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Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Closing the Door






We have one day left in Dondo before the plane takes us away.  It is hard to believe our time in Africa for this year has ended. Of course we are squeezing in the goodbyes and the last minute details of the many projects. The Green Door has built two cement block houses, four mud houses, and is working to complete three more mud houses. Many roof repairs, new cement floors, and casa de banho constructions were also squeezed into this time frame. It is fun to see the happy faces of the families who are grateful for the blessing of these homes. Many needy families still wait for their own home and we trust that God will provide the funds. It inspires us to go home and recruit GD teams to join us in making these homes a reality for more Mozambicans.

I have enjoyed teaching the Bible studies in the bairros. Everyone is eager to hear God's Word because so many are unable to read. They listen carefully so they can memorize what is taught. They love to dance and sing worship songs and finally I have become successful at some of their African dance steps! It is always my heart to work in Project Life and I am thankful for the ministry opportunities it brings - especially in the hospital. We have had the privilege of watching God change lives.

Tomorrow I say goodbye to Peanut and Priscilla. Two of the skinniest, mangiest stray dogs I have ever seen but found their way to our house to keep us company and relieve us of some of our food. (On occasion they even acted like guard dogs...)  I have grown very fond of them even if Priscilla is just a skinny blonde.  (Ah...but Peanut loves her....) We are also sad to say goodbye to the CRI staff but wish them well as they continue on with this ministry. 

And in the midst of saying all these goodbyes, we look forward to greeting our adorable children and grandchildren who graciously and patiently share us with others across the world. We feel doubly blessed that in both places we have friends, family and home.   We are also thankful for all our supporters who share the partnership of this ministry.  Hopefully this blog has given you an insight into life in Mozambique and how God's love can make a difference. Até logo meus amigos! Deus vos abençoe!




Saturday, July 18, 2009

One Bottle Of Glue








One of the outreach ministries of the Ray of Light is teaching the children of the church plants about Jesus.  At the Mafarinha church plant this takes place in the outside courtyard of the preschool.  This outside ministry is a magnet for all the neighborhood children who can't resist any gathering that looks like it might be fun.  Fun it is because Tatiana (my dynamic Portuguese teacher) keeps the children's attention as she exuberantly explains the Bible story.  To compliment the story the children were given a picture to color and a cut-out piece to add for animation.  My part was to help the children glue on that little piece...a seemingly easy job....until I discovered we had one bottle of glue.  There was a brief moment of frenzy when one hundred hands popped into my peripheral vision.  It took a while to divvy out the glue but each child went home quite satisfied with their masterpiece.  

Sunday, July 12, 2009

A Week of Praise










Feliz aniversário!  That greeting rang out several times this week as we celebrated birthdays at five different bairros in Project Life.  Twice a year the ROL likes to celebrate birthdays in the project because it is by God's grace that each of these precious people celebrate another year. It was a pleasure to treat our friends with pop, cupcakes and cookies and watch them dance, clap and sing praises to God for His blessings.  Of course the neighborhood children joined in at each bairro - it was too irresistable! There always is so much to praise God about as He continues to answer prayers in Dondo...

I often pray for people but don't always have the chance to see how God answered.  This week I was blessed to see two miraculous answers.  I was about to get in my car when a woman caught my arm and simultaneously greeted me.  I recognized her face but I couldn't place her.  She proudly displayed her baby girl whom I didn't recognize at all.  Then it hit me!  It was baby Isabel!  In April I had found this frightened, fragile, and failure-to-thrive AIDS baby adorned with witchcraft charms lying in a hospital bed.  I had told Isabel's mom I couldn't pray for her baby if she continued to wear the charms.  We explained the gospel to her and she accepted Christ, took off the charms from Isabel's body and asked us to pray.  We continued to pray for her until they released her from the hospital a couple weeks later. I had no idea what God's plans were for Isabel. Without His intervention I knew she wouldn't live, though I had peace that she was in His care.  Now I was staring at her in disbelief because she had gained so much weight that I didn't recognize her!  God's mercy is great. And it just gets better...

Last year a man came to me in Project Life asking for prayer for his wife who had suffered several miscarriages.  I hesitantly prayed for them because I honestly didn't know what God's will would be for a husband and wife who were suffering from AIDS. I knew God was the giver of life so I prayed in faith that He would make the best choice for this couple.  This week the wife gave birth to a healthy baby girl.  And guess what?  They named her Pam. I can't wait to hold her and see this little black baby that shares my name.  What a great gift God has given this little family.  What an encouragement to see God's mercy on all of us.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

The Light

We are often left in the dark in Dondo when the electricity goes off. It is not an unusual occurrence but this week it has been every day and when it goes dark, it goes dark!  It is striking how one lit candle can push away the darkness. This week I discovered another candle shining through the darkness.

