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Author: Layne

Sing Along

A Layne Post

Sing Along – Passion Worship Band

From babies hidden in the shadows
To the cities shining bright
There are captives weeping
Far from sight
For every doorway there’s a story
And some are holding back the cries
But there is One who hears us in the night

From the farthest corners of the earth
Still His mercy reaches
Even to the pain we cannot see
And even through the darkness
There’s a promise that will keep us
There is One who came to set us free

Great God
Wrap Your arms around this world tonight
Around the world tonight
And when You hear our cries
Sing through the night
So we can join in Your song
And sing along
We’ll sing along

Tonight was fried chicken night. Jon recently bought the new Passion Worship Band CD, so I had it cranked up as I worked. Grease sizzled and popped and I sang, prayed, and worshiped with a heavy heart.

This week was my first week back at the hospital alone since Jovie was born. I left both girls with Jon and spent a couple quality hours visiting with some ladies. It was the first time in a long time I felt like I connected, though it has left me burdened all week. The hospital is in one of those cycles we talk about, a season of suffering and death. Just when I think I’ve seen it all, something new shocks me.

Cancer.

I hate it. It robs so many of dignity.

Tuesday I watched as a lady tried to swallow water laying on her back, turning her head slowly from side to side trying to help it pass the rock, which was her tongue covered in sores, and then past the tumor growing beneath her chin. I wanted to help, but there was nothing to do. I prayed. I pray.

A mom lay in bed with her seven year old daughter changing the cotton soaked with blood from her nose every minute or so. The worry was tangible, no words necessary.

Friday I chatted with a lady whose left breast was a tumor the size of a large cantaloupe (at least the visible part was that size). She just wanted to see and meet my girls. Anaya had a poopy diaper, but it was worth the extra 5 minutes to pick her up from Jon and meet this lady, to bring a smile for a passing moment. The woman next to her was on her forearms and knees due to horrible pain in her stomach, but when my girls came in she managed to sit up, smile, and talk to them… then get back to her quiet moans.

It is good to be reminded that we serve a great God who hears their cries, even in the night, who wraps His arms around them, who sings over them, and ultimately who sets them free.

And I have the privilege to join Him in that.

And so do you.

Will you join us?

Sing for Isabel, Joana, Julia, Celina, Samuel, Rui, Pedro, Almeida, Edson, and so many more.

August 18, 2012
Around the house, Hospital Ministry
4 comments

Soul Sculpting

A Layne Post

I remember the day like it was yesterday. I was thirteen years old. The anticipation around the house had been tangible. Somewhere around four in the morning on October 29th, my sister Tara and I awoke; it was time. Our oldest sister Stephanie’s water had broken. About twelve hours later little Lynise was born. I found it strange that as I touched her cheek and looked at her for the first time, I had tears in my eyes. I was moved by the miracle of her arrival, of her life.

Lynise is now 14.5 years old. (I put the .5 because I remember how important it was to me once upon a time. Now I’d rather hide those .5s!) She has been serving in Panama on a mission trip for the last couple of weeks and simply put, she is changing the world. I couldn’t be more proud of her. Somewhere in there, Lynise grew up.

Lynise is a reminder to me that these precious little babies of mine will all too quickly grow up. These days when I never get out of my jammies and pass the time dancing with large hand motions to songs like “I’m in the Lord’s Army” or “This Little Light of Mine”, making grilled cheese, and saying, “No! That is the trash, Anaya! Yuck!”… these days are not for naught. As Ann Voskamp reminds, I am helping to sculpt souls.

From Ann Voskamp’s blog :

Motherhood is a hallowed place because children aren’t commonplace.

Co-laboring over the sculpting of souls is a sacred vocation, a humbling privilege.

Never forget.

So on days like Tuesday when we all make it to the hospital, when I get the chance to introduce my Jovie to sweet sick friends and let Anaya give little waves, when I get to kiss ladies’ faces and laugh joyously about the fact that my daughters are Mozambican citizens… those days are special, but not more so than the ones in the home. We are raising world changers and part of that is feeding them, keeping them safe and clean (ish), letting them explore their imaginations, giving them self confidence by praising them frequently, and training them in the way of the Lord.

July 19, 2012
Around the house, Mozambique, The Kids
5 comments

Ordinary

A Layne Post

or·di·nar·y

adjective

1. of no special quality or interest; commonplace; unexceptional
2. plain or undistinguished
3. somewhat inferior or below average; mediocre.
4. customary; usual; normal

_______________________________________________________________

Ordinary Day

Today marks 2 weeks for our Jovie girl.

Yesterday we were all sitting on the couch, all four of us, and Jon wanted to catch a picture, a picture of ordinary life… well the new ordinary. You see, it seems like only yesterday Jon and I were adventurous young newly weds with a vision on our hearts and passion to fuel it. We took off traveling and searching for a home, a place to spend this God given passion within us. We found that home in Mozambique.

Now when we walk in the hospital we are greeted with happy smiles and familiar ‘Hellos’ by the staff and patients. Some hardly lift their heads from their crocheting and give a simple wave. Anaya is their little ‘Oncologista’ as she toddles around pointing at and naming the animals on the wall in the hallway. We’ve become regulars… ordinary.

When I roll out my tortillas or individually cut my chips to bake, when I make my own white sauce to substitute cream of chicken soup, when I measure in milliliters… it’s my ordinary.

It happens quick, this settling, this ordinary. Jovie has only been here two weeks, and yet my mornings and days have fallen into a rhythm. My mom came for three weeks, and she quickly slipped in. By the time she left she had become accustomed to making the coffee every morning for the three of us, she’d do afternoon dishes, take Anaya to play outside after lunch, she filled Anaya’s juice and milk cups at the end of every night, she’d make bubbles on Anaya’s feet in the bathtub. It became ordinary to have her around.

