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A Week at Casa Ahavá

A Layne Post

This week I thought I’d give you guys a little glimpse into a week with Casa Ahavá. It is a little difficult to give you an exact picture because each week and each patient varies, but in general here an overview of what is involved:

Each patient is on a 21 day schedule of receiving their Chemotherapy. The day before Chemotherapy, the patient needs blood work done to make sure all is well enough with their body to be hit with such strong doses of medication. That means they need to arrive before or at 7am – leaving our house between 6 and 6:15am to get a simple blood draw. Granted nurses are there and easy to comply with, this is a quick process and the patient can return to the house with Jon as soon as finished. If the results prove the patient is healthy enough to receive the cycle of Chemotherapy, they will return the next morning before or at 7am – leaving our house between 6 and 6:15am. They are then admitted for at least 1 night and depending on how their body responds, they return the next day or a couple days later. (At times the nausea and vomiting that Chemotherapy induces requires a day or two of IV re-hydration.) In general, Jon does these runs so that I am able to sleep in a bit and then get the girls up and going when they are ready.

From time to time a patient will simply need their blood work done for the doctor to see and get a general idea of the patient’s health, so we will then take them, again, first thing in the morning, and then return home with them as soon as they done.

So all of that to say, Jon is usually doing about 2 morning runs to the hospital a week – up at 5:30am, out the door at 6:00am, and then home usually between 9 and 10am. If things have gone slowly for one reason or another, then Jon will visit with the other patients at the hospital during that time and not return in the afternoon. If things move smooth and quick, he comes back, and then he or I return at 1pm in the afternoon to visit. During a normal week, Jon will visit 4 afternoons and I will visit one, spending anywhere from 1.5-3hrs at the hospital chatting with and trying to encourage patients. Post-Chemotherapy a Casa Ahavá patient or patients will just come home with us after Jon or my afternoon visit.

1 morning a week around 9am we offer a little Bible Study over muffins and tea and then do a general house-keeping meeting to make sure all is going smoothly in this little community.

1-2 nights a week we invite the patients to eat dinner with our family. If the patients have had a rough week, due to pain or recovering from Chemotherapy, this number may increase, though they’ve been wonderful about taking care of one another. They make their own food for the most part and do their own grocery shopping at small local markets on our street. Our little Heller family tends to receive 1-2 meals a week at the courtesy of our sweet Eliza.

In the morning you will usually see the patients moving around, making breakfast and tea, doing some laundry by hand even though we’ve offered the machine, sweeping their kitchen, sweeping our yard even though Jon has showed them the rake 100x, picking up dog poop, or trimming some trees. Sometimes this is the time they’ll go for a little walk or do a their grocery shop.

Lunch time they tend to eat in their kitchen, and sometimes on especially nice days you may find them eating on the table outside.

Everyone naps or at least lays down for 1-2hrs in the afternoon.

Typically, the girls and I (or Jon if it is his afternoon home) spend our post-nap afternoon outside on the lawn with whoever is out there. For the most part, Mozambicans think the house is for sleeping and spend a majority of their time outside. Eliza likes to crotchet the day away, either sitting in her black plastic chair outside the kitchen, giving her pot of food an occasional stir, or laying in the grass shooing our large dog. The men like to sit outside and listen to their radio or watch TV inside their room.

After 7pm, and sometimes earlier, we usually don’t see anyone again until the morning.

Weekends are low key. Sometimes we’ll have a visit from a sister or brother-in-law. A game of croquet may be enjoyed in the lawn. The patients enjoy attending church with us on Sundays.

 

So maybe that gives you a little glimpse? I hope so. Overall the patients have overwhelmed us with blessings and community and have required very little outpouring on our part. Thanks for your continual prayers. We still currently have 3 patients – Papa Zakarias, Tia Eliza, and Tio Tomás. We are in discussions and prayer over our 4th right now – please join us! We would like to add one more woman to our community before little Karasi joins us – our 5th Heller!

He’ll Have Two Legs Soon

A Jon Post

There are some things I don’t really know how to write down.

