Author: Layne

Casa Ahavá – Approved!

A Layne Post

I shut my eyes and remember the day like yesterday. A week prior Emilia had taken her last breath in my arms, following a long three days of intense suffering. And my life, well, it had been forever changed.

Now here Jon and I were, car loaded to the brim, headed to pick up our Angolan visas and trek across the continent. We took advantage of all this time in the car and processed the couple of months prior. We had had our first experiences with visiting in Oncology, and now recalled each face, laughing and crying about our dear friends, many we would probably never see again.

Together we decided, after all this reminiscing, this was an area of ministry we did not want to see let go. For some strange reason, a God-reason no doubt, it fit us. And as we continued down the road, I began to dream of Casa Ahavá, not knowing then of the name. I saw in my head, this peaceful blue room with scripture on the walls. A place of comfort, privacy, and peace, so contrasting to the hospital. Jon jumped in. Ideas abounded. And so we let our minds go a little wild and stored up some dreams and visions, and we went to Angola.

Three months later, car loaded to the brim, we were headed back to Maputo, to our Oncology ward, to our friends… at least the ones who had survived three more months. It was settled in our hearts, confirmed with such peace from the Holy Spirit, this is where we were to serve. With claps and shouts and lumps in our throats, choking back the tears which might have seemed strange, we were joyously welcomed back.

Jon and I shared some of our vision with our partners Jorge and Alice and together they helped us draft a project proposal to present to the chief of Oncology and scheduled a meeting. That was 3 years ago.

During the next 3 years we moved houses, renovated two rooms, bought beds, sheets, dishes, stove top, microwave, chairs, etc. The chief of Oncology changed three times. We changed our approach a couple of times. We had 2.75 kiddos. We continued visiting and loving some of the dearest Mozambicans. Casa Ahavá sat ready. We had an inspection. And we waited, frequently needing to remind ourselves of the Lord’s control and His perfect timing.

And while there are a lot of details, almost exactly 3 years after writing the proposal, Jon received a phone call with news on Monday – our project Casa Ahavá has been fully authorized. Isn’t it funny how after waiting so long for something, it can seem so sudden?

Rejoice with us. Give praise to God with us. And pray with us – now is not the time to stop!

Our lives are about to dramatically change. Jon has been in some meetings working out details, but we have hope of having patients in our rooms as soon as next week. We are cleaning floors, washing linens, buying last minute items, writing house rules, and praying lots. There will be adjustments for all involved, and no doubt a bit of a learning curve. We need God’s grace, patience, insight, and supernatural selflessness of which I am sure I am incapable of on my own.

Thank you dear friend, supporter. You have dreamed with us, prayed with us, longed with us, funded us, and now rejoice with us. His dream is being realized.

To God be the glory.

April 17, 2013

Layne

Casa Ahava, Hospital Ministry, Mozambique

9 comments

Filling Time

A Layne Post

A recent question in one of my Bible studies Brave asked, “What does being saved mean to you?”

I felt myself reflecting on that as I thought about this weekend, this remembrance of what Christ did for me – His blood spilled so that I may live, His body raised and Holy Spirit given.

My recent reading of Ann Voskamp’s devotional One Thousand Gifts influenced my response to the question. In one of her journals Ann says, “That in Christ, time is not running out. This day is not a sieve, losing time. In Christ, we fill – gaining time.” A couple days later she expounds a little more saying, “Time is not running out… With each passing minute, each passing year, there’s this deepening awareness that I am filling, gaining time. We stand on the brink of eternity.”

So what does being saved mean to me?

It means I am no longer a dying person. I have received this incredible opportunity that I no longer have to live this life counting down minutes, counting down days, trying to “fit it all in”, waiting for some end. Instead I am able to fill my minutes and my days – fill them up to eternity. I get to soak it all in, experience it to the fullest, slow down enough to take note of Him – to thank Him. I get to live in glorious anticipation of eternity.

In my ministry it has shaken things up. What does this mean for the dying person given months or weeks to live? Christ is hope. He can be yours. Hope can be yours. If you are breathing you still have time to live – to fill. In Christ there is no end… maybe transition, but no end.

Thank you, Jesus for what you did on that dark Friday. (John 19:28-37)

Thank you that your blood offered in place of mine only brought hope and peace to this dying and far away soul. (Ephesians 2:11-17)

Thank you for defeating the grave and living again – that I too might live. (Luke 24:6-8)

Thank you for expelling fear. (1 John 4:18, Romans 8:15)

Thank you for hope. (1 Peter 1:3-9)

Thank you for eternity. (Titus 3:4-7)

March 30, 2013

Layne

Hospital Ministry, Personal

5 comments

Transformation

A Layne Post

I remember being a new Mama.

