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Author: Layne

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

Update and Thanks

A Layne Post

We returned to the hospital on Monday after 2 weeks of being away. I don’t like being away for that long, but the health of our family and the patients undergoing Chemo was and is most important. It’s always good to catch up. It is going to be difficult for me when Jovie arrives, and we stay home for 6 weeks! Jon will have to keep me informed!

As I made my rounds, one lady recounted her difficult weekend of a having treatment and the hard days that followed, though she ended with a broad smile saying she was better now, gaining strength. Another friend held her head proud as she boasted of her outing that day; she had gone out to walk around town a little. I could tell she felt like her old self, even if only for an hour or so. Still another lay in her bed, unable to start treatment, needing other medication first; her counts weren’t good.  She was discouraged, as this should be her last treatment, but still a smile emerged. These women are so strong.

I ran into a a boy and his grandmother that were back for control, meaning he is finished with Chemo, but still comes every 3-6 months for a check and some tests. He looks great and is growing tall, which is such an encouragement to our hearts, which are so often weary of death.  I gave his grandmother a long hug, and she rubbed my protruding belly as she laughed. They are some of the first patients we knew. She knew me during my whole pregnancy with Anaya, giggled at every ultrasound photo, and now she is doing it again with Jovie. This time; however, only every few months, as she spends most of her time in her own home with her healthy grandson. Just awesome.

In other life news, I am 31 weeks pregnant and nearing the arrival of our little Jovie. It seems the last stretch will fly by. I am throwing a wedding shower for a dear friend of mine in a couple of weeks; Jon will return to the States for his brother’s bachelor party and wedding; then my Mom will arrive in the beginning of June to help with Anaya and daily needs as we ease into becoming a family of 4! What a sweet time of life, and I am so thankful we are all back in good health to enjoy it. The Lord has been gracious to our family.

And finally, I feel like I haven’t expressed lately our gratitude to you. Your love and prayers during the last few weeks was simply breathtaking. I truly believe the Lord heard your cries and moved on our behalf. We were strengthened, encouraged, and ultimately healed. Thank you for your faithfulness to us and to the Lord.

 

April 18, 2012
Hospital Ministry, Personal
3 comments

Monica

A Layne Post

How could I not?

I love when the Holy Spirit makes it that easy, that obvious.

There she lay under sheet, naked and wet. Without control of her bladder, it was nearly impossible to keep her clean. She had been discharged two days before, but without the ability to walk she was dependent on her family to pick her up. Like most, they use our crowded public transport, making it difficult to lay her down to actually get her home. Still, the promise of their arrival kept her hoping. Surely she wouldn’t stay forever, right? Her home is about 5 minutes out of the way of my usual route home… not far. I have a car.

There seemed like no other option: I would take her home.

Thanks to the resources my partner Alice has, we were able to put a diaper and new clothes on her. She looked refreshed, full of hope and energy. Funny how a little pampering makes one feel human. With the help of staff and volunteers she was carried down the stairs and leaned far back in my front seat. I would need a few directions so she would need to see the way, otherwise we would have laid her in the back.

Her frail body was layered in gray pants, a white tank top, and a heavy black sweater, and yet still she was cool. I didn’t have the heart to turn the air conditioning on. My enlarged pregnant body began to protest almost immediately. Sweat began to pour from my forehead as the sun beat through the windshield. It must of been bad because she commented through a concerned look, “You’re sweating.” I gently laughed and brushed it off as part of my pregnancy, “I’m always so hot!” yet inside beginning to panic wondering if it is possible for to make the whole way without frantically flinging my door open, falling out of the car, gasping for air. That would be humiliating.Thankfully that didn’t happen.

After missing the turn the first time and going terribly out of the way to turn around, we finally arrived. The car was unable to reach their home, as usual in these neighborhoods, only a large dirt road nearby. She would have to be carried down the narrow path that led to her red and teal home, and, while this preggo lady has a big heart and a lot of will, I wasn’t sure I could do it. Thankfully a nephew was nearby who placed her gently on his back.

Her family seemed grateful; she seemed relieved. There I left her, leaning in a tattered leather chair, with a promise of my soon return.

The next couple of days I stopped by for visits, mainly to make sure someone was taking care of her and to drop off a few necessities. Jon and Anaya joined me one day, which blessed the family and neighbors greatly, even though my daughter’s quick whines pierced the awkward silences. She does not handle the stifling heat well either. We brought juice and little cakes (muffins).

Yesterday when I arrived for a visit I could tell the newness and warm feeling of “home” was gone. She is lonely. Set in a back room with the doorway covered by a curtain, laying on a mattress covered in plastic, she lays all day, everyday. The liquid morphine helps keep her out of too much of the physical pain. Her busy family bustles in the rooms around, and, while I don’t know for sure,  I suspect no one comes to sit and talk.

