Once the morning “housework” was taken care of, it was time for Betty to get to some serious language study. She would listen to the people talk and write down phonetically what she heard. She tried to isolate the sounds that made up the language so that the sounds could eventually be reduced to a fixed, written alphabet. One thing she learned as she studied the language was that the Aucas did not call themselves by that name. That was the name outsiders had given them. Instead, they referred to themselves as the Waorani.
During the day, Betty and Rachel went their own ways and would meet together in the evening to compare language notes and discuss what they had learned about Waorani culture. During the afternoon, Betty would often take Valerie to the garden clearing, where yucca and bananas grew. On their way back to the village they would gather wood for the fire.
All the while, Betty watched for signs of danger, but she did not see any. Dayuma had told her not to ask about Jim’s death, in case the men thought she was trying to figure out who it was she should take revenge on. So Betty left that subject alone.
It was obvious from the stories Betty heard around the fire at night that the Waorani were caught in a sad cycle of killing. One of Rachel’s first jobs was to put together a family tree. She told Betty that she estimated Dayuma had two hundred relatives when she had left the tribe twelve years before, and now one hundred sixty of them were dead—most of them killed in revenge killings. Betty prayed that the introduction of the gospel to the Waorani would be instrumental in breaking this cycle of killing.
Betty was amazed at how well Dayuma complemented her and Rachel’s skills. Because neither of the missionaries was yet fluent in Waorani, Dayuma took on the role of missionary to her own people. She taught them how to count off the days in lots of seven so that on the seventh day they could have a holy day. She also got the people together and taught them from God’s carvings (the Bible) and made up simple hymns for them to learn.
Prayer was one of the hardest things for the Waorani to grasp. They had no idea what it meant to pray, and people would often close their eyes, bow their heads, and nod right off to sleep. Of course, Dayuma was right there to prod them awake again.
Bit by bit, some of the tribe began to respond to the gospel. No one but Dayuma was yet a Christian, but the people began to ask thoughtful questions about God.
After two months at the Waorani settlement on the Tiwaeno River, Betty and Valerie left to visit Jim’s parents, who were waiting for them in Quito. This was the first time the Elliots had met their granddaughter. They all spent a happy Christmas together in Quito, and after Jim’s parents left, Betty stayed on for a much-needed break.
Meanwhile, Rachel and Dayuma also took a break from the harsh reality of living in the jungle. The two of them traveled back to Limoncocha.
Betty and Valerie returned to the Tiwaeno settlement in March 1959, and Rachel and Dayuma had arrived back at the village several weeks before them. They resumed their language work and shared the gospel with the Waorani at every chance they got.
Time passed slowly in the jungle, and the everyday tasks of living took up much more time than Betty wanted them to. Still, along with keeping up her missionary work, Betty managed to keep a detailed journal of her life and the events at Tiwaeno.
In September 1959, Betty once again left the Waorani behind, this time returning home to New Jersey. After eight years away, being home was quite a culture shock for her. The American economy seemed to be booming, and new houses and roads were springing up everywhere. On what had once been rural land now sat suburbs with neat, single-story homes that lined paved streets. New Jersey presented even more of a culture shock for Valerie, who had been born and had lived her young life in the jungle.
Back in the United States, Betty found herself somewhat of a Christian celebrity. Her two books, Through Gates of Splendor and The Shadow of the Almighty, were both best-sellers. As a result, Betty had the opportunity to speak at many churches and Christian gatherings, where she urged people to look beyond their own circumstances and see God’s plan for their lives.
While Betty was at home, an editor from her publisher met with her and reviewed the photographs she had taken of her seven-month experience in the jungle with the Waorani. The editor asked her to write the text for a book to go along with the photos. Betty agreed to do so, even though it would delay her return to the Waorani. The title of the book was The Savage My Kinsman.
When Betty and Valerie finally returned to the Waorani, they discovered that many changes had taken place. Rachel had stayed on in Tiwaeno while Betty was away, and she had made substantial progress. A number of the Waorani in the settlement had become Christians, including several of the men who had taken part in the killing of the missionary men at Palm Beach.
Another big change had occurred too. The Waorani had cleared away a swath of the jungle between the river and the village for an airstrip. Betty had the privilege of standing beside the airstrip when Don Smith, the local JAARS (Jungle Aviation and Radio Service) pilot who serviced the workers with Wycliffe Bible Translators throughout the Oriente, brought his plane in to land at the airstrip for the first time. Now a trip to Arajuno, which used to take up to three days trekking through the jungle, took only ten minutes.
Despite the many advances, things did not go smoothly for Betty upon her return to Tiwaeno. While Betty was away, Rachel had lived alone, without any other Europeans. As a result, Rachel had come to a different understanding of the way forward in the village. And she was now much farther along in the study of the Waorani language than Betty was and had already begun some Bible translation into the language.
