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Author: Jon

Sleep Well Tonight

A Jon Post

I’m on a couch, thinking about this year, this Christmas, my home and my family. My daughter had been crying in her bed for 15 minutes, hoping that her voice would outlast the time I could resist my compassion getting the better of my parenting technique. It did and I spent the following 15 minutes snuggling with her in my bed, calming her breathing, rubbing her back and kissing her head.

Meh… it’s Christmas. She can have this one.

So I held her and put off writing this because I’d rather she know her daddy loves her than know that she needs to go to bed on time.

She cried, I whispered.

She whimpered, I kissed.

She squirmed, I hugged.

And so we found ourselves lying next to each other. She curled up into my arms and rested her head against my chest. I laid my hand on her back and breathed deep and slow, encouraging her to do the same.

She fell asleep.

My daughter lay there asleep in my arms and I couldn’t think of a better Christmas present.

To those who read this blog and have children, hug and kiss your kids to bed tonight. To those who don’t, remember your daddy loves you.

Sleep well tonight.

My Christmas Presents

My Christmas Presents

Casa Ahava

A Jon Post

So we’re still here in Arizona. Sorry I’m a week late on this post. It feels like we’ve been busy but we’ve had an amazing time catching up with so many Godly men and women.

In sitting down with many of you, we’ve spoken about our future plans and what we would like to do in our ministry. We’ve tried to answer your many questions about what we do and what we hope to do.

As I listened to the questions that have been asked, I realized that I’ve not done a good job in communicating our heart and plans for Casa Ahava, what that means, where we are in the idea and what it holds. I hope this post makes that clear to those of you we haven’t had the chance to sit down with yet.

In our work in the hospital in Maputo, we focus on spending extended one-on-one time with people who have no one else. We try to give hope, life, a smile, and Christ in a place where pain, loneliness and death so often have victory. Our home has an extension behind it where there are two humble bedrooms joined by a bathroom in the middle with a storage/laundry area behind them. When we moved in to this home in June of this year we dreamed of renovating them, painting and furnishing them and offering them to friends at the hospital who would otherwise live in a single bed in a cold crowded room. The rooms began as water-damaged, surrounded by peeling paint, and covered in dirt. Just before we moved in a small team came to visit us. They caught the vision we had to create something beautiful. They worked tirelessly and where they left off I continued the job. At the end of October, two days before we left for America, we finished the renovations/painting/furnishing. I was even able to convert the small laundry/storage area into a kitchenette where guests can make their favorite food.

We are ready.

When we arrive back in Maputo in January we are eager to begin offering the space we have to people who need it much more than we do, pending hospital approval.

Below are some pictures of the work that was done. Just click on the pictures to advance inside the gallery. If you have any questions about this project, it’s funding, or really anything we do or hope to do I’d love it if you would leave that question in the comments. I will answer them the next time I post.

Before

TCF Team Working

Jon Working

Casa Ahava

America

A Jon Post

We are here… America of old and of new. To us this country is both familiar and foreign in equally comforting and disorienting/confusing parts.

Hugs, smiles, cultures that we know and love well. Huge and blemish-free fruits, pre-packaged foods, restaurant meals that could last me for all three daily meals, and cars that drive on the wrong side of the road.

We are here.

We left Maputo, home, friends, dog, and ministry at 5:30 PM on Tuesday and got here in Arizona 27 hours later. We hope you all know how thankful we are to those of you who prayed for our journey. We are so so so so so thankful. God blessed us with extra seats on all three of our connections and Anaya had plenty of room to nap, play and just be an incredible girl for 27 exhausting hours. Layne and I slept very little but that lack of sleep was made so much easier to handle by the fact that Anaya was a dream.

We arrived in the airport terminal and were greeted by many more friends and family than we had expected. What a blessing it is to be surrounded by men and women who love God and who love us.

Anaya wore a little onesie that Layne stitched especially for that greeting. “Big Sister.”

Yes, Anaya is going to be a big sister in (probably) June of 2012.

Layne is pregnant.

We will be here in Arizona until December 7th and we will fly toCorpus Christi,TX after that.