I went to the home of my friend Emelia.  It is customary for friends and family to sit with the bereaved in their home for days following the burial of a loved one.  It was heart warming to see the number of people at her son's funeral, but equally so to see the women sitting with her quietly on her cement floor in her small home.  In her usual soft-spoken voice, Emelia shared with me the struggle of the last hours of her son's life. She wanted me to understand the culture, and what Christians are facing in Mozambique.  

After we had taken her son to the hospital, his condition continued to deteriorate.  Her family joined her at the hospital and asked her to take him to the witchdoctor to receive the traditional medicine.  She told them that God was the giver of life and death, not the witchdoctor.  They continued to pressure her by promising to take all responsibility to pay whatever the witchdoctor would ask.  My friend continued to resist.  As a last resort, they accused her son of manifesting evil spirits.  They demanded that the witchdoctor come and call out the evil spirit.  As she held her dying son, she had many accusations thrown at her but she held her ground.  She said she knew Jesus had the power to save him and would accept His will. Within the hour, he slipped away.

The deep darkness of witchcraft continues to permeate this country.  This darkness, however, can never overtake the light.  The candle shines only brighter.

Friday, June 26, 2009

A Humble Walk

He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.  Micah 6:8

This scripture was my "theme" verse as I came to Moz four months ago.  God is always faithful to show me what is "good" and what He requires though it is not always easy - especially if it involves humbleness.  It has been my desire to be here to help others.  But truthfully, it is really me that is on the receiving end.  Today I had another chance to observe what it means to "walk humbly with your God."

After our Bible study this afternoon, Fatima asked if we could go see Emelia, another activista that did not show up for work this morning. Rumor had it that she was "not feeling well." Though it was getting late in the day, I agreed we should go.  When we arrived at her small home we found her inside attending her grown son as he lay on the cement floor.  She was trying to coax him to take some watery sustenance.  I quickly observed that his condition looked critical and he was deteriorating rapidly.  She calmly got up and greeted us though I could see a mother's heart conveyed on her face.  After some brief questions, it was evident she had no means to take him to the hospital.  She had been praying and waiting patiently for God to help her in this difficult situation.  Since he was on the verge of unconsciousness, several onlookers picked him up to carry him to my car.  But rather than hastening his limp body out to the car, Emelia stopped us midstream and asked for prayer. She wanted to commit him to the care of the One she trusted. We drove him to hospital not knowing if there would be a doctor or medical equipment available to save him.  Yet in all of this, I witnessed her humble spirit as she accepted this cup of sorrow.

I couldn't help but think back a few years ago when my own daughter was in critical condition with a skull fracture after falling several feet onto a cement floor.  Within a short time she was whisked away to a waiting helicopter that flew her to another city in another state so she could receive the best of medical attention.  A neurosurgeon waited on stand-by should surgery be imminent. While in a coma at the hospital, she began having several seizures that the medicine was not able to control.  I remember the sick feeling of panic that followed when I realized all the medical help at our disposal might not be able save her.  At the time, I wasn't ready to drink that cup.  Within three weeks, because of God's mercy, my daughter was able to walk out of the hospital on her own.  I wonder what pitfalls my walk with God might have taken had it gone the other way?

There is so much to learn along this pathway as God teaches us how to walk humbly.  Emelia's son is in God's hands and she knows there is no better place for him to be.

(Postscript:  Emelia's son died two days after I wrote this.  He had accepted Christ and is now completely healed.)

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

El Shaddai





These are the happy faces of the El Shaddai children. They are working hard both in the classroom and outside of the classroom. Can you believe they are making these mud sculptures from the sand outside the school? Their sculptures are not only creative but they are useful. I watched this little artist as he demonstrated the driving ability of his new truck on the sand.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

A House Without A Door

Recently I received word from my friend Mariana that she was requesting transportation to the hospital - both good news and bad news.  The good news was that she chose not to use the traditional medicine in spite of her husband's history with witch doctors. The bad news was that it meant she was not getting better.  Last year Mariana taught a class for me in crochet for a couple of months to other women in Project Life.  I would peek in on them during one of the classes and see several women laughing and talking while creating something intricate and beautiful.  It was such a "normal" scene to my senses.  But these women were anything but normal. Each one had the AIDS virus knocking at her door.

The last time I saw Mariana she was so ill that I wondered if I would see her again.  But as I arrived her emaciated form sat patiently waiting for me outside her home.  She cautiously got up from her chair and collapsed before I could intervene. Gathering her in my arms I wasted no time taking her to the hospital, only to find a huge crowd congregating in our pathway. Patients, hospital workers and nurses were being entertained with loud drums and dancing out in the hospital's courtyard. A group from Maputo was performing an AIDS awareness program that everyone was required to watch. I took Mariana to the empty hospital waiting room and returned to the ongoing commotion. After performing a few traditional dances to the beating of loud drums, they used their theatrics to impart the important message of AIDS prevention.  I appreciated their realistic and honest scenarios of why the AIDS virus spreads so quickly in Mozambique.  A phrase they used really caught my attention, "Having AIDS is like having a house without a door." What a great visual of opportunistic diseases entering an immune-deficient body. 