Somewhere after the hype and excitement of this new little person, after all the cooing and gasping over each new movement, after the adrenaline rush ended and tiredness set in… yeah, somewhere after that, I was left floundering and suddenly not sure of who I was. I thought being a missionary meant giving your life in service, but then this little person invaded every second of my life, and not only that, she was completely and utterly dependent on me. My life of service was just beginning.

As a missionary to the sick and the dying, it was easy to see how I was serving Jesus by holding puke buckets, wiping sweaty heads, and holding weary hands. It felt good to be used by God in such a way. I was obeying the obvious command in Matthew 25:35-40.

As a Mama it was far more difficult to see how scrubbing poopy cloth diapers, soothing a crying baby, or making baby food was service to Jesus.

In my mind I knew the Lord was pleased by my service to my family, but how to feel satisfied in that service wasn’t as easy. I found a place of contentment in serving at the hospital one day a week, all on my own. It was good and right, and I felt like I could breathe again. Not in the escape of my child, but in having something that was mine, that was me. If I’m honest, however, I never found the secret to that satisfied feeling that could be found in poopy diapers, dishes, laundry, etc. There were days it still loomed – discontentment and purposelessness.

And then I had Jovie.

And then I got pregnant.

And here is the deal. I still have the privilege of serving once a week on my own, and usually I get to go another time in the week with my girls, putting me at the hospital twice a week. Those are cherished sweet times I never want to give up, but somewhere over the past couple of years I’ve transformed, thanks be to God, into a Mama. It is who I am. Recently as I felt myself holding a woman’s dying head close to my chest, as I stroked her hairline and kissed her forehead, I realized I do that because I am a Mama. It is so very natural because I am a Mama. I haven’t lost who I was; I’ve become a better me, a more selfless me, a me that looks more like Christ. Sometimes the process of learning selflessness feels like you are losing everything that makes you you, and that is scary. We need to trust our Creator, who fashioned us in our mothers’ wombs. Perhaps you are becoming more you than you knew possible.

And over the last couple of weeks the Lord has been doing some more transforming. He has come full circle and begun to whisper that secret I was searching for a few years back. His tool has been Ann Voskamp’s devotional One Thousand Gifts Devotional: Reflections on Everyday Graces. What I’ve learned is that I’ve been ungrateful. Not purposefully, but neglectfully. In my new-found habit of keeping a “thankfulness journal” I have discovered contentment in caring for my children and husband. Joy that has been found in giving thanks to the Giver – for tan lines, mango salsa, laying in the grass watching clouds, crawling, singing with my children, a home to clean, a rare late morning in bed, etc. As I read on Ann’s blog today:

And “Give thanks IF you are happy” is in reality:

“If you want to be happy — give thanks.”

Giving thanks is what gets you joy.

I have found it true in my life, since I’ve begun purposeful thanksgiving. So reader, give thanks to Him and discover the joy and contentment He has to give.

March 13, 2013

Layne

Around the house, Personal, The Kids

6 comments

When We Beg for Death

A Layne Post

The room was heavy.

She sat hunched over showing me the oxygen tube that had come out, and she needed me to go get a nurse. Her breathing was short. I could hardly believe where the previous 5 days had brought her. Just the week before we chatted about my growing Karasi, babies, and the blessings that children are, even three girls! In this culture boys are prized, so I am often given a sad smile and a reassurance that the next will be a boy. (Next?) That day before I left I remember her saying, “Eu gosto de Mae de Anaya.” (I like Anaya’s mother. – Our equivalent to a casual ‘I love you’.)

This day, even in her agony, she smiled and asked about my girls. And then she winced. Her breast had been taken over by the cancer and had turned into an open wound full of pain and infection. Another tumor in her stomach had appeared just three days previous. It was now the size of a grapefruit. As I sat by her side, she asked me not to leave her. And so I stayed a few hours. Then my friend Alice arrived to sit with her, and then another sweet volunteer, and then I returned, and then Alice spent the night with her. It was not good for her to be alone.

The days to follow would be her last.

