Children’s Relief International

I woke up this morning wishing I could celebrate the fourth of July back in the good ole U.S.A.  In our area of Wyoming, we don't leave out any traditional form of celebration for the fourth.  Rodeos, the largest parade in the state, barbeques, and a great display of fireworks shared with a multitude of family and friends.  It was a first for us to celebrate the fourth of July in Mozambique and not our usual traditions but it turned out to be a great day. We commemorated it with friends in Project Life thanks to a generous church in Brazil.  

The Project Life workers (activistas) and some American team members put together small sacks of beans, corn meal, sugar and oil for the families we minister to in PL.  We worked, sang, danced, and worked a little bit more getting ready for our guests.  When they arrived Noemia animated a story in Portuguese followed by Carlos interpreting in Sena. We gave each one some Fanta soda and their bags of food.  For them to receive this food is such a benefit.  They rarely have protein in their diet. They might eat beans three times a month or fish three times a year but often their diet is controlled by the produce of the season - rice or sweet potatoes.  It is not unusual to visit with families who have consistently eaten a diet of sweet potatoes for an entire month.  This source of malnutrition makes it difficult to fight off disease, especially when you have AIDS.  

After the party a few of us went to visit our friend Helena who has been in the hospital since February and unable to attend the party.  She had been transferred to Beira to a much larger hospital.  We discovered once we arrived at the hospital that all their patients were not in a computer but were hand written out in books....books...and more books.  The method of finding a patient is simply to go through each room on each floor until you locate the one you came to visit.  So....the five us explored each room on the first floor and in both wings.  No Helena.  We went to the second floor with the same result.  We even passed by a person who had died and was covered up on their bed. Thankfully it wasn't Helena.  We went on to the third floor.  We were beginning to lose faith that she was even in the hospital!  A trip through both wings and each room found us once again without Helena.  Finally, on the fourth floor in the second wing in the last room we discovered her.  She was very surprised to see us as we were to see her!  It was a great visit.  Several people are always in one room and this was no exception.  The one woman who lay in the bed next to Helena was obviously in the last stages of AIDS.  She was so ill she could only blink her eyes and listen quietly as we talked.  Marilene shared the gospel with everyone in the room.  I silently prayed that this woman would listen and accept in her last hours a decision that would affect her eternity.  We stayed for a few more moments and then left for Dondo because it was dark.

Back in Dondo we were able to celebrate with American team members, CRI staff, Melody Pieratt, Jason and Lindy Pieratt, and a few CRI summer interns.Val displayed her Betty Crocker skills by presenting us with a cake in the form of an American flag. I am thankful for our country. May we never forget that the blessing of our independence came because of our founding dependence on God.  

In your quiet moments....do you ever think about the pain we impose on God? Contemplating that thought feels like prying open Pandora's box and it causes me to cringe. More importantly, what is God's response to all the pain not only inflicted on Him but on ourselves... and each other?

Today we were asked to help with the funeral of Manuel's cousin who died suddenly of asthma.  The funeral was in Beira, a larger population than Dondo.  We went to the morgue to wait for the body. What we saw was surreal.  There were hundreds of people waiting to take their loved ones to the cemetery.  We were just one of several pickups waiting in line. Since we could do nothing but wait, we watched the different groups of mourners pass by. There was no doubt who the family members of the deceased were in each group because the pain in their eyes narrated the devastating pain in their heart.  

After two hours we were finally able to proceed to the cemetery.  While our funeral progressed, there was a funeral going on to the left of us and a funeral going on to the right.  I wanted to hide myself from this mass production of graves over the expanse of the cemetery because it was too much information for my mind to comprehend.  How does one come to terms with such an outrageous scene? Is this the ultimate retaliation for all of us and God has the last laugh?

That couldn't be further from the truth.  It is because of His love for us He allows us to experience this terrible pain of separation.  Without this discernment, how can we comprehend the pain of separation from Him for eternity?  In the midst of all this insanity of death, there is no revenge in His heart. Instead, He is endlessly calling out to each one of us.  Are we listening?

He was born in an unusual place.  His mama has walked many miles ministering in Project Life so perhaps it wasn't  at all unusual he would be born on the dirt road.  Aida was trying to walk to the hospital as she knew the birth was imminent but her little son just couldn't wait.  All alone on the road she welcomed her newborn into the world.  We are thankful this method of arrival didn't prevent a safe delivery.  Most of us including Pastor Domingos were not in Dondo at the time but John Pieper came to the rescue and drove mother and son to the hospital.

When I was able to visit Pastor Domingos and Aida, they gave me the unbelievable privilege of naming their son. Since he was born in an unusual way, it seemed natural to give him the name Jonathan. Not because he has a brother named David (although that seemed fitting), but because Jonathan in the Bible was an unusual man and his story is powerful.   He did not fit the profile of the rich son of a king. He was courageous, humble, loyal and full of faith.  He was the kind of man that did not need the spotlight.  With his armor-bearer, he challenged an entire army and won,  took the heat for David from his own father, and accepted that his rightful place on the throne would be given to his friend David.  What a great role model.

Today we brought Jonathan out of his home and dedicated him to the Lord.  Many women and even some men came to celebrate!  Aida is known for her energetic dancing at baby dedications but since Jonathan is only a few days old, she sat quietly and watched the other women joyfully dance and sing.  Well, almost quietly.  It was just too much for her to sit still.  After the message she got up and danced much to the delight of everyone.  After all, she had much to celebrate!