There are millions who suffer around the world with a "house without a door."  It is comforting to know that love still has the last word. God is knocking at the door of many hearts and like Mariana, many are finding Him.

* * * * * * 

Looking in another door - the Green Door dedicated João Mubata's cement block house this last week.  João is a church plant leader from Monte Xiluva.  He and his wife Luisa have four children: Ruth, Miriam, Noemia, and Gerson.




Tuesday, June 2, 2009

ABC - It's Not Free




I am now taking pictures of the Ray of Light school children for child sponsorships.  Nothing can bring a smile to my face faster than the happy school children at the ROL.  What I have noticed in the three years that I have been doing this is the change in the children.  It is dramatic and heart warming.  The care and love they receive in their education is heads above the average school in Mozambique.

Since the war destroyed half of the school buildings, many students share the same government school.  Students squeeze into several shifts that begin as early as 6:45 a.m. and end as late as 10:40 p.m. Education is compulsory for only seven years. The primary session is considered "free" but only in the sense that students don't pay tuition. They pay for their uniforms, exercise books, pencils and paper. Many families can't afford these necessities since their predominant struggle is to put food on their tables. Since food is an issue, many children attend school on an empty stomach. The ratio in the primary system is 67 students to one teacher. If they can make it past the seventh year, their challenges only increase.

In the secondary school (8-12), the students have to pay fees for their tuition, uniforms, books, paper, pens, photocopying, tests, (yes, tests!) and internet use. Recently I heard on the news that the government only printed 13,000 books for 19,000 students in grade 8. Only those with money will be able to buy them. The rest of the students will have to photocopy their friend's book on their own time and at their own expense. There is no formal computer training and very few computers are available but when they can find a store with internet access, its usage is 50mt an hour (or 2.00 USD). Many of the students come and ask to use my computer because it is their only hope of completing an assignment. There is also the problem of bribing to pass a grade - both from students and teachers. It is no wonder that the majority of students drop out between their primary and secondary levels.  

I watch the activistas who serve all day in Project Life persevere with their education at night. One is in ninth grade for the third year in a row.  Another one is a mother of four children and she is now in the fourth grade. It is only in recent years that women have been encouraged to attend school.  All of this emphasizes the value of the Ray of Light's vision for a Christian education through their preschools and El Shaddai (1-12). See the pics - the children's bright smiling faces say it all.   

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Maybe Tomorrow

Phil called me this morning to share the news.  Our Green Door foreman, Marques passed away.  It caught me off guard as I tried to grasp the truth of his words. Three weeks ago I had sat down on the ground with Marques next to the cement block house the Green Door ministry was building for a church plant leader.  I was in-between delivering cement blocks for my husband and was waiting for them to be unloaded. Marques was a quiet man, so I took the opportunity to get more acquainted with him.  He seemed happy to have my company as I mentally formed my Portuguese sentences into an intelligible parley. Our discourse included sharing some basic facts about his family of two wives and 10 children; a circumstance not unlike many men in Mozambique and one that causes many complications.  He talked about some losses he had encountered in his life though I couldn't catch everything he was articulating.  It was obvious he genuinely loved his family but found it difficult to feed and care for them. It occurred to me while listening to him that it was unusual to find Marques sitting down in the shade while the other men were working. I thought back to when my husband had hired him.  

He was the third man Manuel and Phil had interviewed. He seemed confident that he could build the Green Door houses within the cost framework. He took pride in his level and plumb houses. He proved to be a good choice.  Several houses later, his industrious labor enabled the Green Door ministry to bless a number of families. Though not a Christian, he rubbed shoulders with many Christians who shared the hope of a better life with him while they came to Moz to work on the GD houses.  One team even convinced him to come to church one Sunday.  Manuel talked to him often about the Lord as they worked together.  He encouraged him to accept Jesus into his heart.  Marques would reply each time, "maybe tomorrow." But tomorrow never came. 

The last week of his life he was too sick to show up for work. Yesterday morning he went to the hospital and was gone by 1:00 p.m. The reality that his family will face many formidable challenges has added to our anguish. Tomorrow we will bury him and share his family's grief. And tomorrow we will share with them the hope of a better life.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

It All Knits Together

Some days just seem to unravel. You can never predict what a perfectly planned day in Mozambique will produce. Though I'd like to follow a simple pattern it isn't long before the threads get tangled and I want to give up and cut them off. Then God steps in and reminds me the tapestry is His, not mine.

