Author: Layne

A Layne Post

The day was hot and even the afternoon shade brought little relief with the lack of breeze. Two men sat outside on a weathered wicker couch, three little girls ran around apparently unhindered by the heat, and one pregnant woman worked in the kitchen frying chicken. You wouldn’t guess Christmas was approaching, unless you walked into the living room to see the trimmed tree and the decorations strewn about.

But there in the ordinary, avent rolled in, the same way a King could be born in a lowly stable. Hope in dark places.

One man, a fisherman by trade, dares to open up about the uncertainty of his future and the truth of his advancing disease.

A little girl whines for help in the swing.

The other man tells a parable of a man on a boat that falls into the sea, and then is tossed a life saver. The stranded man only experiences salvation when he re-enters the boat. The story-teller explains how we are all, being sinners, stranded in the sea. Some have calm waters, others have a storm; some have a longer rope and others have a shorter rope, but we are all in need of a life saver and all in need of being pulled into the boat. He tells how Jesus is that life saver and how our rope, our life, whether long or short is only saved in the end when we get in the boat.

A little girl takes her sister’s toy and crying ensues. The woman hollers from the house. The kids come inside for dinner. One man follows. The other man goes to his kitchen to prepare food.

All sleep.

The next morning as bandages are changed and two men have their morning reminder that disease is near, the fisherman recounts a dream of being stranded in the water with large waves all around. “I am dying!” he yelled in his dream. A life saver appeared. The dream ended with him being pulled in the boat. Saved.

Advent comes.

As Christmas celebrations commence, we are reminded that this little baby, Jesus, was born into a hurting world with an ultimate goal – salvation for all.

Glory in the highest!

A Layne Post

“I was told this medicine kills. No one wanted me to come. I heard only 2 people have come back alive. My husband was scared, but I would have died had I stayed; I figured I would come and die here,” Sara said without flinching. Courage radiated. “Look at you now. Look how strong you are!” I encouraged. A little later I asked, “Back home, did you work?” “I worked in the machamba (farm). We plant rice and sweet potatoes,” she replied. She laughed about how spoiled her son is and how he won’t eat rice from the stores. She told me about when it is time to harvest the sweet potatoes they have piles and piles – they have so many the kids just start throwing them around like toys. The rice harvest was a bit small this year because she was here, but her 15 year old daughter harvested 9 bags. I told her someday I’d like to go to her machamba and help her out a day. She laughed and laughed saying no one would believe a white lady getting dirty in the rice field. I do hope that can happen someday.

I sat next to Inês in the day-chemo room meant for those who live nearby and can come and go. She leaned her head against the hard wall as we waited for her last bottle of Chemo to finish. The television showed women dressed in traditional fabrics dancing. I peered at Inês and asked if she could dance like that. She tilted her head down and laughed. She insisted she never could dance, but she could sing. And then we sat some more. By the time we exited Oncology it was dark outside, and we both knew there would be a lot of traffic on the way home. She hopped in the back and assured me she was fine. We waited in a long line up a hill, tail lights screaming the presence of so many cars, and she quietly told me she needed to vomit. I turned on my hazards, pulled out of line, and opened the door. She went to a ditch, threw up a few times, rinsed her mouth with water, and I asked the Lord to help calm her tummy, to help her make it home, and to miraculously transport us past the slow traffic. We were not transported, but her tummy did remain calm. When we got home she headed to her room, again assuring me she would be just fine – and she would be. She is one of the strongest women I’ve known.

“I was married for a long time before we had kids. I prayed and prayed, asking the Lord for a baby. I finally had a baby. That child died when it was 10 months old. I had five other children. One died when it was two weeks old. I now have four.” “Sara, that is so hard. I am so sorry.” I whispered. And few minutes later, “You were pregnant and delivered six times? You are so strong!” She laughed and heartily agreed it is not easy to be pregnant or have kids.

“Sara! A Bible name,” I smiled. “Do you know Sara was Abraham’s wife and that God called Abraham to a foreign land and Sara went with him? Ah! And Sara you are now being called to a foreign land; you are coming to live with Americans!” She giggled. “We are strange, I assure you, but we do care and we want to take care of you.”

These women. They are strong and courageous. So full of story, so full of life – the beauty with the pain. What a privilege for me and my family to share in their stories, if only for a few months.

Please pray for Inês as she will be having an X-ray, sonogram, and blood test to determine if she is finished with Chemo and can return home. She is so ready to be home.

Please pray for Pedro as he had an MRI this week to determine the next step with his large head wound. The results should be ready in about two weeks. We hope they will be able to do a skin graft and surgery to close the wound. His wife is also due with their 4th child any day.

Please pray for Sara as she is supposed to start treatment next week. Last month her blood levels were not adequate and her treatment was delayed. Pray with us for good blood tests this week. Any delay is more time away from family, which is just difficult.

Please pray for Campande as he, too, has blood tests this week with hopes of starting treatment next week and last month he was a bit anemic and his treatment was also delayed.

We love and cherish your support.