This is a short footnote to the story of José, and his mother and grandmother who are witch doctors.  We have gone twice since the funeral to their home to pray and share how great God's love is for them. The grandmother was careful to listen while the daughter kept her eyes constantly shifting all around - but not at us.  We directly asked if they wanted to receive Christ into their hearts and lives.  The grandmother started to nod her head but the daughter quickly shot her a pensive glance.  She spoke up that she could not do it because there were evil spirits present.  We told her that God is greater than any evil spirit. We could see the great sadness that permeated her eyes and heart as the daughter responded that she was given to the evil spirits long ago.   To give up witch craft is a tremendous spiritual battle.  It is their means to financially survive.  We invited them to come to the Mafarinha church plant if they wanted to find the same Hope that their son José, had found. The grandmother immediately spoke up that they would come.  Please pray with us for Domingas and Joaquina as they struggle to walk from darkness into the Light.

Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope.  I Thessalonians 4:13

Whether you are Catholic, Baptist or a follower of the traditional medicine of the witch doctor, you will sooner or later bury a loved one here in Dondo.  José, a young man from the Mafarinha church plant passed away two nights ago and we were asked to oversee the funeral. Not an unusual request, but the  mother and grandmother are witch doctors.  Initially, I was a bit hesitant wondering how we would approach such a diverse ceremony. How would the mother and grandmother react to our presence?  More importantly, how challenging had it been for this young man to live out his Christianity?

This morning we approached the tiny house where his mother and a few women crowded next to Jose's still body. Outside, many people sat on mats or low stools; it was unusual not to know any of them. As customary, we remained outside to wait for the body to be washed and placed in a wooden casket.  Songs of mourning began to flow from inside. Not recognizing any of the songs from previous funerals, I asked Simone to translate.  He commented sadly that they were mantras of mourning and they offered no hope.  Suddenly, the air was filled with a piercing cry from inside the house that startled all of us.  The mother was in anguish and kept repeating that she had lost her only son. A unison of wailing continued until the grandfather finally interrupted in order to place the body in the casket.  I couldn't remember any other funeral where we had sensed this much hopelessness. Normally, the family remains by the body while we enter the house and pray.  This time, everyone by choice left quickly before Simone, Fatima and I entered. The progression of this service began to take a toll on my emotions as the door closed behind us.  Then my eyes caught something on the casket.  Carefully tacked over the top was a large and lacy white cross. Yes!  This ray of sunshine came unswerving through the clouds and caused me to bask in the Truth for a moment.  José was not here.

After the prayer, Fatima broke the silence singing songs of Christian hope. A few women followed her lead as we began the walk to the cemetery. At the burial site the mourners were very attentive as we took the opportunity to present what God's only Son had done for José.  After Jose was laid to rest we returned to the house for a last word of encouragement and a chance for friends and neighbors to give an offering to help the family with expenses. Funerals are officially over when friends and family shake the hands of the mourners to comfort and acknowledge their loss.  As I took hold of the hand of Jose's mother, I didn't see the eyes of a witch doctor.  I saw the grief of a mother who had lost her only son.  I was mystified as to why she had allowed us to give José a Christian burial.  I am praying that the Son is slowly breaking through to her.

What is a Witch Doctor?

When I arrived in Mozambique, I had no idea what it meant to be a witch doctor.  I knew it was steeped in tradition and the belief of many Mozambicans but I had no idea what intrinsic values had tightly captured their hearts. Consequently, I asked some of my friends what they knew.

Witch doctors are lauded for their ability to solve both physical and spiritual problems in the lives of their followers.  It is believed that they can usher in the rain or bring fortune or misfortune to anyone they deem deserving. Accordingly, part of their power is their ability to instill fear. What they are most known for, is their claim to be a mediator between the living and the dead.

Mozambicans maintain that if they live well they will join their ancestors when they die. The role for the ancestor is to protect their families. Families are important so polygamy is not considered immoral but considered a great blessing. Ancestors also advise the living; hence the need for the witch doctor.  He will for a price summon the dead.

Surprisingly, witch doctors are recognized by the government as a legitimate institution for healing giving them the right to dispense medicine.  The consequence of this can be deadly.

Mozambicans have a difficult time of letting go of their belief and fear of the witch doctor.  Even after they accept Christ it can be difficult for them to keep one foot out of witchcraft while one foot is in the church.

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Ephesians 6: 10-13

In our small town in Wyoming, I rarely see an armed soldier walking around town. Since we have come to Africa, to encounter an armed soldier is rather routine.  We even have armed guards (who are really quite friendly and at times even salute us!) in the Lusalite compound where we live.  Two nights ago we were greeted by our guards standing outside our door.  They had stopped to tell us to close our curtains in our back room! Yikes!...what watchful eyes. The Bible talks about being an armed soldier for God and today Fatima's story of her life captured that visual for me.

Fatima was young when she presented her husband with their first son. Her family quickly insisted that their firstborn have the traditional witch doctor necklaces tied around his waist and wrist.  Although she wasn't a Christian at the time, she had a nagging feeling that she had made the wrong choice to follow their advice.  Not at peace with her decision, she bravely cut off the necklaces much to the grief of her extended family. By the time her second son was born, Fatima had accepted Christ and knew definitely she should have nothing to do with any witch doctor. She didn't allow her relatives to pressure her this time. They went to her husband who was not a Christian and complained about her bad choices and what the consequences would be for her actions.  He defended his wife because he was beginning to respect her strong faith in God.  The third child that Fatima bore was a girl. When she was 2 1/2 the first son became so ill with malaria he developed seizures.  Fatima prayed for him and placed him in the hospital.  Her family told her that her oldest son would die if he wasn't treated by the witch doctor. They were very angry with Fatima. Had it not been for the hospital staff's intervention, the family would have succeeded in sneaking him out of the hospital without Fatima's permission.  But in spite of all of Fatima's efforts, the oldest son passed away during the night.  