This whole week has been a tangle of threads for me until I met Zita. She is a new recipient in Project Life and has AIDS. She has four children, including a three-year-old who can't walk, talk or eat by himself. She rents a mud home that is falling apart and the roof leaks. Her husband goes from field to field offering his services as a gardener so their family of six can eat. As I sat down to visit with her I watched her hands skillfully forming symmetric loops into a pattern of a child's hat. Her knitting needles were two gangly long wires twisted into a knot on one end. She unraveled thread from an old sweater that was dirty and worn and wound it into a ball; it was her only source of yarn. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized a hand on a pattern much larger than this tiny child's hat. 

Before I had come to Mozambique, a woman I had just met asked if she could send with me a large bag of knitting needles and yarn. Usually I take a number of items but never have I included knitting needles and yarn. Crochet needles are my preference because they are small and take up less space in my suitcase. Besides, the women I knew in the project only crocheted. At the time I wondered why in the world I needed to take this large bulky bag to Mozambique and I almost took it out of my suitcase because of its weight. Now, watching Zita made me laugh at God's sense of humor and goodness to both of us.

I asked Zita how I could pray for her. She didn't ask for a new house, more food, new clothes or a better job for her husband.  She asked for healing for her three-year-old son. I saw her mother's heart. If God cared enough to provide her with new needles and yarn from someone 10,000 miles away, He certainly cared for her son. After we prayed she agreed to teach the other women in Project Life to knit. It would be a great way for her to earn a little money. We were both blessed in our own special way. It never ceases to amaze me how God can knit everything together for our good.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Don't Miss the Butterflies

The rainy season is finally over.  Sweet potatoes are growing in the fields and rice is starting to ripen.  Though the rainy season brings countless challenges it also brings something very delightful. Butterflies. The largest and most brilliant butterflies I have ever seen. Had I not come during the rainy season, I would have missed these very hungry caterpillars transforming into graceful works of art darting around the Mozambican landscape.  It is a celebration for the eyes. But that is not the only transformation I would have missed.

Today was my sixth week of Bible study at the house of  Domingas and Joaquim, two former witchdoctors.  The transformation in Domingas is remarkable.  When I first met her, her countenance was dark and she could not look at me in the eyes.  She could not even be in the same room with us while we prayed by her dead son. Then she found Jesus. His transforming power in her life has become more evident each week we meet.  Though she is illiterate, she repeats scripture to answer my questions.  She laughs often now; something she could never do before. Her father and two neighbors have also joined the Bible study. Today, for the first time, her neighbor prayed out loud. This afternoon I met her going to the funeral of one of our children in the nutrition program.  She was on her way to comfort another family with the same comfort God had given to her. At times I get discouraged at the challenges of living in a culture plagued with spiritual poverty. Then God gently reminds me that I would miss this beautiful miracle of His graceful work darting around the Mozambican landscape.  It is a celebration for the heart.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

The Green Door

Many people are acquainted with the ministry of the Green Door in Dondo that builds cement block houses for the poor for $2500. However, the Green Door also repairs roofs, mud houses, and on occasion constructs mud houses for $800 for those in Project Life with AIDS. The need is great and the list is growing every day. Below is a spotlight of two families that are on our list waiting to receive help.

Tina sat on the straw mat across from me. She balanced her toddler on her legs as she explained her history.  He first husband died and left her with five children.  Another man took her as his second wife and abandoned her; but not before he left her with one more child. She now has AIDS, no job and six young children in her care.  Her only means to survive is growing sweet potatoes and rice.  I observed that her very small mud home was quickly eroding away. Maria Luisa mentioned that it wouldn't be long before it collapsed in the rainy season.

Domingo also lives in Macharote; a bairro bordering the African bush. He and his wife have two small children. Last year we gave Domingo a Bible upon his request. I mentioned the Bible to him and asked if he had been reading it. He nodded his head. I also asked how they were feeling since both have been fighting AIDS for some time. He spoke up that they had not been sleeping well. I assumed that they were fighting some opportunistic disease due to the AIDS but he went on to explain that birds were keeping them up at night. Wondering what kind of night birds hang out in Marcharote I probed for a better description. I was a bit amused when I discovered it was a combination of owls and bats. In this land of mosquitos and rats, both birds can be very valuable. But what he said next made me sit up and listen.

The night before, he had heard a noise from his grass roof and saw a large cobra (3 inches in diameter) fall down on his bed from where he and his wife were sleeping with its hood fully open and ready to strike.  As he stumbled around quickly to kill it he noticed a second cobra curled up in the corner of the room. That experience would make the dead not sleep! I asked him to show me where he thought the snakes had gotten into his home. We walked into the two-room mud home directly to where he slept. I noted the great gap between the mud walls and his grass roof. Along the wall that wasn't deteriorated, Domingo had carved several scripture verses. After more investigation, his dilapidated door disclosed an ample gap that a snake could slither through. I wasn't surprised at his plight since the rainy season brings out the snakes. We prayed together that God would provide a safe home and better sleep.