Please don’t forget to pray for us and, more importantly, please join us in prayer for the many friends, men, women and children in the hospital whom we miss dearly.

Getting Ready

A Jon Post

In just one week we’ll get on an airplane and begin a voyage back to the country where we were born (except Anaya).

It’s exhausting getting prepared for that. Trying to put things in order, say goodbye to people here, making sure all of my responsibilities are taken care of. It’s much, much easier to simply put it off… not really think about it… and let it just sneak up on me.

I was standing next to a hospital bed this week and it hit me that João Filipe (the man on the bed) and I have this in common.

It’s exhausting getting ready for this.

He too will be taking a voyage soon. He too is faced with saying goodbyes, preparing for his children (he has 4), and passing on his responsibilities to those he can. He too is exhausted and would much rather simply rest and let the voyage come to him.

His voyage is different than mine. His has no return and his destination is much sweeter than mine. João Filipe will not long stay tethered to this earth. He too is going back to where he was born. And the Jesus to whom he often mutters incoherently is waiting with open arms.

I stood next to his bed for what seemed ages last week. Resting my hand on his younger brother Mateu’s strong shoulder who attends him day and night, I prayed deep, yearning prayers for comfort and for rest. João Filipe’s times of lucidity are short though never without a smile. When he is aware of his surrounds he lights up the room with his praise to his Savior and his gratitude for the visit (I am not sure whose visit he means, mine or Christ’s).

So this week, as I prepare to say goodbye to friends I may never see again, as I prepare my home, as I prepare my family… I remember João Filipe and his smiles. I remember his battle and his time to prepare. I remember how exhausted he is. I remember his brother’s tears…

Get ready João Filipe…

There is nothing better than your coming voyage.

Over a Game of Checkers

A Jon Post

There it was sitting in a cardboard box marked “Free”… a small fold-in-half checker/chess board. Just the week before I had learned the Mozambican method of playing checkers using bottle caps and a tattered old cardboard box with a checkers board drawn on it in fading ball point pen ink. When I saw the plastic board I immediately thought of the men at the hospital and figured it would be a nice upgrade from their torn cardboard. The actual checker pieces were missing but the nice, bright, glossy squares were more than enough turn my eye, put my hand into the “Free box” and tuck the board under my arm.

I left the garage/home sale (some missionaries were leaving town and were trying to get rid of the things they would not be taking with them) and, upon arriving home, promptly forgot I had the checkers board. It lay dormant under the stairs for weeks until, upon a thorough cleaning of the house, I stumbled upon it again and, not thinking much about it, put it near the door so I would not forget to take it to the hospital with me.

When I arrived with it the next day, most of the men I played checkers with were already outside playing on their makeshift cardboard set. Metal bottle caps hoped across the board and turned upside-down when they finally reached the other end to become little queens.

When they noticed the checkers board under my arm most of them thought it was a strangely patterned Bible (because it folded down the middle to form a book shape). When I held it in my hands and offered it to a boy named Edson (only 13 years-old but surprisingly good at checkers) and the group finally realized what it was, grins broke out all around and the cardboard was swiftly swept away and little metal bottle caps were soon flying across our new (well… used, but new to our group) checkers board.

Today, three months later, I have played countless games (and lost nearly all of them… these guys are GOOD) and seen more smiles than I can remember from across this little piece of plastic. When the hinge broke that held the fold together in the middle, I showed up with my soldering iron and, to thunderous applause, soldered the little pin back inside to hold it together so we could continue playing.

Over a game of checkers I have heard about a lovely wife at home, and what is growing at home on the farm. I have heard men tell me about their fears for their future, and their desire to be healthy. I sat quietly as a boy told me about how afraid he was that he might never play soccer again because his leg may be amputated. I laughed and clapped a man on the back as we joked about how strange my own culture is. I wept quietly as a brother told me about his child he has never met because it was born 6 months ago… and he has been here 8. I have spoken of the love of a Savior, I have spoken of death, life, family, solitude, cancer, angels, demons, war, sacrifice, pain and peace.

What a strange job I have.

I love it.