I asked Fatima what her reaction had been to lose her oldest son after all the effort to remain strong against the witch doctor.  I listened closely because I knew just a year ago she had lost her husband in an accident while he was trying to save their youngest son. Without hesitation, she admitted the sadness of losing her loved ones is always in her heart but she quickly added that her faith has never wavered.  She firmly repeated it and articulated that Satan is the destroyer, not God. She held no anger against Him.  I looked closely at this young woman imagining I could see a flicker of her shining armor - a bit battle-scarred, but still standing.

Yes, there are armed soldiers in Africa.  Maybe some of them aren't so commonplace.

"There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores and longing to eat what fell from the rich man's table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores. 

The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham's side. The rich man also died and was buried. In hell, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. So he called to him, 'Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.' 

"But Abraham replied, 'Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.' 

"He answered, 'Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my father's house, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.' 

"Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.' 

" 'No, father Abraham,' he said, 'but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.' 

"He said to him, 'If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.' "

Dear Anita,

Today we laid your body to rest among thousands of graves in Dondo and millions of other graves in Africa. I just saw you at the hospital where you confided in me that you wanted fruit and biscuits. It brought me great joy to bring it to you because it is gratifying to help friends.  But, dear friend, can I now confide in you?

As I was listening today to the African harmony that surrounded your burial, our two lives projected in my mind like a double-feature matinee. The scenes in my life were good: a warm bottle, a cozy bed, and a safe house to live in - two parents, three siblings, and a college education - a loving husband, six children and even grandchildren. Would you call that luxury?  More importantly, my parents taught me the Truth about eternal life.  All of this was a flawless script for a wonderful life. But having it all....did it leave room for you?

There was no subliminal message on my screen.  I knew you were there. Our modern technology brought you right into my home. Like any unpleasant movie, I could turn you off, turn you down or flip the channel. You were so easy to ignore.  But the Truth wouldn't let either one of us go. He knew your world was rooted in witchcraft propagating a hunger that wouldn't be stilled.  He saw the disease and poverty that robbed you of your husband and children.  He could see the AIDS slowly ebbing your life away.  And He saw my indifference robbing me of joy.

I am so glad that God doesn't leave us in our poverty.  You came to know Him as your Lord and Savior and He taught me to love others as the Bible commands.  You are now richly rewarded just to be in His presence and I have a deep joy as I walk Project Life. 

This morning I accompanied Adelina and Fatima (a different Fatima from previous blogs), to visit the families they are responsible for in Project Life.  One of the best benefits of walking rather than driving is that we have plenty of time to chat and connect not only with each other but the hundreds of Mozambicans that are walking in a hundred different directions.  I can't help as each person passes by to wonder what the story of their life would be if we could go further than the usual greeting of "Bom dia."  I determined that today I would get to know Fatima and Adeline better as we walked the road.

Our first stop for the morning we met with a man who has AIDS.  He and his wife have four small children who survive on a small garden of sweet potatoes and rice. He didn't complain of his circumstances or the lack of variety in his diet.  He mentioned about a month ago he had become deaf in one ear.  It seemed odd that we should have to advise him to see a doctor but poverty brings no expectations.  After praying and encouraging him in God's Word, we left for the next visit.

We visited Little Gilda and her mother Romana a small distance away.  I had held Gilda last year and prayed for her at her baby dedication. I thought she was the most beautiful Mozambican baby I had ever seen. Today she looked happy to see me but had thinned out considerably. Many mothers do not have the availability of formula to prevent passing on AIDS to their nursing babies. My heart was sad for her as I kissed her little forehead and handed her back to Romana. Romana's husband couldn't walk in February but today he was up and happy to see us too. They admitted that they had nothing to eat so we made a note to bring rice, beans, oil and cornmeal.  Again we encouraged them in God's Word, prayed and went on to the next house.

The woman we had come to visit was not at home but we could hear a quiet moaning in the next mud hut.  We called the owner of the voice to come out and waited for someone to appear.  A few moments later an emaciated woman crawled slowly out of her door.  It always hurts my heart to see the skeletal frame of someone who is dying of AIDS.  We discovered it was the mother of the woman we had come to see.  As Adelina and I ministered to her, Fatima took tree branches and quietly swept her entire yard of the debris that had accumulated from neglect.  Fatima and Adelina promised to return the next day.

As we continued on the path a single mother with two children greeted us in her yard.  Having never met before, I asked her if she knew who Jesus was.  She said she knew who He was but she had never see him! What a great opportunity to explain about the One who is the image of the invisible God.  As the neighborhood children sat down beside her we talked about the hope of eternal life.  They all quietly prayed with us and Adelina invited this single mom to a Bible study at her house. The morning was gone so it was time for me to leave with Fatima and Adelina so I could hear their stories and see their homes.

I learned that Adelina has three children and lives with her husband in a small mud hut.  Her husband had started to build his family a cement block house five years ago but he had become sick and lost his job.  He has looked unsuccessfully for a job over the last five years and his unfinished house stands as a monument to the economic depression that reigns in Mozambique. 

Fatima also lives in a mud house with her two children.  I noticed that her yard had no room for a garden and her roof and home needed repair. Like many others, she walks for miles to get to a garden she can only tend to on Saturdays.  Her husband left her when his mother decided she thought Fatima was too old for him.  What is shocking is that Fatima is not only very young but  she is absolutely beautiful. Sadly, it is tradition for the extended family to have that kind of power in a Mozambican marriage.  If only her mother-in-law had the eyes to see the inner beauty of this daughter-in-law who gives so much to so many each day she walks Project Life.  Thankfully, God's eyes don't miss a thing as He calls many like Fatima and Adelina to compassionately serve the poor.