As much as the American side of me wants to hold on to the idea that a crisis is just a lead up to a triumph… sometimes a crisis is simply a precursor to collapse. Sometimes victory does not come. Sometimes death’s mocking smile is all the reward that comes at the end of a battle. These times are neither easy to write down nor pleasant to do so. But they are important to remember. It’s important that someone is spoken for. So we write them down.

Papa Xavier arrived in the hospital in December last year. His soft smile and calm eyes were the first things I noticed. He was strong… perhaps too strong for a man with only one leg. Despite his strength, he is tender and meek. He is quick to laugh and slow to find offense or to even frown. When I offered New Testament Bibles to the men he was quick to begin reading and quick to humbly share what he was reading. We read over Matthew chapter 5 together back in March. He soaked it up.
He has five children. The youngest is 3 years old. Three boys, two girls. He loves them all dearly. He grew up in a distant village in the Mozambican province of Inhambane. He is proud of his heritage and his tribe. He loves speaking his language.
He loves my daughters. Especially Jovie. I brought Jovie to his room many times and, though initially hesitant, she soon leaned away from me and into his arms whenever we were in a room together. His tender arms wrapped around her, and he always allowed her to pull on lips, nose, or ears when she was in his arms.
He loved to play soccer with the young men of his village until his leg got too weak to keep playing. Even after he stopped playing soccer he still kept up with the Mozambican soccer league and often talked about his days of activity and sports. It was hard to go from being strong and athletic to having a leg amputated just below the knee because of a tumor growing there. When he arrived his body reflected the joy he had found running and playing. After 6 months of cancer ravaging through his system it was hard to see but, because I still remember how he arrived, I could still see the echoes of his strength.
On Friday last week Jovie and I walked into his room one more time. An ambulance was taking him home the following morning. He was going home to die. He has been fast losing this fight, and he has not seen his 3-year-old since November last year.
Jovie squealed and sat on his bed and reached for Xavier’s face. With shaking hands and barely the strength to raise his head he beamed at my daughter and reached for her waving hands. She melted into him. She threw herself onto his broken body and his weak laugh filled the room like a hymn. “Ah, Jovie” his soft voice said. We sat together for some time and Jovie soon got restless. Our prayer mingled together with tears, and Jovie and I walked away.
Over these last 3 years these kinds of goodbyes have always been hard. They should be and I hope they are never easy. I am so honored to have stood next to Xavier for these last 6 months and I look forward to standing with him for eternity. He’ll have two legs again soon.

Casa Ahavá Continues

A Layne Post

We continue to enjoy and learn about living with our sweet friends Zakarias and Eliza. What gracious loving friends we have been blessed to start Casa Ahavá with! My girls are so comfortable with their presence; it makes me smile. Jovie happily let Eliza carry her around the yard yesterday without even a glance towards me. These are such special moments and memories to store up.

Sitting with her Adopted Grandma

Sitting with her Adopted Grandma

Zakarias, who is not used to sitting and resting, has taken an active role in the upkeep and improvement of our yard. I think by the time he finishes treatment we will have a functioning garden. We are thankful for his work and happy he has an outlet to forget his sickness, though we are often reminding him to relax a little. Eliza always offers our family whatever food she has made, and we keep reminding her that while we are grateful and her food is yummy, she only needs to cook for herself and Zakarias if she wishes. I love to look out my kitchen window and see her sitting, shawl wrapped, crocheting beautifully with Gasher at her feet in utter bliss.

We have offered on a couple occasions for them to come along when we are heading to the hospital for a visit, thinking they may be bored or missing friends there; however, our offer has been hurriedly turned down. They do not want to go back until they must for treatment. We’re so glad the rest here is preferable to returning to the hospital.

As we start this week, if they are interested, we are going to try and implement a few scheduled times of Bible study, prayer, sharing, etc. Pray for us as we look for continued ways to love on our friends and point them to Christ – the only One who truly gives comfort, peace, and strength. It isn’t that our friends don’t know Christ; we just want them to be ever reminded that it is Him providing for them right now, not some strange nice Americans.

