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Questions No One Asked

A Jon Post

***Warning*** This is a pretty long post. Get comfy.

Ok… so… Casa Ahavá, right? You guys all remember that? Remember how we have posted wanting to welcome people here into our house and offer a place of peace, safety, comfort and rest to those friends of ours who have so little of those things?

Well, here’s a few posts about it in case you don’t remember.

1: Back in June of 2010 we wrote about it when we moved into our first house here in Mozambique. Let’s Get to Work.

2: We wrote about it again in September later that year. A Broad Smile.

3: We moved again in July last year and wrote about it for our new house. We’re In.

4: We even wrote about it and kind of detailed it with some pictures in November last year. Casa Ahavá.

Here’s the thing: No one ever asks any questions on here. I know it may seem weird to call us out in a comment and be all public about it but we never even get emails asking “What ever happened to Casa Ahavá?” “When is that supposed to happen?”

Well I’m going to answer the questions no one asked! I know how silly a practice that can be but I’m going for it anyway. I’m in a good mood this week and so I don’t mind employing silly practices when I’m in good moods (just ask my wife about that one).

Q: What (if anything) have you guys been doing to see Casa Ahavá become a reality?
A: We spoke with the director of oncology at the hospital more than a year ago. That director changed without giving us a green light to do it so we spoke with the new director. That director seemed to think it wasn’t a great idea and thought that, if we did anything, we should do it on a completely unofficial basis, not involving the hospital at all (a local lawyer we spoke with advised us that this was a decidedly bad idea from a liability point of view but we decided that we were willing to take that chance and so moved ahead with that in mind). THAT director changed and so we spoke with the newest director about wanting to unofficially invite people from the hospital to stay with us between treatments. THAT director decided that this was such a great idea that we need to involve all levels of the hospital and that I should speak with the director of medicine for the entire hospital about it. Unfortunately he is notoriously hard to sit down in person with so I submitted a letter detailing what we wanted to do and why. After submitting that letter to his secretary, I was told I would be contacted about it when he had a chance to read it over and give an opinion (whew, that took a while to remember all the steps we’ve taken). I never got a call so I began following up with his secretary trying to get a response and get a sit-down with him. Finally, some development started happening when I was referred to the Social Services section of the hospital. After some back and forth (Social Services and director’s office not really being clear about who I should speak to), I was told I needed the head doctor at Social Services to respond to me (there’s more reason to tell you all this than simply boring you with mundane details I promise). More on this in a moment.

Q: How hard have you been working trying to get all this stuff pushed through offices and approvals?
A: Not very.

Q: Why so little effort?
A: Great question. We’ve thought a lot about it and we’ve come to realize a couple things.

1. After living here for almost 3 years we’ve noticed that there are times when the only way to get things done (especially when dealing with government related issues) is to violently and forcefully advance them and push the Kingdom of God ahead.
2. This was not one of those times.
We weren’t sure why we felt so sure it wasn’t one of those times, we just felt a tremendous peace from God that we were to wait for Him and for His hand to move instead of forcing things to move. This perplexed and, at times, grieved us because we’ve watched so many people over the last 3 years with an acute need for a home to stay, and at times, die in. However… we waited. And hoped.

Q: What is that “More on this in a moment” sentence about up there?
A: Ha, so I’ve hooked my imaginary conversation partner! Actually, I’m just conversing with myself, but it’s a good sign when I’m able to get myself on the edge of my own seat waiting to see what I’ll say next right?

So, I was at the hospital last Tuesday visiting and a man approached me. He mentioned he was from the Social Services department of the hospital and wanted to sit down with me some time and chat about what I do and about how we could work together to best serve the patients in oncology. I told him I’d be happy to get together with him and go over those things. He gave no indication he was talking about Casa Ahavá and, in fact, merely mentioned that he saw me visiting and so wanted to chat about that specifically.
We agreed to meet the next day and so I arrived at the hospital on Wednesday with an extra copy of the letter I’d written to the Social Services doctor about Casa Ahavá ready to introduce him to the idea. As we were walking together to a bench where we could sit down he asked me where I stayed, and I told him the area of town my house is in. He responded with, “Are you at all connected to that guy with the house out there who wants to house patients from oncology?”
Taken aback for a second, I replied, “I AM that guy! That’s my house!”

He seemed equally surprised and, with a smile, responded, “Well you need to come meet the head doctor at Social Services with me then!”

Then followed a couple hours of sitting with the whole Social Services department, including the doctor I had not been able to meet with before.
I was able to express our heart in both practical and emotional terms and even share scriptures that move us to act the way we do and offer what we have.