Mozambicans are just like me - individually blessed with their own personality, likes and dislikes, talent and skill, quirks and faults.  But they ALL seem to be blessed with the ability to dance and sing.  It is just an innate gift that God has poured out on them and they dance like no one else on earth. AND...to dance in Dondo is as much a social duty as drinking coffee is to Americans. They have tried to teach me to dance their African beat but my right foot waltzes in the wrong direction while my left foot follows suit.  They are very exonerating of my inept ability and continue to include me in whatever dance the occasion demands.

Last Sunday we danced at two baby dedications. If you haven't read about these dedications, then you don't realize the immense joy that such an occasion brings.  It is customary for the witch doctor to bring the new baby out of their home during the first week of life and dedicate the baby to an evil spirit.  As Christians, we bring the baby out after praying a dedication blessing and encourage family and friends in the Word of God.  Then the singing and dancing begins.  It is delightfully boisterous with the women demonstrating their dancing abilities.  One woman named Aida is exceptionally lively even at nine months pregnant. It is more than steps to these women.  Each dance has a message.

Yesterday, the message in their dance touched my heart.  Each Friday the 12 Project Life workers meet to report on their week and pray together.  At the beginning of the meeting they were given disheartening news that might affect the security of their jobs.  In a country where unemployment is 80%, it was difficult news to hear.  I wondered what they were thinking as I have come to love each one of them.  I know that keeping food on their table is an every day challenge so the possibility of not having a job in Mozambique is distressing. It became very quiet in the room.  Then out of the silence one worker spoke up.  He praised God for all that he had learned as a worker in Project Life and how he had grown spiritually.  Another spoke up and expressed how they had actively learned to care for the needs of others.  One woman explained just this week she had invited a family she sees in Project Life who had nothing to eat to come to her small home and share her food.  One by one, they all praised God for the job He had given them and what it had meant to them.  Together they agreed to trust God for their future and the future of Project Life.  Then....believe it or not....they got up and danced. It wasn't quiet either.  They sang loud and clear and danced with all their hearts.  The steps were of thankfulness and faith. 

As I thought about their dance later that morning....I couldn't help but imagine the dancing that will go on when we all are reunited in heaven. I for one, might be able to dance like the Africans!  The Africans, on the other hand, will leave their life of suffering and dance like no one else in heaven.  Amen!

(Project Life is in need of financial support.  This program pays 12 workers a small salary to oversee the needs of over 100 families who are suffering from AIDS.  Often these families consist of a widow with small children and she usually is too ill to work.  We provide food, medicine, trips to the clinic and hospital, help with funerals, repair of roofs and huts and most importantly - prayer and spiritual guidance. The workers on their own have started several Bible Studies in PL to help disciple the new Christians.  Right now this entire program exists on donations. Would you consider giving a gift to help support this amazing ministry?  You can send a check to Children's Relief International and mark it "Project Life."  Thank you so much for whatever you can give.)  

Jesus called his disciples to him and said, "I have compassion for these people; they have already been with me three days and have nothing to eat. I do not want to send them away hungry, or they may collapse on the way." Matthew 15: 32

If one of you says to him, "Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed," but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? James 2: 16

I once asked Manuel (since he had the privilege of visiting the U.S. last year) what his impressions were of the United States.  He commented that in Mozambique, his people will eat once...maybe twice a day if they are really blessed but in America...we eat all day long!

At first I laughed because I had never thought of it that way.  Now after living some months in Mozambique, his comment is the reality I see. While visiting our families in Project Life I ask, "Do you have anything to eat?"  They shake their head "no" or answer that they have three kilos of rice or a half a bag of maize.   I have walked in their small houses and have seen that they are telling the truth.

This morning I visited my friend Louisa and her son Diago.  This is the season for harvesting rice so I asked her if she was ready for harvest. She explained that she had tried to grow rice but none of it produced.  I wasn't too surprised because Jeronimo had explained earlier that the weather had kept it from being a good year for the rice.

The next family we visited had a different story.  Their rice had produced but their entire crop had been stolen out of their field.  How disheartening would it be to walk round-trip 6 hours to your field each day to plant the rice and then have nothing to eat when it is time to harvest?

I know that man does not live on rice alone.  People need so much more to have a balanced diet and be healthy.  It is my hope for these people, and my prayers that God will provide for them...through you, through me, and with the same compassion as Jesus, the Bread of Life.

As the song goes, "I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more" just to experience today all over again.  I LOVE what we do in Project Life. 

The day started out with a chance meeting with the blind man Jose.  We had helped Jose and his blind wife complete their cement block house in February.  He was as delighted to see us (as much as a blind person can!) as we were to see him.  He told us his family was well and expressed his appreciation for the audio Bible we had given him. He explained his amazement at all the good deeds Jesus had done while on earth and I saw his eyes glisten with tears.  What a blessing it was to see his joy. We were thankful for God's provision for him and went on to visit Maculada.

The Green Door had built a cement block house for Maculada and her five children in February.  She was anxious to tell us something when we arrived.  Several times robbers had tried to get into her new home. As a widow, it had frightened her deeply.  The Green Door house was built to protect her with grates in the windows and locks on the doors.  It was a relief to hear it had given Maculada protection and she and her children were well. We were thankful again for God's provision.

