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Encouraged

A Jon Post

As I was trying to decide what to write this week I started reading back over the last year and a half worth of blogs we’ve put up here. I read some of the hard times in our lives, times of death, of sickness, of pain, mixed with joyous moments in our lives, times of birth, of life, of smiles. In all of those times, in all of these “blogs”, in all of our crying out in triumph, defeat, life and death… you are there with us.

When we wrote of our tears, you cried with us. You encouraged us. You stirred us on to love and good deeds. You breathed words of life and comfort when we needed them.

When we wrote of our fun, you laughed with us. You told us of the great things the Lord has done for us.

In all of these times, of laughter, mourning, dancing, weeping, life, death, health, sickness, smiles, tears… you were… you are there with us.

Your encouragement means so much to us. Simple comments on simple blogs, mean something to us.

You are as much a part of this as we are. You are.

We love you guys.

 

Hosanna

A Layne Post

“Hoshana” (הושענא) is a Hebrew word meaning please save or save now.

“Hosanna” (Greek transcription: ὡσαννά, hōsanna) is the cry of praise or adoration shouted in recognition of the Messiahship of Jesus…

It seems that “Hosanna” is a cry for salvation; while at the same time is a declaration of praise.

They brought the donkey and the colt and placed their cloaks on them for Jesus to sit on. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!”

“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”

“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

Matthew 21:7-9

Today I sat in a hospital looking into the eyes of a lonely thirteen year old, whose face and neck are being taken over by cancerous tumors. I rubbed her back as she cried in pain, no parent to comfort her, not even one in the same country.

Hosanna. Please save.

I glanced over and made silly faces at a little girl whose mouth is being deformed by a tumor, her teeth literally moving. After she fell asleep she was startled awake with difficulty breathing.

Hosanna. Save now.

Jon played a game with a eleven year old boy as his chemo treatment ran, who laughs to escape thinking of the friend/mentor who died three weeks ago. A boy who has lived fifteen months alone, bravely enduring treatment.

Hosanna. Please save.

Today a sixteen year old boy being taken over by fear asked Jon, “Do you think I’ll die here (in the hospital)?”

Hosanna. Save now.

“Where, O death, is your victory?

Where, O death, is your sting?”

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

1 Corinthians 15:55-56

Hosanna. Lord we praise you.

Builder of Homes

A Jon Post

Jonathan

Jonathan

Jonathan was an incredible man. I met him in September last year when he arrived in the Oncology department at the hospital. He had left his home in Manica, Mozambique, a small town on the border of Mozambique and Zimbabwe 4 months earlier, with a small tumor over his right shoulder. He first went to a hospital nearer to his home thinking he would be there for the weekend and would return home soon. They kept him there for four months analyzing and waiting for test results for his tumor. By the time he arrived in Maputo, the tumor was the size of a grapefruit and growing. In the hospital here he waited 3 months for decisions from doctors and for them to make the time to biopsy his tumor. By December of last year he had received no treatment for his cancer and his tumor was nearly the size of a bowling ball. When he finally started receiving chemotherapy in early January he had 6 other tumors protruding from his arms, legs and one on his forehead. Despite the odds, his body responded remarkably well to his chemo. His tumors receded, and, after three months of treatment, his shoulder almost looked normal again.
Before he got sick he lived most of his life in Zimbabwe and was raising two young boys to be fine men. His wife loved him and counted herself lucky to be married to a man so committed to his family. He went to a technical school after finishing high school and learned to design and build houses. He traveled through much of northern Mozambique building houses for those who had none.
Later he pursued his education even further and became a professional certified dog security trainer. When I told him of my dog Gasher he asked me to bring him to the hospital, and offered endless free advice on how to teach him to be a good guard dog for my home and family.
His smile was infectious.
He loved my daughter deeply and was eager to have a picture taken with her in his arms. He wanted to take that picture home with him so he could remember his little niece and see her every day.
He deeply desired to know God more and would press me to bring my Bible and read it to him so he could hear the Word of God. I had many Portuguese Bibles but because he spent most of his life in Zimbabwe where English is spoken he could not read Portuguese. I rooted through my old books and found a Bible I had received many years ago and had inscribed my name in when I was only 13; Jonathan. He held that Bible in his hands like it was worth more than the treatment that seemed to be saving his life.
We read together often and prayed passionate prayers to our God together, beseeching Him for mercy, His hand in our lives and in the lives of our wives and our children.
Last Tuesday night he got sick.
It may have been Malaria, or a simple flu infection.
His body, wracked by multiple chemo treatments and many tumors, could not fight for long.
Thursday night he died.
I still cry as I think and write that.
He never did get to take that picture with Anaya.

