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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.