The two headstrong missionary women began to clash. Despite both of their best efforts to get along, the relationship wore Betty down. It was easy to see that the two of them were not working together, and Betty concluded it would be best for her to leave. This was not a quick decision, but once she had made it, Betty felt confident that it was the right thing to do.
Before she left, though, Betty had the joy of witnessing the first Waorani baptism. Dr. Everett Fuller from the medical clinic at Shell Mera agreed to make weekly visits to the community to take care of the various health needs of the Waorani. On his first visit to Tiwaeno, Dr. Fuller baptized nine Waorani believers in the river. Tears welled in Betty’s eyes as she watched the event. How she wished Jim and the others could have been there to see the baptism, which represented the fulfillment of what they had given their lives for.
Soon after the baptism, Betty attended Dayuma’s wedding. Dayuma married Komi, one of the recently baptized believers. Once again Betty was profoundly touched as she watched the event.
Finally it was time for Betty and Valerie, now six years old, to leave. It did not take Betty long to pack their belongings, since she had very little to take with her—just her journals, camera, film, and a few clothes.
Although it was sad saying goodbye to the Waorani of Tiwaeno, Betty knew that leaving was the right thing to do. As she made her way out of the jungle, Betty thought about the remarkable time spent among her husband’s killers, with all of its heartaches and joys. She wondered what was in store for her next.
Chapter 19
Elisabeth Elliot
After leaving Tiwaeno and the Waorani, Betty went back to work among the Quichua Indians for a time. Then in 1963, after having served for eleven years as a missionary in Ecuador, Betty left the country with Valerie and returned to the United States. Back home, Betty’s life was soon caught up in a flurry of activity. Many churches and Christian groups wanted to hear Betty speak. Betty began traveling the country, speaking and challenging people about missions and the need to live pure and godly Christian lives. The more she spoke, the more popular she became. Betty quickly began to enjoy her new ministry role as a traveling speaker.
In the summer of 1963, Betty’s parents retired and moved to Vero Beach, Florida. They had barely settled in when her father died suddenly on Christmas Day. Betty and Valerie went to comfort Mrs. Howard, but Betty’s mother was radiant. “Apart from a few tears, my heart is full of nothing but thankfulness,” she declared.
Betty felt the same way. Her father had been a strong and consistent godly influence in her life, and she realized that she owed a lot to him for that. However, the experience of losing a parent underscored to Betty the importance of writing down memories before they were lost forever. It was now too late to capture all the things her father remembered, but Betty urged her mother to buy a notebook and start writing down the experiences that she recalled from her life, along with things she wanted to say to the next generation.
At the same time, people were encouraging Betty herself to write more about her experiences. In this regard, Betty was grateful that she had been keeping a journal since the age of sixteen. Her journal provided plenty of material to draw on as she wrote—and write she did. Her first attempt was a novel she titled No Graven Images. The story was about a single missionary woman who goes to live among the Quichua Indians in Ecuador and encounters many discouragements along the way. Of course, much of the plot was based on personal experiences from Betty’s life. Betty wanted to show Christians that a person can be in God’s will and still have things go terribly “wrong.” By that, Betty meant things could be going wrong from the person’s perspective but that those things could well be part of God’s plan to bless the person and make him or her more Christlike. The novel was published in 1966, and its message was difficult for some Christians to read, but they respected Betty’s own journey through her missionary endeavors and the death of her husband.
By now Betty was going by her full name of Elisabeth Elliot when she was out speaking. It made more sense to her to be introduced at a meeting by the name that was also on the cover of her books. As Betty’s speaking and writing continued, invitations came in for her to speak in places near and far. At one such speaking engagement in 1968, Betty met Dr. Addison Leitch, who was recently widowed and taught theology at seminary level. Betty felt immediately drawn to him. She soon learned that Addison had a PhD from Cambridge University and was a regular columnist for the prestigious Christianity Today magazine. He was also a very athletic man. He coached swimming and football and loved baseball.
Addison and Betty saw each other several times, and then in October 1968, Addison proposed marriage to Betty, who joyfully accepted his proposal. She was forty-two years old and had been a widow now over twelve years. Addison was eighteen years older than Betty.
The couple were married on New Year’s Day 1969, with Valerie as Betty’s attendant. Following the wedding they moved to Hamilton, Massachusetts, where Addison was a professor at the newly formed Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary.
Addison encouraged Betty to continue with her writing and speaking. Betty was in constant demand as a speaker, and over half a million of her books were now in print.
Life with Addison in Hamilton was good. However, on New Year’s Day 1973, their fourth wedding anniversary, Addison and Betty received some bad news. Addison was diagnosed with not one but two separate forms of cancer. The outlook for his making a full recovery was not good. By now Valerie was away in Illinois in her freshman year at Wheaton College, and Betty had to bear the full weight of caring for her sick husband. Addison underwent surgery and both chemotherapy and radiation therapy. Sometimes he was in such excruciating pain that he screamed out in agony for help.