Where do I begin to express the need here in Dondo?  Many struggle to pay for food and putting money into their mud homes isn't even an option. The good news is that you can help.  You can send any amount to Children's Relief International; PO Box 2470; Rockwall, TX 75087 (800) 570-2217.    Please be sure to indicate on your check that it is for the "Green Door" ministry.  

My friends thank you....and Jesus who is in you...for caring enough to make a difference. 


Thursday, April 23, 2009

The Ambulance

When you come to Dondo you can change hats several times before the sun sets behind the coconut trees.  The hat I donned this morning looked distinctly familiar but with a tangible twist.

This morning began early several kilometers away from Dondo. We had planned to participate in a Bible study with a group of Project Life recipients. After three days of rain, many dirt roads were impassable for the low slung van to negotiate. Undaunted, we parked the van at the highway and walked the remaining kilometers. At our arrival we discovered the hostess of the Bible study lying on the dirt floor in the back room of her mud home.  Conceding to some contagion from the last stages of AIDS, Fina was unable to lift her head for the customary greetings. As a former EMT, I evaluated her present need to go to the hospital. Call 911. Uh...maybe not. My mind wanted to play host to a nonexistent protocol - a formula for frustration here in Africa.  So we went with Plan B.  We found a neighbor who agreed to carry Fina on the back of his bicycle.  We carefully wrapped her in a capalana and sat her febrile and emaciated body upright on the back end of it.  She started to sway like a palm tree in the wind but we caught her just in time. In order to secure Fina on our "ambulance," Simone held on to her from the back while our driver took off towards the van negotiating the muddy and potholed road.  I looked down and realized my flip flops and a-line skirt hardly fit the attire of someone about to chase after the ambulance.  

We pulled up in front of the hospital and carried Fina into the emergency room adorned with chartreuse four-inch grasshoppers on the floor, wall and ceiling.  A minor addition since the hospital eliminated all the cockroaches this year and added mosquito nets to each bed. The nurse directed us to a room with a line of beds where Fina gratefully collapsed and didn't move for five hours. Eventually a nurse found time to address her needs and gave us a list of free medicines to retrieve at the hospital's pharmacy.  One prescription included an injection that wasn't available, initiating our drive to the only other pharmacy in town.  Upon our return, Fina was given her injection and officially discharged dispelling my wishful vision of her in an ICU wing. We carried her limp body to the car and retraced our morning run as far as we could drive. I watched her slumped form on the bike disappear down the road. Even though there isn't a state-of-the-art facility, I am thankful for the people who donate medicines so that my friend Fina can find some relief in her battle with AIDS.

Monday, April 20, 2009

The Aroma

In this culture where normalcy is laced with incredulity, it is easy to look past the flower that is blooming among the thorns and briars.  I had the sense to stop and savor this flower's aroma today before our first stop in Project Life.

I observed Laurinha's familiar limp as we walked together to visit the first family on our list. Laurinha is 55 but she walks for miles each day to minister God's love to a myriad of needy people. She admitted to me that each step is painful and I noticed that her feet slipped awkwardly in her torn plastic sandals.  Many years ago, when she was just a small child, she had been asked to fetch the water for her family at a local well. She tried to ferry the water but took a fateful fall that broke her leg. Without the access of medical attention, her leg never completely healed. She is not the image of the beggars I see on the streets with a lesser handicap and a pitiful countenance. Instead, I am often the recipient of her cheerful smile and humble spirit.  The Green Door ministry built her a mud home last fall.  It is small, about 300 square feet.  But it is her first home and she asked to have it dedicated to the Lord for His service.  I was thankful for the aroma of Christ within her that braced me for our first meeting of the morning.

We came to the home of a Catholic woman with AIDS in PL that I had not met before. When I heard her story though, it came back to me like jumping in ice water on a frigid day. Last year she had witnessed her oldest son Victor murder her youngest son Domingo because Domingo had worn Victor's clothes to church without asking. Domingo had become a Christian about 15 days prior to his death. Victor was sentenced to jail in Beira shortly afterward. His mother refused to communicate with him after that tragic day. It is tempting to allow the thorns and briars in a garden of poverty to camouflage the hope that a flower can bloom. But I took a deep breath and labored to snip the thorns and briars away with God's Word.  We talked about forgiveness and hope for Victor because of Christ. I was encouraged when she took us to the home of her daughter and grandchildren so they could hear this Truth too.  I pray that this fragrance of forgiveness will continue to fill their hearts and broaden its aroma to Beira.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

The "Doctor" at Lusalite

I knew she was there.  I just didn't know where.

