A Jon Post
It wasn’t the first or the last time I will plead that a test return without signs of cancer.
Regina – Returning
Regina will be coming back to Casa Ahavá. She wasn’t cured. God heard our prayers, He listened to us, He wept with us, He knelt beside us, and He withheld the miracle. Regina has cancer on her lungs. Her CT scan stared unblinking at her doctor and I from its fluorescent backlight. It screamed its unapologetic truth at us through her lung tissue and chest. Two spots showed their wispy contrast against health and oxygen. Two nodes where they did not belong gaped back at us from that fluorescent box. Cancer. Metastasis. Pain.
It wasn’t the first or last time I will start a conversation with someone, “This is going to be hard. You are sick.”
Regina will spend the holidays with her family north of the city called Beira in a little village named Marumeu. From there, at the beginning of next month, she will get on a 4 hour train ride, then a 16 hour bus and return to the only place in this country where there is medicine for her. Here in Maputo.
It wasn’t the first or last phone call I will receive informing me that someone has died.
Pedro – Separation
Pedro’s brother called me.
It had been a month since any of Pedro’s family had answered their phone. Pedro’s number stopped working soon after we got him home and his two brother’s number hadn’t been working since the first week of November. Finally, last week, I got a phone call from a number out of South Africa. Pedro’s brother wanted me to know… Pedro closed his eyes for the last time two weeks ago. He held Marcos, his newborn son close, and finally ended the pain of separating his soul from his body. Pedro finally met face to face with the one who passed the test on his behalf.
It wasn’t the first or last time I will remove gauze and tape from a wound and feel the drop in my chest at the sight of a tumor that has only grown, not shrunk.
Benjamin – Unwavering
Benjamin’s pain level has increased though his courage and smile are unwavering. His tumor has grown as he has waited for his body to recover and be ready for another round of chemo. He rests a lot, hoping the pain behind his tumor will diminish and that he may experience a pain-free day. He has been waiting for days now.
These are not firsts nor lasts
Here at Casa Ahavá we have times when it seems like battles are won and we walk in the sun and there is only laughter and relief.
The last weeks have not made up one of those times. These last weeks, there has been shadow. Death’s dark sting has pricked Casa Ahavá twice… Tomás also died last month.
Tomás – Remembered
Tears have leaked from eyes more than laughter has burst from smiles.
Now in our mourning we wait for our Comforter.
I’m so glad that Jesus Himself, asks the Father to send us a Comforter, a Counselor, a Helper, an Intercessor, a Strengthener… who will remain with us forever.
Come oh great Comforter. How we need your help, intercession, strength and comfort now.
Praying Luke 1:79. “to shine upon those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
Jesus, Shiner in Dark Places and Where there is Shadow. Come.
Oh, how I wish I had words to say that would help. That would somehow bring comfort or understanding or…something. But words fail me. My heart aches. I am thankful for a God who does have what I lack. And I pray for His comfort and presence to be tangible.
Oh … oh … oh. My heart aches with the many-faceted pain, even though I can only dimly imagine how it feels to Regina, or Pedro’s family, to Benjamin, or Tomas’ family. To you, Jon and Layne.
Wish I could hug you all.
May beauty somehow rise up from these ashes. May stubborn joy appear unexpectedly around the edges of grief and sadness. May peace unerringly guide your hearts back to their moorings in Christ.
Much prayers and hugs!!!
i’m still here, still reading and praying. :) love you guys, and love the strength and joy that the Spirit flows through you all!