So I was thinking… I wonder, if this ordinary is so easy to slip into, if it happens so quickly, then what new life things would I like to become ordinary things? And what is the difference of forced adjustment and voluntary adjustment? Jovie is here for good, no options – we adjust. My mom came to visit – stuck in our house 3wks, no options – she adjusted. But then it comes to resolutions and goals and we just can’t seem to get in the groove.

Anyways, I don’t really have an answer, I just got to thinking. Thinking about the joy it is to have Jovie feel like one of us, an ordinary Heller. Thinking about how I miss my mom and hearing her door open in the morning, the lack of what became ordinary. Thinking about how I’d like to be more consistent about reading the Bible with my husband an about prayers with my daughters before bed… things I want to be ordinary.

Ordinary Day

June 29, 2012
Personal
4 comments

My Mom’s Arrival and Our Anniversary at the Fish Market

A Layne Post

My mom has arrived in Mozambique to help Jon and I ease into our soon-to-be family of four. Jovie’s arrival will likely happen this week, and life will change in all sorts of new and adventurous ways. Anaya has taken to her Gee quickly, and I fear we will have a bit of a hard time when she leaves! Anaya is old enough to notice the lack of her presence now. This is one of the difficulties, and probably the worst, we experience living overseas; family is so far!

Gee time!
Sweet memories

It has been a blessing taking my mom to the hospital with us this week and introducing her to patients. It is always such a fun thing for the patients to feel like they get a closer look into our lives, and what better way than meeting my mom! They like to assure her we are well taken care of over here, even if she already knows it. She is also a big help chasing Anaya around the yard, as it is becoming more and more difficult for me.

My mom babysat for us while Jon and I went out to celebrate our 4 year wedding anniversary, which is coming up on the 21st. It was a special and quite fun time together, as my Mom and Dad funded our outing to a local fish market for dinner. We’ve heard about it forever, but never made it a priority to go. I’ll describe the experience for you, as I think it was fun and unique, and perhaps you’ll enjoy reading about it.

4 years!

Upon arrival a waitress with her red apron met us at the car offering to cook the food we were about to pick out, and though many others would vie for our business along the way in a somewhat annoying manner, we decided to stick with the first. They all offer their individual price for preparation, though we had no clue what “prepare your food” meant. Spices? Butter? Boil? Grill? We could have asked, but what fun is that? The first waitress gave us a good price, according to the advice were were previously given, so we agreed and refused the many other insistent proposals.

We then entered the market area made up of dirt floors and a tin roof.  There is a small area with wooden tables set up covered in all the variety of seafood you can imagine. Rows of different kinds and colors of fish, basins of shrimp (prawns), mussels, oysters, octopus, etc. The vendors proudly show you the inside of the gills, assuring you of the freshness of the fish, though Jon and I, not being connoisseurs, had no clue if they were telling us the truth . You pick out what you want, pay by the kilogram, and then they place your fresh seafood into black plastic grocery sacks, which, if you want prepared, you then give to the waitress of your choice. Otherwise, you are welcome to take it home and cook it for yourself. Jon and I chose a red fish and a 1/2 kilo of prawns to share.

From there you are led into a large square filled with plastic tables and chairs that are covered by cloth umbrellas. You can order drinks and decide on the sides of your choice; salad, rice, or french fries. The food is slow to be cooked, so in the meanwhile music blares from less than desirable speakers, men walk by selling their goods (paintings, bracelets, fabric, etc.), and children dance as they laugh, run, and play. Because it was the weekend, we had the treat of  live music. The man played the guitar and harmonica and sang. He had his microphone placed between his chest and harmonica stand holding it just so as he sang with his head tilted down. It was an impressive sight!

When the food arrived, Jon and I were pleasantly surprised; it looked amazing! It turned out to be some of the best seafood we have had since living in Mozambique. And the company… well, my husband is amazing; I enjoyed every minute. I love him more than ever.

June 10, 2012
Mozambique, Personal
4 comments

Encouraged by Alice

A Layne Post

“Isn’t today Monday?” she asked, a bit perplexed.

“Yes. I can’t come tomorrow, so I wanted to come today,” I explained.

I usually visit the Dermatology ward on Tuesdays, and Jon keeps Anaya at home. I knew Alice had been there a long time, but I didn’t realize how long. She had become a regular visit for me, always insisting on my prayers before I left. She is from Maputo and her husband visits near daily. While Jon and I try and focus on those without visitors, sometimes someone just catches a place in your heart, and that’s what Alice has done. The second week I visited and remembered her name, she was delighted! (I am not always so successful in this area, but I do try! In this case it helped that our  ministry partner’s name is Alice.) She is usually full of optimism, but I’ve watched the expression on her face change as time has passed.  Yesterday when I asked her if she would be completing two months there, she scoffed, “Two months? No! This will be five months!”

Five months.

She has watched every other patient in the ward come and go. Sometimes she has someone in the room with her, sometimes there are weeks she is alone. Some 20 plus hours, alone.

The hospital is slowly renovating their wards, but unfortunately, they haven’t made it to Dermatology, which is in dire need. I want to respect the hospital, so I will not describe all that I see, but the conditions are not nice, especially for living there five months.

I laid in bed last night praying for Alice, thinking that I just cannot imagine being in her place. I tried and I just can’t. I have been a bit sulky about my husband taking an upcoming trip, about the weather, about some minor health nuisances that have come with this pregnancy, but last night those things seemed so trivial, so “doable”. And I was encouraged.

So maybe this week there are some things that have got you down, that seem like a lot, that seem hard to handle or perhaps just a nuisance, and maybe you can remember Alice. Maybe it will encourage you, like it did me.

May 8, 2012
Hospital Ministry, Mozambique
2 comments
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