Author: Layne

A Layne Post

Maninha has a 3 year old little girl named Tanya. Tanya is talking more and more and loved chatting with her Mom on the phone. Maninha had been away from home (here at the hospital) for six months and was growing weary from being away from her family. She always loved seeing Anaya and watching her play, probably imagining her own little girl and the changes happening in her absence.

Her last round of Chemo took it’s toll. Arriving at the hospital, I turned the corner into her room, and there she lay. She didn’t need to say anything; I could see it, she was sick. The sweat was beading on her forehead. “Mae de Anaya, estou mal.” (Mom of Anaya, I am bad.) I assure her I can see that, grab her hand and begin praying for relief from her pounding headache and fever.

The treatment ended, and she was weak. Without the will to eat, she became quite fragile. She concluded she didn’t have the energy to fight anymore and decided to go home. This process takes a couple of days, arranging transport and whatnot. She was unable to sleep, becoming somewhat delirious. During her last days in the hospital she just wanted to be held. She reminded me much of a little child, wanting to be cradled, not wanting to be alone. Scared. Scared of what was coming. She would whine through tears how she would never see Jon, Anaya, and me again. I assured her, with her head resting on my chest, that we would remember her, that we would pray for her, that we love her.

She is home now. Would you pray with us? Would you pray for Maninha during the days to come? Would you pray for Tanya during the little time she has with her mom, and for coming years without her?

Thanks for joining with us, for partnering in this ministry.

A Layne Post

“Hoshana” (הושענא) is a Hebrew word meaning please save or save now.

“Hosanna” (Greek transcription: ὡσαννά, hōsanna) is the cry of praise or adoration shouted in recognition of the Messiahship of Jesus…

It seems that “Hosanna” is a cry for salvation; while at the same time is a declaration of praise.

They brought the donkey and the colt and placed their cloaks on them for Jesus to sit on. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!”

“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”

“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

Matthew 21:7-9

Today I sat in a hospital looking into the eyes of a lonely thirteen year old, whose face and neck are being taken over by cancerous tumors. I rubbed her back as she cried in pain, no parent to comfort her, not even one in the same country.

Hosanna. Please save.

I glanced over and made silly faces at a little girl whose mouth is being deformed by a tumor, her teeth literally moving. After she fell asleep she was startled awake with difficulty breathing.

Hosanna. Save now.

Jon played a game with a eleven year old boy as his chemo treatment ran, who laughs to escape thinking of the friend/mentor who died three weeks ago. A boy who has lived fifteen months alone, bravely enduring treatment.

Hosanna. Please save.

Today a sixteen year old boy being taken over by fear asked Jon, “Do you think I’ll die here (in the hospital)?”

Hosanna. Save now.

“Where, O death, is your victory?

Where, O death, is your sting?”

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

1 Corinthians 15:55-56

Hosanna. Lord we praise you.

A Layne Post

I remember the first day that two little girls came running down the driveway of the hospital. They were accompanied by the usual boys, who were excitedly shouting, “Tio Jon!” as they ran. Somehow in the beginning Jon and I became ‘Tio Jon’, yes, me included. It seems to have changed recently, however, when I met these little girls, we were still ‘Tio Jon’.

Their names were Rudu and Esperança. I had never met them before, but it didn’t matter; they each grabbed one of my hands as if we had been buddies for years. Their giggles would melt your heart. Just two little girls… two friends who liked to run and play.

Rudu

Rudu has a large tumor on her face, making one of her cheeks look large and puffy. She is a bit shy, seemingly self-conscious of her condition; however, she eats up attention as much as the others. She gives sweet hugs and loves to be in your lap. Her eyes are beautiful and smile when her tumor keeps her lips from doing so.

Esperança

Esperança was the exact opposite of Rudu. She was loud and unhindered in everything that she did. She was all smiles, even while missing her front teeth; it was precious. She would squeal and yell, even when it was terribly inappropriate. Her energy was contagious.

For a couple of weeks the girls joined me in some of my visits with the ladies. They would sit in my lap or hang on the side of me; they just needed some physical touch. At times the sick women would be bothered by Esperança, and I couldn’t blame them, though I was unable to keep myself from smiling when I looked at her toothless grin. She was easy to love.

Esperança died this last week. Even though she had cancer, she died of pneumonia. The lack of her presence will be felt immensely. As for Rudu, she may be the next to go, as she has taken a turn for the worse. Her tumor grows more each week. Her sweet smile is gone, and even Anaya cannot bring it. It breaks my heart. She can no longer eat solid foods because the tumor is crowding her mouth. It brings memories of José Manuel.

Please pray for Esperança’s family.

Please pray for Rudu.

A Layne Post

I will not soon forget the sound of the clapping and cheers that welcomed Anaya and me as we approached our friends at the hospital for the first time as Mom and daughter. Everyone gathered around waiting to get a peek, to touch her little foot poking out of the sling, to grab my hands and kiss my cheeks.

Originally we planned to wait a little longer; however, I received news that two of the ladies I have known for months would be heading home over the weekend. I could not stand to think they would never meet Anaya; they had been such a part of my pregnancy, sharing in the joys of new ultrasound pictures, worrying and praying with me when her heartbeat was irregular. So we decided to make an exception and go early.

Anaya in her sling

We planned our trip during her nap time, hoping she would sleep in her sling. This would allow people to see her precious face, yet hopefully reducing the requests to hold her, as we still want to protect her little immune system. She did beautifully. A few women still asked for me to ‘give her to them’ or to ‘borrow her to them’, but I was able to say no, and for the most part the women were gracious.

It was a delight to see the joy my daughter brought to the faces of the sick. Even those in bed on treatment wanted a peek at this precious little girl, and when they got a glimpse, smiles would emerge across their tired faces. I worried a bit that the smells may bother her, but she didn’t even flinch. She did sweat like crazy in her sling, but that is part of life getting out and about in Maputo and, thankfully, it doesn’t seem to bother her too much; she is already hard-core. Ha!

We’ll take it slow, transitioning Anaya and me back into ministry, but it is an exciting step! For now I think we’ll aim at once a week and continue to see how it goes. In the African culture, which is probably not so unique to other cultures, me having a baby is a bridge between our differences; suddenly we have so much in common! I look forward to deeper relationships with Mozambican ladies, because of this new season of life that God has brought me into.

_____________________________________________________________________

Thanks for your ongoing prayers and support, both emotionally and financially. There have been some things lately that have reminded me how blessed Jon and I are to have such a network of supporters that keep us on the field. You are on my heart. May the Lord pour out His blessing  and presence upon you. We love you!