We visited several other families in Macharote.  We debated whether we could make our last visit because of the time constraints.  I am so thankful we went on.  An older couple in Project Life met us just as they were returning to their hut.  We sat down outside in our usual manner, discussed their needs and shared a passage from the Bible.  But rather than closing in prayer, we felt pushed to probe and boldly asked what they thought defined a Christian.  They admitted they weren't sure, but thought it was someone who faithfully attends church.  What a great opportunity God gave us as we went on to share the truth about Christianity.  The gift of reconciliation came with a price tag too high for even the rich to afford!  This humble couple accepted God's great plan of salvation for them and we stopped to thank God for His greatest provision of all.

Today was my first day to begin walking with my friends in Project Life. What a great day. It seems an irony in my mind to be among the sickest and poorest people of the earth and feel such joy in my heart!  I love to walk with my Mozambican brothers and sisters in Christ as they light the way on this challenging road.  They are so unbelievably humble and faithful and don't have any idea how much they teach me.  Mother Teresa often said that she saw Jesus in the people she served.  If that is true, then that would explain why I feel I am receiving so much more than I can ever give to the sick and poor that we minister to each day.

But as much as there is joy, the harshness of the sickness and poverty is always before me.  My dear sweet friend, Maria Vasco quietly left this earth a couple of days ago.  Helena still lies in the hospital, a wisp of a woman.  My friend Anita is now lying in the hospital too weak to make it on her own.  Her earthly family has abandoned her.  And of course the cockroaches still make their home among the beds.  Proverbs says that there are four things that are never satisfied - and death is one of them. How true it is in Mozambique.

Today I met another Maria.  She is an AIDS widow with 8 children.  Her husband had a good job and had started to build a nice cement block house for his family when he became ill and passed away.  She is now three payments behind on a house she has to rent and is not well enough to pound out the rice from the hull waiting in her small garden. She tried the microloan program but used her small profits to pay for medicine for her sick daughter instead of buying more commodities to sell at the market.  The only food in her house is 3 kilos of rice. Maria is just one of so many poor along the road...

After our visit I thought about the One who calls me back to walk this road...and I am so thankful that we walk this road together.

Part of the missionary experience in a foreign county is shopping. Ironically, it is one thing my husband and I have in common - we both hate to shop.  Our recent arrival in Dondo found us in the position of shopping for an empty house and a used car -  a bit of a s-t-r-e-t-c-h for us.  But we did manage to quit grumbling long enough to get in the car and drive to Beira. Of course we hoped to find a one-shop-fits-all but then again....this is Mozambique.

Looking for a gas stove by itself brought insight into the Mozambican culture.  In between dodging cars, bikes and people, we stopped at different stores that carried a wide range of random items that were non-related. Finally we found a few stores that carried an assortment of appliances in a variety of name brands that were unfamiliar. Ahhh....then we saw the name "Whirlpool." We settled on a Whirlpool gas stove with an electric igniter.  It had no warranty, no hose, no connector, no clamps and no bargaining.  We paid the proprietor in spite of all that and began our afternoon scavenger hunt.  By the end of the day we found the hose, the connector and the clamps - all hiding in different stores.  We were only missing the propane tank to make our stove work. By that time it was late so we had to call it a day.

The next morning we employed Jeronimo's help.  Surely this Mozambican native would be able to find anything with his eyes closed. Mmmm.....  We spent the day going from store to store only to get the same response from each -  the company selling gas doesn't allow the tanks to be sold without first bringing in a replacement tank. Oh-kay......sure...how does that work?

Our gas stove now sits in our kitchen running on a borrowed gas tank from Cindy and John.  Wanting to try out our new acquisition, I cleaned the stove and pulled out the bottom drawer for inspection.  To my amazement, there was a witchcraft necklace in the bottom drawer!  I am not sure when or why it was placed there but we destroyed it immediately.  It was a humbling reminder as to why we are here in Moz. It makes the inconveniences...even the shopping... a bit more tolerable.

Just so anyone who might think that Mozambique doesn't have anything fun to offer, let me describe the last 24 hours: 

John and Cindy (missionaries with CRI who are here in Dondo full-time), and Phil and I took Manuel and Ramizia on a 24-hour honeymoon.  It is Phil's birthday and our anniversary so it was a chance to breathe before we jump into our ministry.  In the morning we left for a peninsula about two hours north of Beira by a river. We saw several species of water birds and at least 20 baboons by the road.  The Rio Savane Resort is surrounded on one side by the river and the other by the ocean.  It boasts of scenic white sand and a prodigious selection of seashells.  Coconut trees and monkeys sway among the thatched huts. Simple and not commercialized, it is hard to believe such a beautiful paradise exists. The owner was very personable as he showed us the huts that would accommodate us for the night. A new experience for this Wyoming girl, we only needed sheets and not blankets to hide from the mosquitos rather than the cold. Our romantic music was the roaring waves that rhythmically put us to sleep.  In the middle of the night it began to rain heavily on our grass roof and I could hear a monkey chatter outside. It was all so unbelievably peaceful. I couldn't help but wonder if this was a cousin to the Garden of Eden.

The next day we cooked over an open fire before we gathered our packs to go home. It was an amazing 24 hours. On the way to the boat (one has to cross the river to get to the resort) we met some fishermen. They had overturned their very old boat in an attempt to repair it.  They were burning a plastic milk jug in order to use the melted plastic to mend a rather large hole in the bottom of their boat.  Manuel could not help but ask them if it was working.  

Manuel: "How well do you think that plastic will work?"

Fishermen: "It is not sticking very well right now."

