A Jon Post

I spent the afternoon with a little boy in my lap, talking, laughing, holding… while poison dripped into his veins. He started day 1 of 5 of chemotherapy today. Little Tomé and his brave little smile.
Every time I come to the hospital Tomé comes running. He’s 10 years old and has lived at the hospital for 6 months now.
Alone.
His father dropped him off at the hospital 6 months ago with incredible pain in his stomach. He later had a cancerous tumor removed from his abdomen and has been doing 5 day chemo treatments on three week intervals ever since.
Alone.
He hasn’t seen his father or mother the entire time.
This post was actually supposed to be about the riots and civil unrest in the city of Maputo over the past week. Layne and I ended up stuck in our house while we waited for the violence that swept through the city to calm down. We weren’t able to go visit our friends at the hospital or even see if they were okay there. The hospital is right in the middle of city and was surrounded by rioters.
I was going to go on and on about the country of Mozambique and what would incite people to burn cars in the streets and bring the city to a stand-still.
But today I spent the afternoon with a little boy in my lap. A little boy usually a bundle of energy and looking for someone to hold him, someone to whom he can belong, someone to call him… mine. Usually Layne and I are called “Tio Jon and Tia Elayna”. Uncle Jon and Aunt Layne. But today, while little Tomé sat in my lap, a woman walked by, saw us, smiled and said “Tomé has been asking for his daddy. I’m glad you came. Tomé has been asking for you.”
I don’t think I’ve earned such a reverent title in Tomé’s life. I think he’s just desperate for someone to whom he can belong. And I’m glad he feels safe enough with me for that to be true of Layne and me.
This is the vision. This is it. We just want to do it in our own home. We want to look after the orphan in his distress. We want to visit the sick. We see Jesus there. Sitting in a hospital bed, arm swollen from countless IV chemo treatments, a piece of gauze taped over a painful sore, with a broad smile on His face.

Thanks friends and family and supporters. Tomé has a family because you keep us here. His broad smile is worth our time.

Thanks.

A Picture of Tomé on my Camera Phone

My wife

A Jon Post

I wish you could see my wife here.
I wish you could all see this incredible missionary you support as she goes.
I wish you could see how she smiles and laughs with a little child who has only months to live, how she leans in and kisses the cheek of a woman covered in sores and smelling of death, how she kneels and communes with a lonely grandmother who has lost whatever shred of hope she had long ago.
I wish you could see… the tears… the tears she cries… and I wish you could hear the compassion in her voice, as she hugs a woman who waits… on the verge of eternity. I wish you could see with me the wordless love passing from Layne’s arms into a dying soul… into God’s beloved child.
I know there are so many of you who are inspired and who seem to like what Layne and I do here. But I’m telling you… I’m telling you…
…if you could only see what I see.

Layne inspires me so much.

She holds fast to the hope she professes… because He who promised… is faithful. He’s so faithful. (Hebrews 10:23).

She holds fast…

Some times it seems like we’re losing this fight, like the grave swallows so dreadfully fast…

But she holds fast.

I wish you could see what I see. This incredibly beautiful woman… finding Christ in the sick and the dying of Maputo Central Hospital.

What a woman.

Many women do noble things… but Layne Heller… she surpasses them all.