Many a night I have heard the beating of drums in our guarded housing compound called Lusalite.  Though I have recognized the beat in the air I have shrugged off the thought that a witchdoctor could possibly live here.  Today I met her. Her home is located behind the small hospital clinic of Lusalite.  What I learned today was invaluable in understanding the perplexity of deep poverty shadowed by women in witchcraft.

We exchanged pleasantries at first as one does with a new relationship. She seemed amiable enough and was willing to talk openly about her life. I easily exchanged my courtesy for curiosity and started probing deeper.  Have you heard of Jesus? Are you afraid to die? Why did you become a witchdoctor? She laughed the minute I mentioned Jesus. I really couldn't discern if it was a laugh of defiance or a cover for shame. She said she had no interest in Him. She had tried to leave her witchcraft once and had immediately become very ill. She emphasized she didn't want that kind of suffering again. I studied her in disbelief.  I asked if she had heard of hell. Immediately she shook her head dogmatically and described it well as though she were the professor and I the student.  I was astonished by her knowledge. Quietly I interjected that the God of all creation who has power over everything really did love her and wanted to have a relationship with her. She quietly bowed her head and said it didn't matter. She was married to an evil spirit.

In the ensuing conversation what I learned has troubled me greatly. Though a mother of four, this woman divorced her husband in order to be married to this evil spirit. She is used by this spirit to talk to the dead on behalf of her "patients."  For a price, the ancestors then advise the patient through this witchdoctor on how to live their lives. She also sells medicines and charms to keep them healthy, wealthy and wise.  In this land of deprivation it is a lucrative business.  I couldn't help but wonder if the evil spirit's name was Money. As she repeated once again that I would never be able to change her mind I noticed three "patients" had come to see her.  I politely excused myself and thanked her for her time.  

As I walked away I mused over the irony of it all. This woman is carrying the dreaded AIDS virus and it will only be a matter of time before she succumbs to the very thing she fears the most. 

(Almost all of the witchdoctors in Mozambique are women.  It has been said that there are as many as 7000 here in Dondo.  In this land of gender inequality a women struggles to find anything that will put food on her table.  It is not uncommon for a married woman to exchange sexual favors for food. It stands to reason that becoming a "traditional healer" would be a very inviting occupation.)      

Sunday, April 12, 2009

What Time Was It?

What time was it when Jesus rose from the dead?

I considered that question this morning when we rose (so early!) to be at the 4 a.m. Easter sunrise service.  Framed in by empty streets, about 80 of us gathered outside the Dondo Baptist church in the serene African morning with the moon as our only light. 

With the sandy loam under our feet we danced and sang in Sena and Portuguese praise songs to a risen King. I listened as Pastor Jeronimo reminded us that it was the women that went to the empty tomb first and a woman to whom Jesus first appeared. Was it because it was a woman who first took the forbidden fruit?  

How did you feel Eve when you heard of this glorious resurrection?

I know what time it was when Jesus rose from the dead.  It was the perfect time.  The time to heal our broken worlds.  Our African world infused with disease, poverty, hopelessness and death.   Our American world cluttered with apathy, affluence, autonomy and also death

The sun poured its light through the palm branches with the closing prayer. Just in time because the streets of Dondo began stirring with their usual pace.  I thought it was good this morning to be at this very early Easter sunrise service.  For it is never too early to take the hope of a risen life to a dying world.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Three Visits




These were three of many patients we saw at the hospital today when we served soup:

Isabel...It is ironic that you not only bear the name of a famous queen that championed Christianity but also a witchdoctor's charm secured around your fragile neck.  It pains me to see your large fearful eyes on an emaciated body that divulges the disease taking you away.  When you don't even know your left from your right, how can you navigate the complexity of AIDS? Dear little Isabel.....help me understand...why did life fail you?

No Name...Doesn't everyone have the right to a name and at least one set of clothes to cover their nakedness?  That is how you were abandoned at the Dondo hospital a month ago.   A bed sheet is your new finery but you don't complain.  You have never spoken a word in 13 years because mental disability sequesters the stories somewhere in your mind.  You are as vulnerable as a fragment of glass on a train track.  Why did life fail you?

The Widow...Following the piercing scream from the corridors, I found you on the floor next to your husband's body.  This morning he carried your sick child to the hospital until he suddenly passed out on the road.   Tonight you are frantic to find what kind of contagion took him away and left you with five small children.  Why did life fail you?

We explained the Truth to Isabel's mother and she cut off the charms from her daughter's neck. We found the perfect dress for No Name at the market and she laughed a long time when we hugged her.  We provided the funds for a funeral and food for the widow and comforted her in her sorrow.   Lastly, we committed them to the One who accepts the sick, abandoned and dying. For there is one thing we have come to understand...that love never fails.