Tomorrow I will take some more diapers, some yogurt, a little bottle of nail polish, and a Bible. We’ll have a little “girl time”. I am intentional about the order of that list. I believe people receive the Word, the message of hope, better when they have their basic needs met. We’ll make sure she is clean, not hungry, feeling like a human again, and then maybe, just maybe, her heart will be ready for some encouragement.

Pray for my new friend Monica. Pray for me to know how best to serve her.

March 27, 2012
Hospital Ministry, Mozambique
7 comments

James 5:13-16

A Layne Post

Driving to the hospital I knew I would need to manage my time a bit. I would have an hour an a half, and many times I get so caught up chatting with the ladies on the veranda I never make it inside. There were three specific people I wanted to to see. On the list was a young girl, maybe ten years old, whose tumor has gone from bad to worse. As I drove I imagined conversations in my head, ways I’d like to encourage her and perhaps calm some of her fears, knowing her time on this earth is short.

I arrived, ready to minister.

I walk into the room and in shame she turns sides as I sit, shutting her eyes, covering her face. The skin is taught beyond what seems possible, making her creamy mocha cheek appear translucent. Blood vessels bulge beneath the paper thin covering, while some have burst leaving red specks of blood beneath the skin. Beads of sweat run together, her forehead drenched from the fever. I run my hand over her hairline. She is not up for talking.

Her grandmother sits on the bed with her, legs straight out. A tired smile crosses her face in greeting. She does not speak Portuguese, and I do not speak her language.

I communicate a little through another mother close by, though she does not seem eager to play the role of translator. Ministry is difficult like this. I feel a bit helpless, unable to connect in any meaningful way.

With permission, I pray and then leave, a little dissatisfied. That was not how I imagined it.

Pray for Nelsa. Pray for the Holy Spirit to connect with her, to reveal Himself to her. Pray for an eternity in heaven for her, for her to be healed and her sins forgiven.

March 10, 2012
Hospital Ministry
3 comments

Under the Shade of a Large Tree

A Layne Post

There we sat under the shade of a large tree. It still astonishes me the reprieve shade can bring amidst the hottest of days. The grass poked my legs, and I kept shifting to keep comfortable. There she sat with a small piece of cardboard beneath her, crutches to her side.

She asked about my daughter, forgetting her exact name. I reminded her with a smile, “Anaya. Her name is Anaya.” We chatted about Anaya’s energy and desire to explore, how quickly she has grown. My easy next question: Do you have children? She responded, “I had two.” She went on to explain how she lost her first when he was 8 months old. “Was it malaria?” I asked. She paused a second before responding, “Yes. Yes, it was malaria.” (Perhaps she didn’t really know, perhaps I put words into her mouth. One day I’ll get better at asking questions.) Her second son is still living, but he’s grown now.

“The time for suffering has come,” she said resolutely. She told me how she had lived a very healthy life, never spending time at the hospital. Now when people call for her she must tell them, “I am still at the hospital.”

At home, in the northern province of Tete, she had fallen sick. She had become very weak, even her eyesight was close to gone. She left her entire family and all she knew, and upon arriving at the hospital here in the capital city, she was diagnosed with cancer. The doctors promptly decided that she needed to have her leg amputated, and the surgery was done.

Without much change of emotion she went on to explain that since leaving her home to come to the hospital for treatment, her husband had taken another wife and moved her into their home. She wasn’t sure what would happen when she went back.

Stunned.

You see, I know this is not terribly uncommon, and in many circles  here in Mozambique it is not really considered wrong. But here I was looking at this woman as she told told me her story. I just can’t get my head around it, really, I can’t. There was not anger in her voice. There were no tears that fell as she reported the semi-recent news. This is just life, and life is difficult.

I thought about how I would respond to it all… cancer, losing a leg, husband taking another wife. I think I would want to lay down a die. I think I would be swallowed up in my own tears unable to move. I would have little strength, if any, to keep fighting this cancer, to endure Chemo, to want life. I didn’t say much right then, besides, “That is difficult. I am sorry.”

Here she sat in front of me, no left leg, but body and eyes strong, seemingly full of health. I marveled at the recovery, and we went on to praise God for her life. I encouraged her that the Lord still had plans for her, that he had spared her for a reason. I told her about the strength I saw in her, not only physical, but spiritual as well. She has found a deep hope, a reason to live, a reason to fight.

She lightly laughed about how she fell in the bathroom the other day.  She told me how her arms get tired from her crutches, and she has to get pain medication for that. Does that stop her? No. She was sitting out front, downstairs, on a piece of cardboard, under the shade of a large tree.

 

February 18, 2012
Hospital Ministry
5 comments
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