Pray for us as well as there is much need at the hospital and currently limited space and resources available at Casa Ahavá  right now. As patients become aware of Casa Ahavá, there is more interest and petitioning. Of course, we have desire to relieve loneliness and discomfort of each person in need, especially for those asking. We need discernment as we select patients to come home with us and join our family, and we need wisdom about adding beds and potentially increasing the number of patients at Casa Ahavá.

We are so grateful for your support and love. I am sure much of the ease in transition is because Christ is answering your prayers. Thank you.

First Steps

A Jon Post

This will be short. I don’t really have that many words to describe this anyway. We’ve been waiting and praying for 3 years for this.

Friday, April 26th, our first guest and friend arrived at Casa Ahavá.

Papa Zakarias has been here for 2 days now and both God and he have been extremely gracious as we’ve all begun learning how to live together.

Playing checkers in our back yard on a rough wooden table, throwing a ball with Gasher, smiling with Anaya and Jovie, Papa Zakarias is such a welcome addition to our home and we look forward to having many more papas, mamas, aunties, uncles, brothers, sisters and friends stay with us.

Thanks for praying for and with us that this would happen. It is now happening. What a glorious day.

Casa Ahavá – Approved!

A Layne Post

I shut my eyes and remember the day like yesterday. A week prior Emilia had taken her last breath in my arms, following a long three days of intense suffering. And my life, well, it had been forever changed.

Now here Jon and I were, car loaded to the brim, headed to pick up our Angolan visas and trek across the continent. We took advantage of all this time in the car and processed the couple of months prior. We had had our first experiences with visiting in Oncology, and now recalled each face, laughing and crying about our dear friends, many we would probably never see again.

Together we decided, after all this reminiscing, this was an area of ministry we did not want to see let go. For some strange reason, a God-reason no doubt, it fit us. And as we continued down the road, I began to dream of Casa Ahavá, not knowing then of the name. I saw in my head, this peaceful blue room with scripture on the walls. A place of comfort, privacy, and peace, so contrasting to the hospital. Jon jumped in. Ideas abounded. And so we let our minds go a little wild and stored up some dreams and visions, and we went to Angola.

Three months later, car loaded to the brim, we were headed back to Maputo, to our Oncology ward, to our friends… at least the ones who had survived three more months. It was settled in our hearts, confirmed with such peace from the Holy Spirit, this is where we were to serve. With claps and shouts and lumps in our throats, choking back the tears which might have seemed strange, we were joyously welcomed back.

Jon and I shared some of our vision with our partners Jorge and Alice and together they helped us draft a project proposal to present to the chief of Oncology and scheduled a meeting. That was 3 years ago.

During the next 3 years we moved houses, renovated two rooms, bought beds, sheets, dishes, stove top, microwave, chairs, etc. The chief of Oncology changed three times. We changed our approach a couple of times. We had 2.75 kiddos. We continued visiting and loving some of the dearest Mozambicans. Casa Ahavá sat ready. We had an inspection. And we waited, frequently needing to remind ourselves of the Lord’s control and His perfect timing.

And while there are a lot of details, almost exactly 3 years after writing the  proposal, Jon received a phone call with news on Monday – our project Casa Ahavá has been fully authorized. Isn’t it funny how after waiting so long for something, it can seem so sudden?

Rejoice with us. Give praise to God with us. And pray with us – now is not the time to stop!

Our lives are about to dramatically change. Jon has been in some meetings working out details, but we have hope of having patients in our rooms as soon as next week. We are cleaning floors, washing  linens, buying last minute items, writing house rules, and praying lots. There will be adjustments for all involved, and no doubt a bit of a learning curve. We need God’s grace, patience, insight, and supernatural selflessness of which I am sure I am incapable of on my own.

Thank you dear friend, supporter. You have dreamed with us, prayed with us, longed with us, funded us, and now rejoice with us. His dream is being realized.

To God be the glory.