Monday, March 30, 2009

FIve Loaves, Two Fish






The ominous clouds Sunday almost prevented our trip to the Savane Church plant.  We debated our assessment as to whether the roads would be safe to travel should the sultry sky open up enroute.  Yet, our desire to help the church was greater than our initial hesitation so we piled 200 kilos of food and nine people into our small 2-wheel drive pickup and took off.  Along the way we dropped off Thais near Centro Emissor (another church plant) but not without first attempting to see if the Nissan knew how to swim.  The road had become a river running through a rice field from the rains the night before and we promptly found ourselves worried about another aborted mission. All of us prayed silently as the Nissan gurgled and choked its way miraculously out of the mire.  Two jarring and jolting hours later we reached our destination but not without a shout of unrestrained jubilation.

Our first greeters at the church plant were thousands of red ants swarming the ground all around us.  We purposely had not revealed our arrival since our food was very meager considering the needs of the entire Savane area.  If word had leaked out that we were furnishing food - we would have had a crowd that even Billy Graham might envy.  Instead, we came quietly and found a small group of 16 families dancing and singing in the church fabricated from mud, bamboo and grass.  (I secretly wondered if their vigorous dancing had anything to do with all the ants under their feet.)  They welcomed us in their usual gracious manner but because of the thickening clouds,  Manuel proceeded to preach.  Studying their familiar faces and angular frames filled me with thankfulness contesting any misgivings about the journey. 

The sound of rain against the bamboo structure shifted our attention to divide the food.  Measuring in kilos the bags were quickly filled and dispersed.  Manuel reminded the flock that if Jesus could feed 5000 with five loaves and two fish, then He could be trusted to stretch this provision.  Quickly we said our goodbyes and maneuvered our way back home in time to experience an unbelievable deluge of rain that lasted for hours.  God does provide.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Don't Close Your Eyes in Africa

From the moment I opened my eyes this morning I knew it was going to be a good day. We had spent the day before in Beira buying rice, beans and cornmeal for our brothers and sisters out at the Savane Church plant. The food would give them a relief from eating the food reserved for pigs and other animals. Today I was driving the CRI van because the power steering fluid had been continuously leaking into the crank case crippling my car from performing its duties. Although I looked like a chapa,* I didn’t mind using the van because we needed the room for a return trip to buy food for the people in Project Life.

I picked up Marilene, Simone and Carlos at the church thankful I was only a few minutes late. Shopping in Beira can be long and hot and we wanted to get an early start. After everyone had settled in the car and we were gaining speed, I realized much to my alarm like any chapa we had picked up another passenger. In front of my nose but through the windshield a pair of large beady eyes were staring straight at me! A foot-long lizard was gripping for all it was worth onto my windshield with every ounce of reptile strength. After recovering from the initial shock (doing my best to hide my fear) I reasoned that this uninvited traveler would certainly fall off the car the faster I went. However, the faster I went the more he was determined to stay on the car. I could almost see the G-forces on its prickly green face! Then it happened. In a split second he decided to join us in the car through my open window. I screamed (my fear became greater than my pride) and I began to lose control of the car. My friends started screaming and yelling too but not because of the lizard. Quickly I recovered and pulled off the road in order to get rid of our transient intruder. We sighed a huge relief and eased our tension with lots of laughter. Marilene volunteered to pray for our safety for the rest of the trip - chiding me not to close my eyes while we prayed. How little did I know that in a few minutes my eyes would really be opened.

In front of us a group of policemen were choosing cars to stop on the road. In the past, I had only been stopped once so it was quite surprising when they pulled me over. I mentally checked to make sure my documents were all in order and promptly produced them for the officer. He examined the car and rolled off in Portuguese what offense I had committed. Simone translated that the van had dark passenger windows and it was against Mozambican law. (I was relieved to hear that was my only crime!) At the police station the car and keys were confiscated. We were told to take a real chapa into Beira and not return until we paid our fine. It was sadly apparent that our shopping trip had come to an end. We could no longer drive the van until we scraped off every bit of the black film from the windows.

Phil and Manuel rescued us for the trip to pay the fine. On our return, we couldn’t believe it when outside of Beira the police pulled us over again! The officer examined the truck for any possible offenses. Although missionaries should pray for eyes to be opened we were praying for eyes to be blind. Amazingly, he already knew we had been fined earlier and that we were missionaries. He asked us if we had received the correct paperwork for our fine. Then with a smile, he told us we could leave. My one consolation in all of this is that God never closes His eyes...and especially not in Africa.

