jon and layne heller | Casa Ahavá and our Family

Soul Sculpting

A Layne Post

I remember the day like it was yesterday. I was thirteen years old. The anticipation around the house had been tangible. Somewhere around four in the morning on October 29th, my sister Tara and I awoke; it was time. Our oldest sister Stephanie’s water had broken. About twelve hours later little Lynise was born. I found it strange that as I touched her cheek and looked at her for the first time, I had tears in my eyes. I was moved by the miracle of her arrival, of her life.

Lynise is now 14.5 years old. (I put the .5 because I remember how important it was to me once upon a time. Now I’d rather hide those .5s!) She has been serving in Panama on a mission trip for the last couple of weeks and simply put, she is changing the world. I couldn’t be more proud of her. Somewhere in there, Lynise grew up.

Lynise is a reminder to me that these precious little babies of mine will all too quickly grow up. These days when I never get out of my jammies and pass the time dancing with large hand motions to songs like “I’m in the Lord’s Army” or “This Little Light of Mine”, making grilled cheese, and saying, “No! That is the trash, Anaya! Yuck!”… these days are not for naught. As Ann Voskamp reminds, I am helping to sculpt souls.

From Ann Voskamp’s blog :

Motherhood is a hallowed place because children aren’t commonplace.

Co-laboring over the sculpting of souls is a sacred vocation, a humbling privilege.

Never forget.

So on days like Tuesday when we all make it to the hospital, when I get the chance to introduce my Jovie to sweet sick friends and let Anaya give little waves, when I get to kiss ladies’ faces and laugh joyously about the fact that my daughters are Mozambican citizens… those days are special, but not more so than the ones in the home. We are raising world changers and part of that is feeding them, keeping them safe and clean (ish), letting them explore their imaginations, giving them self confidence by praising them frequently, and training them in the way of the Lord.

July 19, 2012

Layne

Around the house, Mozambique, The Kids

5 comments

His Sunday Best

A Jon Post

My dad read a book a few months back about excess and the American lifestyle. It stirred something in him and he made several personal commitments as a result, including giving away many of the excess clothes he owned.

My dad has worked in the corporate world for years and one of the more enjoyable parts of that job is that he plays a lot of golf and gets to collect a metric ton of golf shirts along the way. You know those really cool shiny ones with that “Sweat wicking technology”, or the ones that have some strange relationship with helium so they kinda weigh less than air, or (my personal favorites) the ones that are so in tuned with the game of golf they were hand woven by the 80-year-old blind Scottish widows of the great Scottish golfing gods of the peat and they are guaranteed to reduce your golf score by at least 3 strokes? Yeah, my dad collected a bunch of those different kinds of golf shirts along the way.

So he read this book and realized that he has a bunch of scottish-hand-woven-sweat-wicking-helium golf shirts and he doesn’t wear about 90% of them. So he called me up and asked me if I could give away any he might send me! Despite our general decision to not pass out gifts to everyone (we try to keep our relationships based on the time we have with people, not the free things we might hand out) I made an exception for my father and told him I could. I have many friends here, old and young, who show up at the hospital not imagining they will be spending the next 6-12 months in the hospital living with a mere one or two outfits.

A few boxes in the mail later and I happily showed up at the hospital with a backpack full of top-of-the-line men’s golf shirts. I handed them out to the men I knew there and explained they were from my father. They all expressed their immense gratitude to him and I passed along the word of thanks in a phone call.

I occasionally see one or two of my friends there wearing their shirt but it is rare. These are scottish-hand-woven-sweat-wicking-helium golf shirts, not to be worn on any regular old day!

When I gave Nelson his shirt, he smiled broadly and held it up and fingered the smooth texture gently. His quiet nature did not allow for expressive shows of gratitude, loud words, or big hugs. He just looked me squarely in the eyes and solemnly said “thank you” with a smile. He didn’t say it but the way he held it made me think it may be the nicest shirt he had.

I didn’t see him wear the shirt until yesterday.

Last week Nelson’s health deteriorated from smiling, walking, eating and talking to bed-ridden and barely able to breathe. I don’t know if a tumor metastasized or if there was something else but he quickly lost the ability to communicate beyond muffled moans and murmurs to indicate mostly yes’s or no’s. I’ve spent much of the last 8 days visits sitting by his side… praying for miracles and praying for mercy.