This is what we have been waiting for.

This is God’s hand moving things we had no way of moving on our own.

At the end of the meeting we set up a time when 4 people from Social Services could come see our house and inspect it for it’s readiness to host patients.

Tuesday morning, if all goes well, we’ll host them here and move a large step closer to welcoming the sick and lonely into our home.

Q: Why did it take so long to get to that?
A: It was supposed to be interesting enough to plough through it all to get to the end where you find out we’ve actually got real things happening with Casa Ahavá!

So please pray with us on Tuesday that things go well, that God is glorified, that we love well, and that favor is given.

We’re celebrating. Our God comes through when He tells us to wait. He has made our spirits bright.

Thanks.

Doorway to Casa Ahavá

Doorway to Casa Ahavá

And So We Grow

A Layne Post

The Hellers in Mozambique are expanding once again! I am 8 weeks pregnant with a healthy little life, which already has a strong heartbeat. Isn’t that amazing?

If I’m honest, we were a little surprised at the news, but happiness quickly ensued. We desired a 3rd child soon, so while we needed a little adjustment in our plans, we praise the Lord for His plans. I trust the Lord’s grace will be sufficient, even in parenthood to 3 kids under 3!

I am feeling well, while a little on the tired side, I’ve experienced little to no nausea.

I appreciate your prayers over the coming months.

Thanks for being a part of our family. We are deeply grateful.

Letters to My Dying Friends

A Jon Post

Some times I catch myself thinking over a monologue I’d like to give to one of the many friends I have at the hospital who are dying. They end up looking like letters I’ve written to them, if at least in my head.

Tonight I thought I’d write one down.

 

Dear Manuel,

Did you know I liked you when I first saw you sitting on your bed across the room? You just sat there in silence, a look of quiet kindness on your face and your worn, brown, leather jacket slung over your shoulders as if you’ve known that jacket for years of wind, rain and sun.

The breathing port jutting out of your trachea made a soft noise as your sharp eyes studied mine. I introduced myself and you put a finger over the port so your voice would carry out of your mouth and I heard your raspy name, “Manuel”. Your smile and firm handshake cemented my respect and admiration for you.

We’ve talked off and on over the last 4 months I’ve known you. You seem more comfortable listening than speaking. I know that speaking brings pain now since that hard metal port has been surgically placed in your throat, but have you always seemed like that? Before you came here and had your voice so irrevocably changed, did you listen so much? Did you laugh so softly?

I can tell that, though you haven’t worked it for the many months you’ve been sick, your farm still brings you much pride. It was my great joy to listen to you speak to my older brother about it when he sat with you one day. Even though it caused tremendous pain to speak for so long, you laughed and spoke in depth about the rice, corn, tomatoes and more that you plant there each year. When you asked for a picture standing by his side, just the two of you, my heart leapt with pride and joy that you two, in 3 short days, had grown to know and respect each other so well.

Now you lie in your bed dying, waiting for another surgery on your wounded trachea. What specifically have the doctors told you? Have they told you your prognosis? Do you still dream of being healthy?

I brought you that picture taken standing next to my brother today. You asked for it earnestly last time. What place does his visit take in your memories of your life?

I’m not sure how to close this letter to you. Hope? Truth? Promises? Just lovingly?

Hope? We’ve spoken of it before. We’ve spoken of the faith you and I share that gives assurance to the hope in Christ and His salvation. There is hope there. There is still hope.

Truth? You are dying. It will probably not take long. I am sorry I don’t know how to say that in person. I’m sorry I don’t yet understand you well enough to speak the words of that truth while speaking of comfort and love.

Promises? I promise that I will pray for you until the truth of this sickness is played out. I promise to visit you and stand with you and bring you cans of Fanta and snap shots of my family until then. I do not promise a miracle, or a healing, but I’ll ask the God who can give them that He does.

Love? There is Christ. There is Christ. There is Christ.

And instead of filing this one away into the rest of my unsaid, unspoken, unwritten letters, I’ve written this one out and I’ll share it with the internet. Will I share it with you? Do I have that courage?

I hope so. Maybe not word for word, but I’ll do my best to bring these words to you my friend.

And that’s what you are.

My friend.

 

Yours,

 

Jonathan

Jon is 30!