*any vehicle - usually a van - that is used here for transporting people. Often we see chapas (hope I spelled it correctly...) full of 30 or more people at one time.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Beira Beggars

It was time to protect our fleet of steel and plastic workhorses so John, Cindy, Phil and I drove four of them along with Jeronimo into Beira looking for the local insurance agency. We were a curious convoy as we weaved in and out of bicycles, people and a variety of potholes. Nothing bureaucratic moves quickly in Moz so we waited outside among the pedestrians, beggars and street boys while Jeronimo negotiated inside. When it became apparent the electricity was off and it would be a while before the paperwork could be completed, I decided to converse with one little waif trying to con me into some metacais.

This young boy, who couldn’t have been more than six, came up to me displaying a perfectly rehearsed theatrics worthy of an Oscar. Admittedly, he was good. His skinny legs supported his tattered shorts and his shirt barely hung on his boney arms. He quickly shoved his dirty hand in my face with great expectation. I looked beyond him and saw an older boy eyeing his friend critically as if he were the director in this five minute drama. Abruptly I interrupted his lines to interject a few of my own. Where did you come from? Where is your mother? Your father? Where do you sleep? He blinked at me quizzically, either because of my bad Portuguese or because he had never been asked those questions by his audience before. He shyly answered that he had no mother. He then acknowledged he had a father but his father had sent him away a long time ago to beg in the streets. The older boy, realizing the script had changed came over to protect his interests in what was apparently a syndicated relationship. I peppered him with the same questions and discovered that although this boy was possibly ten or eleven, he had no idea when and where he was born or how long he had lived on the streets. His mother and father died long ago and he called these streets his home. For a brief moment my eyes envisioned our adopted son at exactly this age nineteen years ago living this desperate lifestyle in Hanoi. It sickened me to recognize how customary this has become. And more so as AIDS continues to spread.

We parted friends a few minutes later but not without my pocket feeling a bit more empty as well as my heart. Lord...please help us to have wisdom to know what to do for these millions of orphans that are trying to find their way on this long and lonely path.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

The Reunion

She held on to me and quietly sobbed as I hugged her with sheer joy mixed with total terror. Joy because I hadn’t seen her in six months. Terror for her because AIDS had brought T.B. as an uninvited guest. She isn’t just another person with AIDS. She is my wonderful Christian friend that has walked with me many hours in Project Life. She is a young woman to be admired.

I was in awe when I heard her story of how her husband had left her because her mother-in-law thought she "wasn’t right" for her son. He left her penniless, with AIDS and the job of raising two children. I first met her when I was introduced to Project Life. I had found it ironic that the difference between her extreme poverty and those she served was her rich soul filled with Jesus. It was exciting last year when a donor allowed her to have a Green Door mud house. I still have visions of us laughing together as she was caked in mud diligently working on her first home. Today I found her there too sick to do anything.

I asked my friend if she had been able to eat any food. I wasn’t surprised to find that the only food in her house was corn flour. She is one of thousands going hungry this time of year in Moz. Gratefully, I knew that some donors had left money for the Project Life food pantry and we could bring her some beans, oil, and rice. It will last for a little while. Then to my great delight, because of a faithful team member from the States (thanks Debbie!) growing in her yard was a 10 foot beautiful moringa tree. Cindy had given one to each of the activistas when they were tall enough to be transplanted. (The moringa tree is very nutritious.) Manuel and I explained to her how to dry the leaves and add them to her corn meal. Her eyes began to express some hope.

It is inevitable those with AIDS are going to suffer. It is a tough enemy to defeat. But I am very proud of fellow Christians who are generous during tough times to people they don’t know thousands of miles away... because they want to serve Jesus. And today they served Him well as they reached out to my dear, sweet friend.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Returning To Dondo

They say one of the most difficult jobs as a missionary is saying goodbye. The word comes up often when traveling yearly to the flip-side of the world. Candidly, it is THE most difficult job for me. Right now we are saying goodbye to our children and grandchildren and packing and repacking six-months of living into two overnight bags (the four checked bags are stuffed with a miscellany of treasures for the Ray of Light Project in Dondo :-). It is not a walk in the park to put 10,000 miles between you and your loved ones.

Yet...going to Moz has changed my life. I can't ignore the truth that our Mozambican brothers and sisters, children and grandchildren are hurting. Since we left six months ago, several have slipped away from life to the grave. Right now John says many of the people are starving and eating pig feed that is sold along the road. Many still have not heard that there is a friend waiting for them that sticks closer than a brother.

I have no guarantee that I can make a difference. The problems and solutions grow in polarized worlds. Yet John Ortberg says, "Faith is coming to believe with my whole body what I say I believe with my mind." If I don't take this leap of faith, then I will never learn to soar. If I don't go with the faith that God can help me make a difference, my certificate for failure is signed in stone.

We leave this Sunday. Do you want to go with us? You can by praying for us, supporting us (www.childrensrelief.org), and joining a team going to Dondo this summer. Whatever you do to partner with us, we pray that God will bless your act of faith.