A Layne Post

Marta. Something about her has captured me.

Sweet Marta is twenty-two years old. The first time I met her she looked absolutely terrified to be there in the Dermatology ward. After chatting a bit, I realized she just needed to be distracted. By the end of our conversation I had even gotten a few smiles and laughs.

Her family lives quite far from Maputo, only an Aunt is in town, but she didn’t have her phone number. She did, however, know where she worked. Now, I don’t know the city well, and probably would never be able to find “somewhere someone works”, but the Lord had something else in mind. When Marta told me the school her Aunt worked at, I realized it was literally 2 streets away from my house! I jotted down her name, and while I couldn’t promise she’d visit, I could promise an effort in finding her. My mother-in-love, Vicki, was here at the time, and we went and found her the next day. We informed her of Marta’s situation and that was that.

Now, weeks and weeks later, she has only visited once. I quit asking, as it always came with a face of disappointment. Maybe it wasn’t so much about the Aunt coming, maybe it was more about Marta knowing I cared enough to track this lady down for her, even though we’d only met once. I may not be able to promise visits from her Aunt,  but I can promise my own.

Still my visits usually found Marta with watery eyes, full of fear and loneliness. I would encourage her as best I could and give as many kisses to her forehead as seemed appropriate during my visit. Even a short term team I hosted commented on her discouragement.

One week Marta was looking particularly bad; I was actually worried for her life. I noticed her long nails, and the Lord reminded me of the clippers I saw on the side table of my other friend across the hall. I borrowed them quickly and clipped her nails for her. It was a simple act, but she seemed appreciative. I asked her if she liked painting her nails, and the answer was, of course, “Yes!” That was something I could do easily and cheaply! I promised a day of painting nails sometime soon.

That day on the way out she asked for a sweater; she was topless under a blanket, and it is winter here. My partner Alice has some donated clothes and sweetly volunteered to take one by to her. A week later when I visited, she seemed to have taken a turn for the better. She proudly donned her new sweater and assured me she stays warm. Her face was clean, and her skin moist, a big improvement from the week before.

Another day I brought chocolate chip cookies for a friend’s family, who had given me some veggies from their garden, and I thought it was a perfect opportunity to bless Marta as well. I threw 5 cookies into a little container and dropped them by her room. On my way out, she was already eating them, and with a big grin assured me how much she liked them.

The day came for painting nails. I picked out a very bright cheerful pink. While Marta was my goal, I ended up painting 5 other pairs of hands as well. How special to see the way the women lit up from such a simple treat. Here among the holes in the floor and the rats, we had a salon day. I smile, even now, just thinking about it. But Marta… Marta had the sweetest face as she admired her pink nails with butterfly decals (Thanks Lynne Hartke!).

Now when I get to Marta’s room I am greeted by a big smile.

Sometimes it is the simple things, things I feel only come with relationship…

When a visitor turns into a friend.

A Jon Post

Like a Son

“Uncle Jon” came the small voice over the phone, “Tomorrow I’m leaving to go home!”

Immediately joy, excitement, fear for his safety, and heart-dropping-sadness all warred for my emotions. Little Tomé, after two years of living alone in the hospital, was going home.

He finished his final chemo treatment early last month, waited a week for a CT scan, another week for an ultrasound, another week for a blood test, and was finally given his discharge last week. He left for home at 2 AM Friday morning.

Earlier this week when he told me he was so close to going home, I went out and bought him a pre-pay cell phone and loaded it with credit.

“Keep this phone with you and if you need anything or just want to talk, you call me and Uncle Jon will be there for you.” I told him.

We’ve spoken about 3 or 4 times every day since he left.

Sitting on the bus, eating dinner, arriving at a town about halfway home, waiting for the next bus… he calls and we talk. He has never owned a phone before so he is comically unaware of phone etiquette but his smile is obvious when he speaks and his laugh infectious. “How is Aunt Layne? How is Anaya? What did you eat for dinner? How is everyone at the hospital? Is your dog there? Where are you? Do you like buses?” and on and on it goes and we laugh together while I hold in the tears long enough to get off the phone and miss this little boy who became like a son to me.

And even though this work brings so much pain, it brings more joy. So we’ll keep doing it.

Please pray that Tomé stays healthy, that his cancer stays in remission and that we see him again.

Thanks.