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Category: Personal

Would you Pray?

A Layne Post

Hey guys, can you do something for me? Can you pray for Jon this week?

Since coming to Mozambique, Jon has developed eczema on his hands. When we were home on furlough it cleared up, but upon our return it is back, spreading, and worsening. Last night he had a hard time sleeping from the outbreak on his hands. It flares up, calms, and round and round.

Awhile back Jon saw a dermatologist here and got a steroid cream, however, those aren’t good to use for extended or frequent periods of time. We’ve read lots of information, tried a few creams, and observed dietary things. Our rockstar moms have mailed some ointments/lotions. We are still waiting on a few and will try them when they arrive. It sounds like you just have to find what works for you. Well, could you be praying we find what works for Jon? Better still, that he would healed.

Thanks so much for your love and support. Jon and I sat in our living room this morning talking about you, how we miss you and feel a little disconnected from you, our supporters. I’m not sure if you all are feeling the same way. Let us know if there is anything you’d like to hear about or see through photos and we’ll see what we can hook you up with.

A video house tour is coming soon. I can’t believe we never let you tour our new house through video, and now we’ve been here more than a year! (Honestly, I hadn’t finished my curtains and was embarrassed, but they are done now and have been for awhile.)

Love from Mozambique!

2 of the sweetest girls on earth!

My growing girls!

 

 

 

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

Then Comes Jovie Fé

Right Before We Left

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

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

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

Jovie

Then comes pain

Then comes pain

Then comes pain

Then comes JOY

Then comes FAITH

Then comes my daughter

 

THEN COMES JOY

Family

Family

THEN COMES FAITH

Then comes my daughter

 

…yeah… that’s her

 

My wife is glowing…

 

Welcome dear.

Welcome Jovie Fé

 

 

My Incredible Wife

My Incredible Wife

 

Alive

Alive

 

 

 

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.

My Brother

A Jon Post

For those of you who didn’t know, I traveled to the USA about 2 weeks ago to be a part of my brother’s wedding. Paul, the youngest of my siblings, got married to an incredible woman. As part of his ceremony I, along with my brothers and Paul’s best friend, addressed his bride about the man she was marrying. I wanted to take this blog and share what I said to Paul’s wife and try to honor him. Paul has made an incredible difference in my life, encouraging me, strengthening me, and pushing me towards Christ. Here’s what I shared with his beautiful bride last Saturday.

 

Becky,

Some men strive for great things.
Some men of us love wildly, drink deeply, run hard and live life well.
Some men grow old and wise, living in the broken and the whole.
Some men walk feebly, risk little and live long. 

Paul is none of these men.

Some men laugh often, battle fiercely, love their wives with clear eyes and live to be remembered.
These men we look to, marvel at and extol them for their strength of will and arm, their heart of fire and purity, and we remember them well. 

These we call Great Men. 
Paul is none of these. 

For there are yet some…
Some very few…
These hold another title altogether…
These names we men whisper in dark places to find our courage. We read these names in reverent and solemn tones, hushed so as not to tarnish their legacy. 

These are the “Mighty Men”.
These are the Heroes.
These of those of whom the world is not worthy

The man standing before you today…
Here is one of those. 

Here is Josheb-Basshebeth, spear in hand, smiling at the approaching 800 enemies.
Here is Eleazar, taunting thousands as his allies retreat, sword frozen in his hand.
Here is Shammah, standing his ground in a field of lentils, roaring to announce his solitary advance against thousands.
Here is Benaiah, laughing at the bad weather, following a lion into an icy pit.
Here is Samson, bone in his closed fist, bringing death at blinding speeds to his enemies.
Here is Jim Elliot, giving what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.
Here is Horatio Spafford, writing that it is well with his soul as the waves of suffering threaten to crush.
Here is Keith Green, singing and shouting truth to a generation mired and drowning in its own selfishness and greed. 

Here is Paul Heller…

Here is one of our Mighty Men.
Here is one of our Heroes. 

You tread a path few women are blessed have to known.

 We mere men could not be more proud to be at his side today.

I… his brother…
I am proud to be known as the brother of the hero…
I love this man.

I know you do.

Paul Heller…
Your Mighty Man
The Hero of your heart.

Love him well my lady
Love him well.