A Jon Post

Lord, not yet… not now.

Praying out loud, then in my heart, then under my breath, then moving my lips, in English, in Portuguese…

Lord… not yet. Be merciful… not yet.

Filomena Loves Holding Karasi

Filomena sat in the back of my car in a sweaty panic.
“I can’t breathe, Jon. I can’t breathe!”
“I know. I know. You’re going to be fine. You’ll be fine. Just hold on.”

Lord… be merciful. Don’t let her die… not yet.

Our little car screeched onto the sidewalk in front of the 24 hour clinic and I wrapped my arm under Filomena and got her inside.
“She can’t breathe! Where is a doctor?” I asked, trying to communicate urgency to the man behind the desk, while communicating calm to Filomena at my side. “She can’t breathe.”

Lord… be merciful.

In a small examination room, oxygen being piped over her nostrils and mouth, Filomena sat heaving her chest up, desperately trying to fill lungs that refused to inflate and offer her blood its critically important oxygen supply.

“Take it off, I can’t breathe with it on.” Filomena said, clutching at the oxygen mask and pulling its elastic band over her head.
“Wait, dear sister. Wait. You need this air. You need it. I know it feels horrible but trust it. Trust me. You need it. It’s helping. Wait, dear sister.”
“I can’t breathe, Jon. I can’t.”

Lord, not yet… not now.

Filomena had been feeling fine until 9 PM last Sunday night. She had eaten dinner, watched a little TV and at 9, lain down to rest. Her problem started as a slight difficulty in drawing full breaths. She described it as a weight on her chest that she couldn’t take off. She let Layne and I know when it started and we both went to her room to see how she was. She was clearly struggling to breathe so we made the cautious decision to get her to a doctor and make sure it wasn’t anything serious. While I went to find my car keys and wallet, her breathing drastically worsened. When I came back, ready to drive her to see a doctor, she couldn’t draw enough breath to stand up.

Lord… PLEASE

On the examination table she sat there quietly, swaying back and forth from exhaustion but unable to lie down because the little breaths she was drawing couldn’t be found when she lay down. I held her against my chest and kept praying.

Lord… PLEASE

Layne, at home with the girls, echoed every prayer I prayed and rallied our families to join us.

LORD, WAIT! NOT YET!

An emergency X-ray of her chest showed her lungs were full of fluid. The doctor inserted a tube through her ribs and into her right lung. 1.8 liters of yellow fluid came crawling out.
1.8 liters. The average female lung capacity is 4.2 liters.
That’s for both lungs.

Lord… please… be merciful.

Filomena started breathing. It wasn’t perfect, her left lung was still full of fluid, still not doing its job, but she was breathing. She was breathing.
And then she started resting.
At 2:30 I finally felt comfortable leaving her resting. The clinic told me they would transfer her to the central hospital’s Oncology ward the next morning at 6. Come back at 5:30 they said.

Lord… be merciful.

A couple hours rest at home and then back to the clinic to make sure she got on the clinic’s little ambulance and then back home to get two of our other patients and get them to the hospital for scheduled doctor’s visits.
The day blurred by as Filomena was first admitted into the Central Hospital’s emergency room (as is common for clinic-hospital transfers), seen by a doctor there, had a new X-ray taken, had blood tests done, and then… finally… transferred to Oncology to be seen by her oncologist.
The Lord was merciful. She is alive. She’s alive. She’s still very tired a week later, but she’s alive and she’s breathing normally.
He was very merciful.
Filomena is still with us. She’s here and God is good.

Oh, Jesus. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

A Layne Post

Last weekend we hosted an afternoon get together with the Doctors of Oncology. All but one were in attendance, and the one that was unable to come had planned on it, but there was a family emergency. What a blessing to have their interest and partnership! We praise the Lord for His favor. It was a sweet time of them becoming better acquainted with Casa Ahavá, our vision, and our family.

Now that we’ve shared with you our growing vision for Casa Ahavá, I thought I’d share some of my thoughts and feelings about it all. (If you aren’t sure what I am talking about, check the previous post and the pdf included and the video.)

Thinking about the ability to offer a place of comfort and a feeling of home and community to more patients is exciting. Jon and I are consistently approached by patients eager to leave the hospital, wearied by months in the same bed and lack of visitors. With hope in their voices they ask about our project, and Jon and I have to tell them we are sorry but the space is currently filled, though we will keep them in mind if a space opens up. Then when space opens does up, we still have make hard decisions as to who to invite to our home. It is never easy. If we expand we still may not be able to accommodate all that have need, but I would still love to offer more.

I’ve been thinking about managing more patients, their appointments and medications. That seems a little overwhelming; it would require some good organization! We do well enough right now with four, but 10 would be a big increase. Often times their appointments and needs to be at the hospital would overlap so we could transport many patients there at once. That would be nice, but without doubt it would increase our trips back and forth from the hospital, which can feel taxing in the crazy traffic, especially during rush hour. Often it can be 45 minutes or more in the car just one way (More often than not, this is Jon’s responsibility as I stay home with the girls to get them out of bed and get the day started). When feeling well, the patients can take public transport, so that may have to happen a little more frequently depending on schedules.

Then there is thinking about our need for a bigger place and all that is involved with that. The money seems near impossible. Typing all the zeros in $500,000 just makes me want to give up. However, on the other hand, it is so big that I know if it happens it was an act of God alone. There is a certain peace in that. The idea of a bigger place comes with the work of moving and making a new place home with 3 babies, which sounds exhausting, and then maintaining that new bigger place – more work – more money. I really have to turn it all over to the Lord, trusting one step at a time. Deep in my soul, I am at complete peace – something only possible supernaturally.

Dreaming of space for a fitness/wellness room, a garden area, a learning room/library, and chapel area is all rather exciting. Sometimes I get sad seeing our patients with little to do during their time at our home. While rest and recuperation are important, too much down time can lead to too many negative thoughts and discouragement can settle in – I have seen it. Casa Ahavá needs improvement in this way.

Jon and I have talked multiple times about the Lord and His timing. Right now, we believe the Lord has called us to cast the vision. We are trying to be faithful in that – communicating clearly and to many. If you have questions, let us know! We are not sure when the Lord plans to bring the vision to fruition. It seems like good timing right before furlough to the States, but we’ll see what He is up to, won’t we?

Pray with us! Talk with us! Dream with us!

We are so thankful for our team, knowing we are alone as we venture out onto the water. Thank you!