Page 223 - Unseen Hands by Nona Freeman

Appendix: The Road to Ethiopia
and night I prayed, studied the Bible, and wrote. All the time I knew how desperately I needed to be concentrating on my academic studies instead of working on this seem ingly meaningless project.
As if that stress were not enough,then beganmyfirst real battle with the kingdom of Satan. I did not knowwhat it was to fight a spiritual warfare until that time.
It is said that Martin Luther once threw an ink well at Satan and the stain of that ink on the wall can still be seen to this day. If I had used an ink well during my writing of this work, my wall might well have stains on it, too, for Satan attacked me viciously. My sister, recently related to me in tears that she still remembers how that late in the night—sometimes two o'clockin the morning- she would hear me through the wall, rebuking Satan. So fiercely would he attack that at times it would take two or three hours for me to write just one sentence. But word by word, sentence by sentence I fought Satan, until at last—six months later—I finished the Lord's assignment.
What was my reward at the end? My grades were two F's, a D's, and a drop. All hopes of being accepted into graduate school weregone.Therewasnoway toexplain this to my unbelieving father, and my own dreams were crushed.
Just as I finished writing the pamphlet, I was invited to a Christian party in Port Arthur, Texas. There I met my second Norwegian—Gjertrud Kvisvik. She was a secretary and she was fluent in English. When I told her of Ovid Peterson, she voluntarily offered to translate my pamphlet into Norwegian and type it, and she did this at no charge. I mailed it to Ovid's home address in Norway and to his missionary parents in Argentina.
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