A Layne Post

We thought they wouldn’t have to; they said there would be 6 more months of treatment instead of amputation. Our hopes rose. I stopped praying so hard, so consistently with Anaya. We rejoiced there would be no new trauma while we were out of the country, unable to help in any way. It seemed as though the Lord had chosen mercy. Perhaps this was the one for healing, the one we’d see. This 13 year old boy would potentially have years of soccer ahead of him.

But then the email arrived… the news. Amputated. So permanent. His leg is gone.

I laid in bed crying, for what would not be the last time. It still comes in waves. If only we could get there. Jon would play chess with him. Maybe I’d bake something special. Anaya would do something to bring about his smile. I’d hug his Mama, and beg to help, though there would be little to actually do.

They are fine without us. His Mama is strong and loving. Our dear friend Alice is helping, likely better than we could imagine for ourselves. They may not feel our absence as much as we feel theirs. I think that is a little miracle the Lord does in us; He puts His heart in us, His heart of longing.

The other night we sat around with Jon’s family worshiping the Lord by the fire. We sang about the relentless love of God that pursues us. I wondered if we could ever communicate that love to this boy, if ever he would know how deeply the Father desires and loves him. I wondered if he would struggle to forgive, or be able to understand a love from a Father who has allowed cancer to take all it has. He’s only 13.

Pray with me. Pray the Lord would be relentless in His love, relentless in His pursuit for this boy.

And physically, pray that the boy’s body would be strong and healthy to recover, something we rarely see.

A Layne Post

I remember like it was yesterday…

We loaded up our new Land Cruiser with all of our possessions, said ‘good-bye’ to Botswana, a land we new knew well and loved well, and headed into the unknown. We were moving to Mozambique. For how long, we did not know. We had a temporary guest house lined up in the capital city of Maputo and a contact for a missionary couple we met once over lunch while in Portugal, but other than that, only the Lord knew.

Right after buying 'The Bison'

I knew Maputo was a large city, at least in comparison to what we knew in Botswana, and I had heard rumors of high crime rates. I found myself afraid. Driving into the city didn’t calm my fears. In fact, when we got to what I thought was ‘downtown’, I settled in my mind we wouldn’t be here long, that I could not possibly like this place. The traffic was crazy, it was dirty, hectic, and not for me. I kept telling myself it was temporary, and we’d head to Angola soon enough, back to the village life.

Traffic jam that took hours to get out of

Shortly after arriving we were invited by Alice to join her at her hospital ministry for their Christmas party; she asked if Jon would play a few Christmas carols on the violin, which he was happy to do. We enjoyed ourselves so much, we continued our visits, pushing through the uneasiness with Portuguese. Soon the majority of our friends in Mozambique were patients at the hospital.

Jon with men at the hospital '09

Layne with Mommies at hospital '09

Suddenly, however, we were provided the opportunity to go to Angola, and feeling a peace from the Lord, we decided to go. With a few days notice, we packed up. We left some of our possessions with friends here in Mozambique, assuring our return, if only to get our things and say proper goodbyes.

All loaded up and ready to go

It was on our way to Angola that the Lord began exposing the passion that had grown inside of us for continuing in the ministry of visitation, especially to the sick and the lonely. During our time in Angola we sought opportunities, however, we quickly realized that Maputo (that hectic, dirty city I was determined to dislike) was uniquely set up the type of ministry we were doing. A couple months later we found ourselves trekking back across the continent, but this time a little more sure of our future.

Our Home

Over the next year and a half we rented a house, made it a home, bought a dog, got pregnant, had Anaya, rented another house, made that one a home… we have made countless friends around the city, found all of our favorite little ‘spots’, visited nearby beaches, gotten used to police stops, learned to drive as aggressively, if not more so, than the other crazy city drivers… we have made some of the dearest friends at the hospital, loved them deeply, and lost too many… we’ve praised the Lord with shouts, wept bitterly, sang deeply, questioned endlessly, prayed earnestly, and we have found Him good.

And now, well, I cannot imagine living anywhere else. Maputo, my home.