungry souls are hanging on her words. While she works her prayer goes up that Paul may become "a new creature in Christ Jesus," and that the glad day will dawn when he shall come and work by her side. Let us have faith to plead it with her, believing that the Divine Alchemist can transmute even such worthless material into a saint.
Patiently, trustingly, Juana is waiting. Through all her sorrows she has come to "the valley of blessing," to rest and peace, and the song she loves best to sing, is—
"Emptied, that He might fill me,
As forth to His labor I go,
Broken, that so unhindered
His life through me might flow."