Manuel: "What will you do if you get half-way across the river and it doesn't hold?"

Fishermen: "We will count on our swimming abilities to get us across."

Manuel: "Since I don't swim, what will I do if it doesn't hold?"

Fishermen: "You will pray a lot!"

Needless to say, we took a different boat. :-)

The unique bird sounds and noises this morning jarred my jet-lagged head that we had returned to Dondo.  I stretched and glanced out the window at the bright sun streaming in.  Realizing it was getting late, I shot out of bed and aimed for the bathroom.  Ahh.....no water and no electricity.  There is absolutely no doubt - we are back in Africa!

Today was special because Manuel and Ramizia were married. Manuel and Phil work together with the Green Door ministry.  We had been asked to be one of two Madrinhas and Padrinhos for them. (Our definition? A loosely defined god-parent.)  Our duties today were to stand beside them as they exchanged their vows and celebrated with family and friends.  It truly was worth celebrating as this couple has chosen to start their marriage out in honor of God - holding trust, purity and respect as a foundation for a lifetime of commitment.  We celebrate our 36th anniversary this week so we reminisced the similarities and differences between our two weddings.

Ramizia's dress was a beautifully beaded white wedding gown with a lacey veil and tiara. Instead of bridesmaids and groomsmen, there were 24 dançarinos.  The ceremony began at the civil government building and then moved to the church.  Official documents were signed at both places in front of guests and family.  The couple sat for most of the ceremony (can we adopt that one?) with the Madrinhas and Padrinhos beside them.  They exchanged modest wedding bands and even had a unity candle. They also invited Murphy (he lives here too!).

Sure enough, Murphy's law owns no country.  I don't know a single wedding that has gone off without a hitch. We arrived late only to find out that the electricity was out at the church.  The government official was an hour late to the ceremony because his car had broken down. The generator hurriedly used for the church was louder than the music it was trying to support.  Well, until it ran out of gas....  As we were getting ready to enter the ceremony, with horror I realized I had forgotten to hem Phil's new suit slacks by 6 inches!  The external flash quit working on my camera.  After the ceremony we stuffed guests (I do mean stuffed!) into our cars and headed for the reception in a convoy.  My tank was on empty so I pulled out and headed to a gas station.  Forgetting which Portuguese word was "gas" and not "diesel" I accidentally began filling it with diesel. (Gas isn't gasóleo?) Okay, maybe not.  And the list goes on but you get the point...

Even so, nothing can ruin a wedding.  Watching the guests dance their way up to the bride and groom to present their gifts always touches my heart.  They have so little but are always so joyful when they have the opportunity to give.  Manuel and Ramizia had a variety of gifts they received but one that made me laugh.

We piled all their gifts in a one room bungalow behind the reception where Manuel and Ramizia would be spending their first night together. I was beginning to think how similar this looked like our own wedding when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a live chicken laying quietly in a pot among the other gifts.  Ahh...there is absolutely no doubt - we are back in Africa!

It is time to leave Moz again but not without a party or two.  When the Green Door Project completes a cement house we celebrate with the new home owner, friends, family and neighbors.  Today even the traditional village tribal leader came to Maculada's housewarming.  The event was even more special because we presented her with an audio Bible in Sena.  Everyone's face lit up when they heard this wonderful Bible that they could understand. The tribal leader encouraged Maculada to seek and obey God who obviously provided her with this house.  We were surprised at his spontaneous but sincere speech and it encouraged each one of us.  Four of her five children were present and it was with great satisfaction that we reveled in their refuge from the rains, mosquitos and robbers. 

Have you accidentally dropped a bag of marbles down a drain and tried to retrieve at least some of them before they escaped your grasp? You probably didn't have time to pick out your best marble before it bounced away either.  That helpless feeling is something I experience in the face of so much need from so many people in Dondo.  It begs the question, "How do you know who to help?"

It would be great to have an impressive theological answer for you or at best a formula that crunches the numbers and then a definitive answer suddenly appears. Or I could flippantly say ....help one person at a time you dummy.  But that cliche doesn't guide me in the face of so much demand.  Today I had an affirmation of what I was beginning to suspect from my experience in Moz.  I don't need to know the answer - just the One who does...

The morning began at the ROL preschool.  With only two days left to complete the child sponsorship photos, I was concentrating on the task at hand.  A familiar face appeared by my chair and I greeted one of the boys in the neighborhood who always accompanies me while I'm at the preschool.  I use him as a model to adjust the settings in my camera.  He and his brothers are always bedraggled with stretched and torn clothes that barely hang on their slender bodies. Often he is sniffing or coughing and complaining that he is hungry. Ordinarily his brothers are with him but this morning he was alone and pensive.  I tried to get his somber face to lighten up but he obviously had something on his mind.  He related to me that robbers had tried to steal the materials for his new house in the middle of the night. I looked at him quizzically until it slowly dawned on me what he was saying.  The Green Door Project was building a mud hut for a single woman sick with AIDS about a quarter of a mile behind the preschool.  I knew she had four boys, but it never dawned on me until now that they were the boys that had become my friends. It was a great moment for me to realize that God who knows everything, was providing for my friends while meeting the needs of this woman through the Green Door Project.  I couldn't have planned this better.  He kept talking and I was relieved to hear that the men building the hut had rescued the materials and guarded them the rest of the night.  I hugged my little friend and humbly thanked God for His providence and answers that He gives so graciously to all of us.

It is a first for me.  I have never celebrated a birthday in a foreign country and definitely not in Africa.  It comes with a mixture of feelings.  I miss the familiar of family and friends but look forward to the singing and dancing the activistas will engage in as they celebrate the joy that someone has made it through another year.  There was no expectation on my part of receiving a birthday present but today I received one from God that even a million USDs can't buy.