Yesterday I walked in and found him much the same; lying on his side, holding his head with his hands as if he could push the pain out with his trembling fingers, and waiting for his miracle. Most of the time a person is admitted here they will wear their standard issue hospital clothes; light blue scrub top and bottoms. Nelson is no exception and up until yesterday he was wearing the same hospital clothes he nearly always wore. But this visit, I noticed, peeking out from the top of his blanket, a black, sweat-wicking collar above a butter smooth, tan-colored golf shirt.

Nelson had somehow found the strength that morning to put on his best shirt. At first I didn’t catch the significance. I smiled and remembered the way his eyes never left the black raven embroidered onto the breast as I handed it to him a few weeks ago.
Then I realized that Nelson was wearing his best shirt even in his desperate sickness. With a sigh, a deep pain and a deep longing for what Nelson had already realized, I sat down next to his bed and began to pray. Nelson’s miracle is coming soon. I held Nelson’s hand and prayed that God would smile with Nelson as he would soon be entering the throne room of grace wearing his best shirt and walking with a straight leg and back. Despite my failure to communicate with him about preparing to meet the Creator Who Smiles, he had taken it upon himself to look his best for that face-to-face meeting.

Nelson’s miracle is coming soon.

I’ll miss my friend.

July 11, 2012

Jon

Hospital Ministry, Mozambique

8 comments

Ordinary

A Layne Post

or·di·nar·y

adjective

1. of no special quality or interest; commonplace; unexceptional

2. plain or undistinguished

3. somewhat inferior or below average; mediocre.

4. customary; usual; normal

_______________________________________________________________

Ordinary Day

Today marks 2 weeks for our Jovie girl.

Yesterday we were all sitting on the couch, all four of us, and Jon wanted to catch a picture, a picture of ordinary life… well the new ordinary. You see, it seems like only yesterday Jon and I were adventurous young newly weds with a vision on our hearts and passion to fuel it. We took off traveling and searching for a home, a place to spend this God given passion within us. We found that home in Mozambique.

Now when we walk in the hospital we are greeted with happy smiles and familiar ‘Hellos’ by the staff and patients. Some hardly lift their heads from their crocheting and give a simple wave. Anaya is their little ‘Oncologista’ as she toddles around pointing at and naming the animals on the wall in the hallway. We’ve become regulars… ordinary.

When I roll out my tortillas or individually cut my chips to bake, when I make my own white sauce to substitute cream of chicken soup, when I measure in milliliters… it’s my ordinary.

It happens quick, this settling, this ordinary. Jovie has only been here two weeks, and yet my mornings and days have fallen into a rhythm. My mom came for three weeks, and she quickly slipped in. By the time she left she had become accustomed to making the coffee every morning for the three of us, she’d do afternoon dishes, take Anaya to play outside after lunch, she filled Anaya’s juice and milk cups at the end of every night, she’d make bubbles on Anaya’s feet in the bathtub. It became ordinary to have her around.

So I was thinking… I wonder, if this ordinary is so easy to slip into, if it happens so quickly, then what new life things would I like to become ordinary things? And what is the difference of forced adjustment and voluntary adjustment? Jovie is here for good, no options – we adjust. My mom came to visit – stuck in our house 3wks, no options – she adjusted. But then it comes to resolutions and goals and we just can’t seem to get in the groove.

Anyways, I don’t really have an answer, I just got to thinking. Thinking about the joy it is to have Jovie feel like one of us, an ordinary Heller. Thinking about how I miss my mom and hearing her door open in the morning, the lack of what became ordinary. Thinking about how I’d like to be more consistent about reading the Bible with my husband an about prayers with my daughters before bed… things I want to be ordinary.

Ordinary Day

June 29, 2012

Layne

Personal

4 comments

Then Comes Jovie Fé

Right Before We Left

A Jon Post

First comes discomfort,

8:00 AM hospital, waiting, waiting, 2 hours, doctor, nurse, smiles.

Words fail at the beauty of my wife

Then comes waiting,

Drive home, nothing, bouncing on a round rubber ball, hope, questions, memories, playing worship music, 3 more hours.