A Layne Post

Jon had his 30th birthday, and I must say, it was epic. His 3 brothers arrived here in Mozambique on Sunday afternoon. (Alright,  let’s take a moment and think on the awesomeness of that alone… okay, now we can move on.) They got here just 1 hour before his 80’s themed’ Minute to Win It’ party. To name a few highlights, there was a mullet, leather pants , denim, tie-dye, puff sleeves, neon colors, bacon wrapped pineapple, and wacky games. So fun. Thanks to all who made it happen.

No words, no words…

The bros

For Jon’s big birthday present he was given an indoor rock climbing wall. Seriously? Amazing! When I tried to think of the perfect gift, this was it! Our work is emotional and at times stressful and one of Jon’s biggest outlets is rock-climbing. Since having kiddos it has been a little more difficult to make those trips happen, since it is a 3-4 hour drive and then trying to figure out what to do with the kiddos during climbing time. Because Jon’s bros were coming, I knew they could bring some climbing holds for us, something hard to source here, not to mention so much more expensive. Even in the States, however, it is no cheap project, so I couldn’t do it on my own. I want to give a big shout out to:

Dan and Vicki Heller, Pete and Judy Prescott, Chris and Tara Craver, Stephanie Prescott, Ben and Louisa Heller, Joe and Evie Heller, Paul and Becky Heller, Javan Mesnard, Pete and Jenni Jacks, and Matt and Holly Jacks for making it possible both financially and with some physical labor!

Beginning of rock wall construction

So great to work alongside brothers

Some thinkin’

Here is goes

What are we gonna do?

1st climb

Happy birthday, Jon!

Also while the boys were in town they visit the hospital a few times, spend a morning at a ministry very dear to us Masana, and go fly fishing in South Africa.

Jon

Ben

Joe

Paul

The Heller Brothers

It was a quick trip, but one for the books.

Happy 30th birthday, my love, you mean so much to so many people, and me most of all. I love you!

 

Samuel’s Song

A Jon Post

I wrote this in memory of a 17-year-old boy named Samuel who died last week on Monday. Layne, Alice our partner, and I had been asked by his doctor to sit by his bedside to care for him (cleaning, feeding, etc) as he was given too much pain medication to maintain consciousnesses and had no one else to care for him in his last days. We knew and loved him well. This song has been on my heart since and I’m glad I was able to write it and share it here.

We met when you were young
     Not yet 17
          Your eyes were holding a pain I’d never known
We spoke softly I learned your name
     You told me of your home
          Alone and sick your smile betrayed your fear

So you wait in this bed staring death in the face
And oh, there’s more to you than this
I believe together we can find out what it is

So I will visit you
     Though I barely know your name
I’ll laugh and joke and hope to know you well
     Yes I will visit you

I learned that you’d been hurt
     You trusted me with your pain
          We cried and hugged I’d no words to heal the scar
But I told you there was One
     Who does more than simply heal
          He completes our pain in the wordless beauty of His

So you sit in this bed staring life in the face
And oh, there’s more to trust than this
With Him together you can find out what it is

So I will pray with you
     To the One who knows your name
Though you’ve just met He already knows you well
     Yes I will pray with you

The months passed you grew, I watched
     You seemed to grow so strong
          We hoped you’d win this war with your disease
So soccer games and smiles
     Mark these memories I hold
          Chasing balls on broken pavement with a grin

You seem free of your fear of the sting of your death
And oh, there’s more to find in Him
I believe together we can search out what it is

So I will play with you
     And I’ll laugh and shout your name
We’ll chase the sun we’ll hold these memories well
     Yes I will play with you

Then slowly it returned
     The pain you knew so well
          Our feeble hands failed to stop dark tides of this disease
And lying on your bed
     Poison dripping in your veins
          You held tight to the One who gives joy who gives peace… in anguish

So you lie in your bed waiting for death and his touch
But oh, there’s more to tears than this
Crying together we can seek out what it is

So I will sit with you
     And I’ll whisper your name
I’ll plead the blood of Christ will cover you
     Yes I will sit with you

Hours silent by your side
     Slowly pass us by
          Others come and go, I wonder if you still hear me
But your body lost its fight
     Your heart was just to tired
          And the gap between you and Christ came to a close

So you died in this bed with peace on your face
And oh, there’s more to death than this
Some day together you can show me what it is

So I will cry for you
     And I’ll softly speak your name
I’m so glad you let me get to know you well
     Yes I will cry for you

Now you stand
     On legs strong and whole and clean
Now you stand
     In the presence of the One who redeemed your pain

And one day I will stand with you
     Singing glory to His name
Yes I will stand with you
     Singing glory to His name
We’ve eternity to get to know Him well
     Yes I will stand with you

Oh I will stand with you