No matter how familiar the hospital rooms have become, there is never anything routine about the job of serving soup. New faces appear in the beds and on the floor, wherever there is room.  It is sad there are more cholera patients but we will have the opportunity to share the Good News with them.  My genuine goal is to get back to see my friends in the room that beds the women with the last stages of AIDS.  As I stop to check on Maria, I notice she is just a wisp of a frame.  She is even looking worse than yesterday if that is possible.  Today the women are weighed and Helena comes in at 23 kilograms.  That is a little over 50 pounds and she is as tall as I am.  Ana Paula comes in at 28 kilograms which converts to 62 pounds.  We offer them soup and Fernando and Marilene make arrangements for them to have the nutritional E'pap.  I notice that Maria refuses the soup.  I am caught by surprise especially when I learn that no one in her family has brought her any food.  So I lean over and ask her again to make sure I heard correctly.  She looks at me and points to her emaciated frame and tells me that she is hungry.  She then asks for chicken, and in case I didn't hear, she repeats it again as loud as her whisper can project.  It slowly dawns on me that she means business.  She is having her own soup strike and is dreaming about something more hearty.  I talk to Marilene about the possibility of bringing this special request.  Marilene explains that if we do it for one, we do it for all.  We both look at the four women in the room and then at each other with calibrating eyes.  We promise to return in a couple of hours but it is too great of an effort for them to respond. 

We return just as we promised but secretly I worry about their ability to even digest the food.  As we enter the room they are immediately aware we have returned and painfully and slowly attempt to lift up their frail frames.  We have brought them coleslaw and stew and carefully divide it up between the four of them.  They each have a table tray before them and all four are now sitting up in their beds.  Then, as they take their first bites of stew and swallow, four skeletal frames look up at us in unison with grateful smiles like a Cheshire cat.  The first I have seen coming from this room and for a brief moment, it feels like we are not in the hospital at all.  It catches me off guard and the tears well up in my eyes.  A healing grace washes over me as I experience this joy in serving.  It is a birthday I won't forget.

Life is not all dismal in Dondo. The bright ebony faces and shrieks of laughter of the children always lift my spirits. This week I am taking photos for child sponsorships at the preschool. I listen outside the classroom while waiting for the children to come out one-by-one for their photo.  It is endearing to hear their loud and clear voices sing in Portuguese a small repertoire of new songs.  Of course, not all of them are happy.  This is only the second week of school and some of the preschoolers spend most of their time crying because they are frightened by this new social experience.

There are six children that I have returned three times this week to take their photo. One glance at a "white woman with flashing camera" is enough to send them into shrieks and sobs. I actually snapped a shot of one terrified little boy "on the run" for his sponsorship photo.  (The good news is if I lose my job in Moz I can always find employment with  "Sulley" in Monsters, Inc.)  It would be rather intimidating if they all responded in this way but most of them are very cooperative though quite sullen.  Little three and four-year-olds muster great gallantry when they leave the security of home and march into the world of education.  It will be a while before they get past the first month jitters and start to blossom like an exotic tropical flower.  Yet not all the children I see are timid...

There are several children in the ROL neighborhood that attach to me like flypaper.  Their expectant faces peer at my window the minute my white truck stops. Then I am accompanied by an entourage of little legs and hands that almost carry me off like ants at a picnic.  We have grown fond of each other though our verbal communication is limited.  Their goal for the day is to entice me to add their "smiley face" to my black box gallery.  They will go to any length of allurement.  One boy yesterday caught my attention because he brought me his homemade toy.  Mozambican children do not have store bought toys so they become quite ingenious in creating their own masterpieces of fun.  This particular piece used a bottle of gin for a car body and admittedly, it was the best use of a gin bottle I had ever seen.  So he earned his way into my gallery of pictures and was quite impressed with his accomplishment.  Not to be outdone however, two boys showed up today with their own clever inventions in full expectation of the same notoriety.  I was more than happy to oblige because I have been trying to collect photos of these toys to show my grandchildren.  In a world of televisions, computers and Play Stations - good old-fashioned homemade toys are a breath of fresh air.  So everything is definitely not bleak in Mozambique. (Be sure to see the children's toys in the gallery.)

It is early morning and I am sitting in the cemetery in Mafarinha. Not a preferred place of resting, but the unrest in my heart called me back.  The silent graves scream of a holocaust that can't be overthrown like a dictator.  It is more like a terrorist that hides in every country and can't be stopped.  Since this terrorist owns no country, it is hard to pinpoint where to shoot.  I am struggling to take aim.

Fernando, Simone and I are at the graves of Fernando's parents and his twin sister.  The rains have washed their names off the crudely made wooden crosses.  Fernando explains that he comes here often to keep the tropical flora pruned that grows on their graves. I suggest we use a permanent black marker to mark their crosses.  He quickly agrees and tenderly writes their names choosing to write his sister's name first.  How sad I never met Fernanda.  She is just one of millions that AIDS has snatched away.

How do you map out a plan of escape from an enemy that has no borders?  If I could pinpoint one or two locations of attack we could rally the forces of annihilation.  But the roads that lead to AIDS in Mozambique are complex. Two stories come to mind while I watch Fernando's attempt to reproduce his family's washed-out names.