Breathtaking love displayed in my wife

Then comes ache,

Small pains, talking through them, worship together, looking at the clock, tears together, just one hour, back to the hospital

Fire and purity in my wife’s eyes

Pain

Then comes pain,

“Oh it hurts”

-My wife’s beauty, the glory of God’s creation, masked in pain, the sentence of Eve’s sin-

A smile, a tear, eyes shut like thunderstorms before the rain,

“Oh glory, oh pain… bring life, please bring life. Unchain my wife from her torment”

Then come groans,

First Seconds of Life

“Oh stop”

Helpless trust, breathless trust, desperate trust

“Oh Christ save, deliver, redeem!!!”

Then push

Then comes pain

Then push

Then comes pain

Then push

Jovie

Then comes pain

Then comes JOY

Then comes FAITH

Then comes my daughter

THEN COMES JOY

Family

THEN COMES FAITH

Then comes my daughter

…yeah… that’s her

My wife is glowing…

Welcome dear.

Welcome Jovie Fé

My Incredible Wife

…

Alive

…

June 17, 2012

Jon

Personal

9 comments

My Mom’s Arrival and Our Anniversary at the Fish Market

A Layne Post

My mom has arrived in Mozambique to help Jon and I ease into our soon-to-be family of four. Jovie’s arrival will likely happen this week, and life will change in all sorts of new and adventurous ways. Anaya has taken to her Gee quickly, and I fear we will have a bit of a hard time when she leaves! Anaya is old enough to notice the lack of her presence now. This is one of the difficulties, and probably the worst, we experience living overseas; family is so far!

: Gee time!

: Sweet memories

It has been a blessing taking my mom to the hospital with us this week and introducing her to patients. It is always such a fun thing for the patients to feel like they get a closer look into our lives, and what better way than meeting my mom! They like to assure her we are well taken care of over here, even if she already knows it. She is also a big help chasing Anaya around the yard, as it is becoming more and more difficult for me.

My mom babysat for us while Jon and I went out to celebrate our 4 year wedding anniversary, which is coming up on the 21st. It was a special and quite fun time together, as my Mom and Dad funded our outing to a local fish market for dinner. We’ve heard about it forever, but never made it a priority to go. I’ll describe the experience for you, as I think it was fun and unique, and perhaps you’ll enjoy reading about it.

4 years!

Upon arrival a waitress with her red apron met us at the car offering to cook the food we were about to pick out, and though many others would vie for our business along the way in a somewhat annoying manner, we decided to stick with the first. They all offer their individual price for preparation, though we had no clue what “prepare your food” meant. Spices? Butter? Boil? Grill? We could have asked, but what fun is that? The first waitress gave us a good price, according to the advice were were previously given, so we agreed and refused the many other insistent proposals.

We then entered the market area made up of dirt floors and a tin roof. There is a small area with wooden tables set up covered in all the variety of seafood you can imagine. Rows of different kinds and colors of fish, basins of shrimp (prawns), mussels, oysters, octopus, etc. The vendors proudly show you the inside of the gills, assuring you of the freshness of the fish, though Jon and I, not being connoisseurs, had no clue if they were telling us the truth . You pick out what you want, pay by the kilogram, and then they place your fresh seafood into black plastic grocery sacks, which, if you want prepared, you then give to the waitress of your choice. Otherwise, you are welcome to take it home and cook it for yourself. Jon and I chose a red fish and a 1/2 kilo of prawns to share.

From there you are led into a large square filled with plastic tables and chairs that are covered by cloth umbrellas. You can order drinks and decide on the sides of your choice; salad, rice, or french fries. The food is slow to be cooked, so in the meanwhile music blares from less than desirable speakers, men walk by selling their goods (paintings, bracelets, fabric, etc.), and children dance as they laugh, run, and play. Because it was the weekend, we had the treat of live music. The man played the guitar and harmonica and sang. He had his microphone placed between his chest and harmonica stand holding it just so as he sang with his head tilted down. It was an impressive sight!

When the food arrived, Jon and I were pleasantly surprised; it looked amazing! It turned out to be some of the best seafood we have had since living in Mozambique. And the company… well, my husband is amazing; I enjoyed every minute. I love him more than ever.

June 10, 2012

Layne

Mozambique, Personal

4 comments