Laying down was no longer an option for her as she felt she could not breathe, so as often as I could be there I would go and wrap my arms around her to hold and kiss her weary head that hung in front of her body. When she spoke of this pain and this cancer passing, I spoke of the next life and the hope we find there. Indeed, it would pass. More often than not, however, we were silent. I found myself in a position I’ve been in before – begging for death. There comes a point when the most gracious, most merciful thing the Lord could do is to take this precious life into the next. And what I pray is for an easy, quick transition between the two worlds. In those moments death is not terrifying, continuing life like this is. And so I called out to Jesus. Between the pain and the morphine, she didn’t always make sense, but I cannot forget a clear moment when she looked up and into my eyes and with a smile asked how I was. Me. In her moment, she thought about me.

In my Christian American mind I felt her local family had failed her, leaving her too often alone, leaving me and my friends to care for her in these intimate last moments. I try to be gracious to cultural differences, but I struggled. I am so very thankful that on the night that she passed from this life to the next, it was her husband that was with her, not my friend Alice or me. In that way I believe the Lord was gracious.

And now we no longer pray for her, for she has been made new, but we pray for her family and her two young children that are left here with a large gap in their lives. We pray that Jesus will find His way to fill them up.

February 18, 2013

Layne

Hospital Ministry

4 comments

Lunch with the Paschecos – More Stories From Beira

A Layne Post

There they stood in the heat of mid-day, the four of them with broad smiles across their dark faces. Surprised, we only expected Pedro to lead the way to their home, we pulled off the road and loaded the two men up front and the two girls in the back. Anaya’s thumb went in her mouth as soon as the boisterous greetings began, and Jovie sat staring intently at the new faces in front of her. While they both know Pedro, it seemed they didn’t remember.

The drive to their house was short, though very bumpy. I braced myself by sticking one arm straight above my head pressed into the ceiling while using the other hand to try to keep Jovie’s head from bouncing from left to right in whiplash fashion. Our truck’s roof rack barely cleared the previous evening’s decorations, along with a laundry line we needed to pass. Two men held the line as high as they could above their heads, barely making the path possible. We unloaded from the car, Pedro’s brother, Albino, carrying Anaya into the yard and placing her in his lap. To our amazement, no tears ensued.

The whole family was there to meet us, all thirteen of them. Hands were grasped, kisses were given, and friendships quickly bonded. We were seated beneath the colorful and festive decorations from the previous night’s New Year’s Eve celebration. There were many colored balloons hanging from strings and shiny silver wrapped around trees. To her heart’s delight, Anaya was handed a balloon to play with.

The table was set with a lace tablecloth topped with their best dishes, glasses, and silverware. There were cold Cokes and Fantas ready to serve and six beautiful red pots with colorful flowers patterned on the sides, each filled with fresh warm delicacies. Food would be plentiful.

Straw mats were placed on the dirt ground beside the table for the women and children to sit and eat. However, I was a guest of honor and, not wanting to refuse the generous offer, a woman and her kids sat down at the table with the men.

Pedro’s daughter came around with a plastic basin and a pitcher of cool water, a towel draped over her arm. We washed our hands and dried them. Lunch could begin. We ate seasoned rice harvested from their farm, crab with potatoes in a wonderful curried sauce, and curried, buttered clams.

Anaya came to sit with Dada, rice and Coke being some of her favorites. She spotted a yellow balloon overhead and desire overtook her. With no hesitation, our hosts were quick to oblige her, cutting it down and placing it in her lap. It popped seconds later. She tired quickly of the table and hopped down to do her usual exploring as we continued our meal. Jovie made eating the unshelled crab a bit of a feat for me, as she wanted to get her hands on some. I overcame, with a bit of Jon’s help when he was finished. My pregnant belly sat full and content.

Conversation went around about the family, the farm, house construction, and old friends at the hospital. At one point Pedro grabbed his phone to call a boy at the hospital. He beamed as he told him we were with him right there at his home, and then handed the phone to Jon as to verify his claims.

Anaya found a duck and climbed through the fence to get closer. Before we knew it, she was in the neighbor’s yard, cautiously chasing the fearful duck. We gave warning to only look, not touch, and made sure the neighbor would not be upset.

When lunch had come to a close, the dishes were promptly cleared and out came bowls of freshly cut pineapple and roasted cashews, also harvested from their farm. It was some of the best pineapple I’ve ever had. I had to practice some restraint not to gobble up the entire bowl.

We spent some more time with the family, me sneaking away from the men’s table to appease Jovie, supervise Anaya, and join the women on the mats below. How casual and comfortable the afternoon passed. As the girls’ nap time approached, we said our ‘goodbyes’, everyone anxious to know when our family would return to Beira. Only the Lord knows but one thing is for sure, when we arrive, we will have friends to welcome us.