 

In the tears that Layne and I have shed so freely over the past few days as we remember our dear friend we have been echoing a refrain from John 6:68. “Lord, to whom shall we go? You alone have the words of eternal life.” Even in the face of death and pain and suffering,… ”Lord, to whom shall we go?” In our tears, in our breathless prayers, in our memories… “Lord, to whom shall we go? You alone… You alone… You alone have the words of eternal life.”

This is not our home. Jonathan is there waiting for us with his smile.


Two Little Girls

A Layne Post

I remember the first day that two little girls came running down the driveway of the hospital. They were accompanied by the usual boys, who were excitedly shouting, “Tio Jon!” as they ran. Somehow in the beginning Jon and I became ‘Tio Jon’, yes, me included. It seems to have changed recently, however, when I met these little girls, we were still ‘Tio Jon’.

Their names were Rudu and Esperança. I had never met them before, but it didn’t matter; they each grabbed one of my hands as if we had been buddies for years. Their giggles would melt your heart. Just two little girls… two friends who liked to run and play.

Rudu

Rudu has a large tumor on her face, making one of her cheeks look large and puffy. She is a bit shy, seemingly self-conscious of her condition; however, she eats up attention as much as the others. She gives sweet hugs and loves to be in your lap. Her eyes are beautiful and smile when her tumor keeps her lips from doing so.

Esperança

Esperança was the exact opposite of Rudu. She was loud and unhindered in everything that she did. She was all smiles, even while missing her front teeth; it was precious. She would squeal and yell, even when it was terribly inappropriate. Her energy was contagious.

For a couple of weeks the girls joined me in some of my visits with the ladies. They would sit in my lap or hang on the side of me; they just needed some physical touch. At times the sick women would be bothered by Esperança, and I couldn’t blame them, though I was unable to keep myself from smiling when I looked at her toothless grin. She was easy to love.

Esperança died this last week. Even though she had cancer, she died of pneumonia. The lack of her presence will be felt immensely. As for Rudu, she may be the next to go, as she has taken a turn for the worse. Her tumor grows more each week. Her sweet smile is gone, and even Anaya cannot bring it. It breaks my heart. She can no longer eat solid foods because the tumor is crowding her mouth. It brings memories of José Manuel.

Please pray for Esperança’s family.

Please pray for Rudu.

Esperança is the one in my lap

 

Calm and Smiles

A Jon Post

Sorry this post is a couple days late. Honestly, there’s really no reason for it to be late except that I keep forgetting to get it up. Anyway, we go.

Lately it feels like we’ve been in a bit of a “calm before the storm”. Anaya, is getting on a schedule and her mother’s life has gotten a little easier. I’ve been trying to help as much as I can with her and doing my best to keep the house clean (Layne’s standards here are much higher than mine and so I’m attempting to rise up to meet them). I’ve also gotten back into a regular schedule at the hospital.

Looking towards the months ahead they seem a bit busier. Layne’s parents are coming next week Wednesday to visit us and Anaya (mostly the Anaya part). Soon after that my parents will do the same, and then we’ll be hosting a team of young men and women from TCF (our home church in AZ) in June.

I’m extremely excited to have all these people coming here to visit and would not choose any other way, but there is a level of stress that comes with that many visitors as well.

Even with these visitors looming, all seems to be well in our family. Anaya is a joy in our home, Layne is a super-mom, and me… well, I’m doin alright as a daddy I think.

Friends at the hospital still need our prayers, your prayers, and the love of our Father. Cancer and death are a constant there and there is a great need for more smiles. We bring our own and try to inspire a few when we get there.

Please remember to pray and smile with us. We can’t do it all alone.