Author: Layne

A Layne Post

Marta. Something about her has captured me.

Sweet Marta is twenty-two years old. The first time I met her she looked absolutely terrified to be there in the Dermatology ward. After chatting a bit, I realized she just needed to be distracted. By the end of our conversation I had even gotten a few smiles and laughs.

Her family lives quite far from Maputo, only an Aunt is in town, but she didn’t have her phone number. She did, however, know where she worked. Now, I don’t know the city well, and probably would never be able to find “somewhere someone works”, but the Lord had something else in mind. When Marta told me the school her Aunt worked at, I realized it was literally 2 streets away from my house! I jotted down her name, and while I couldn’t promise she’d visit, I could promise an effort in finding her. My mother-in-love, Vicki, was here at the time, and we went and found her the next day. We informed her of Marta’s situation and that was that.

Now, weeks and weeks later, she has only visited once. I quit asking, as it always came with a face of disappointment. Maybe it wasn’t so much about the Aunt coming, maybe it was more about Marta knowing I cared enough to track this lady down for her, even though we’d only met once. I may not be able to promise visits from her Aunt,  but I can promise my own.

Still my visits usually found Marta with watery eyes, full of fear and loneliness. I would encourage her as best I could and give as many kisses to her forehead as seemed appropriate during my visit. Even a short term team I hosted commented on her discouragement.

One week Marta was looking particularly bad; I was actually worried for her life. I noticed her long nails, and the Lord reminded me of the clippers I saw on the side table of my other friend across the hall. I borrowed them quickly and clipped her nails for her. It was a simple act, but she seemed appreciative. I asked her if she liked painting her nails, and the answer was, of course, “Yes!” That was something I could do easily and cheaply! I promised a day of painting nails sometime soon.

That day on the way out she asked for a sweater; she was topless under a blanket, and it is winter here. My partner Alice has some donated clothes and sweetly volunteered to take one by to her. A week later when I visited, she seemed to have taken a turn for the better. She proudly donned her new sweater and assured me she stays warm. Her face was clean, and her skin moist, a big improvement from the week before.

Another day I brought chocolate chip cookies for a friend’s family, who had given me some veggies from their garden, and I thought it was a perfect opportunity to bless Marta as well. I threw 5 cookies into a little container and dropped them by her room. On my way out, she was already eating them, and with a big grin assured me how much she liked them.

The day came for painting nails. I picked out a very bright cheerful pink. While Marta was my goal, I ended up painting 5 other pairs of hands as well. How special to see the way the women lit up from such a simple treat. Here among the holes in the floor and the rats, we had a salon day. I smile, even now, just thinking about it. But Marta… Marta had the sweetest face as she admired her pink nails with butterfly decals (Thanks Lynne Hartke!).

Now when I get to Marta’s room I am greeted by a big smile.

Sometimes it is the simple things, things I feel only come with relationship…

When a visitor turns into a friend.

A Layne Post

Her name means ‘Give Light’. For months this little eight year old was shy and introverted. I would try to talk with her, compliment her painted toes and colorful skirts, bring Anaya by her side, etc. but I could not get much of a response. I remember thinking how sad she looked and feeling frustrated I could not break through the wall she had surrounded herself with. She seemed ashamed of the large tumor protruding from her eye, even though she was, and is, surrounded by people in the same situation. Still I tried; reminding her that I thought she was beautiful.

A couple weeks ago something changed. I do not know why, but she chose to open up to me. She didn’t have to; they never do, yet she chose, and I consider myself the privileged one. She was receiving treatment when I arrived at her bedside, and her hand reached out. My heart leapt as I grabbed it. The time passed while I sat in her bed, rubbed her arms and legs and traced her little hands. She would tickle me, slap my hands and giggle as I responded. Every now and then she would rest her head in my cupped hand, and I would take the opportunity to kiss her precious head. When it was time to go, she begged for me to stay. That is the hardest part. I promised my return and gave a few more kisses.

Now, every time I arrive, her face ‘gives light’. Her tumor is growing; however, she is more beautiful than ever, this precious eight year old girl. I do not know what the future holds for her. If I relied solely on my experiences, it does not look good. I have already cried many tears for her suffering. May the Lord be merciful.

Thank you for your support, which allows me to sit with an eight year old girl suffering in a hospital bed, to try somehow to be the touch of our heavenly Father. Thank you for the impact you are making here in Maputo, Mozambique.

His love always wins.