Belinha has AIDS.  She is a woman we see in Project Life and the day we met she was displaying her tablecloths in an attempt to make a sale.  She works hard with the gift of a microloan that helps to support her small family.  She is not a widow.   Her husband is alive but not here.  She confides in us that he has taken on another wife somewhere and has not returned to see her.  He no longer brings her food or anything else.  Polygamy is rampant in Dondo.  Some men take on as many as five wives and it is almost expected.  It is part of their proof of manhood.  And why worry about AIDS?  It is just in line with a long list of other killers...malaria, cholera, dysentery, T.B., leprosy or a host of other poverty-related diseases. Why wait for the illusion of tomorrow when the moment of satisfaction is now? 

Fernando is finished and announces that we will go to another grave in Dondo where Simone's mother is buried.  I am thankful that my thoughts are interrupted and he has reminded me of our mission.  In a few minutes we reach the other cemetery and we walk by hundreds of graves.  I am not at a loss of outrage when I walk by the babies and children's graves.  Seven in a row, four in a row....I turn my eyes away only to discover more in the tropical lush. We arrive at the grave we came to see and Fernando grabs the marker to help us complete our mission.  It all seems so despairing until I remember Simone's story.

Across from the lunch table Simone talks between bites with my husband and me.  He talks about the pressure put on him by his family to see the witchdoctor.when his father was sick.  As a Christian he refused to go no matter what his father said.  He prayed that when the time came for his family to see the witchdoctor that they would change their minds.  It rained so hard that day no one could leave their hut so the visit was canceled.  We were amazed at his story and then he went on with more. A girl he knew fell for him and made it clear that she wanted him.  She kept bothering him to make love to her.  He kept asking her to go away.  Finally, in the middle of the night she showed up in his room!  He fled his room to a neighbor's hut and stayed there until morning.  After a while she finally gave up the chase. His neighbors told him he was "lost" for refusing the offer. His story reminded me of Joseph in the Bible.  A man called by God with a special mission and it was to save his people.  The trigger clicked in my head and the aim became clear.  There may be a myriad of mirages that make us think we need to attack - but there is only one true target. It's this power of transformation that only Christ can give that will topple this elusive enemy.  The burden in my heart is lightened as we walk out of the cemetery.  It is still early but we meet another set of mourners who are burying their dead.

This morning we went to the Savane Church plant.  If you click on the 24th picture in the gallery (beginning from the bottom), you will see the church before the rainy season.  Now click on the first picture in the gallery (from the top) and you will see the damage caused by the rains.  Below the picture of the church plant is the hut of a widow with four children.  It is in need of a complete overhaul to its structure as it might not hold up in the next deluge.  I could show you many more pictures like these. The Green Door Project is a new program that is part of the CRI ministry.  It is a workable door that opens up opportunity for the poorest of the poor to have safe housing.  Like any ministry, it is in need of funding.  Would you consider partnering with us for the poor?

My husband and I feel privileged that God has called us to serve the poor. Each day that we spend in Dondo only instills a greater determination to step up and "do something."  Yes, there are moments when the needs are overwhelming, but God reminds us that "together" we can do anything and accomplish great things in His strength.  So this is what I want to ask of you...

Would you consider giving to the Green Door Project on a regular basis?  Even $10 a month for a year would replace two roofs for two families.  It might not seem much to you, but it could keep a family safe from losing their home during the rainy season.  Would your church consider raising money for a cement block house?  It costs $2500 to build one.  It provides a family with a permanent, safe dwelling that protects from the rains, robbers and mosquitos.  Would your church consider sending a team to build a cement block house?  It would change your life and the way you view poverty.

If you are interested, please email us at phil.pamela@gmail.com or you can give to CRI directly but indicate on your check that it is for the "Green Door Project."   Normally in my blog I don't make this kind of a plea, but the needs are too great to not ask.  We look forward to hearing from you!

It is Saturday and we were hoping for a quiet morning and a day off.   We were told that death doesn't take a day off in Dondo.   They must be right because we buried another child and this time it was a two-year-old girl.  The rainy season brings a downpour of malaria and cholera.  It is a formidable time of year.  Due to exhaustion, I was grateful to be an observer today and not have to speak or drive.  Phil drove this time and Manuel was prepared to speak. As it turned out, another man gave the sermon. Before we entered, Manuel reminded us that it is against Mozambican custom to cry in the cemetery.  Knowing tiredness makes me more emotional, I prepared myself to suppress any tears. However, the twenty-two-year-old mother could not contain her sobbing as she sat near her daughter's casket.  So the speaker stopped and admonished her.  It was all I could do not to rush over and hold her as she wept tears that sprung out of the well of a mother's heart.  I didn't even know the child and it was all I could do to not scream from the absurdity.  Instead, I prayed that God would give her the grace and comfort she needed to hold on for a few more minutes.  The next time I looked at her she was asleep in her friend's arm.

We left the cemetery as quickly as we entered.  I commented on the massive amount of graves in the cemetery and Manuel explained to me that this was only one of ten cemeteries in Dondo and Mafarinha.  He went on to say that AIDS has claimed the majority of these Mozambicans.  This sight alone exposes an enormous impact. Where is the intercessor that can stop this kind of insanity?

After the funeral we went out to see Imaculada's house (the Green Door Project) and visit the home of the blind man (José) and his blind wife.  I wanted to see if he was doing better since he was suffering from cholera.  Phil and Manuel prayed with his family after they lost their little baby boy (he is the one José's wife is holding in the gallery photo) this week but I wanted to go encourage him too.  As we came close to his house, the Beast (the truck John usually drives) became stuck in the mud.  Within a minute or two the blind man's children came out to help. They are such a joy. The oldest can't be more than eight but they brought hoes with them to dig out the mud from around the tires. Soon neighbors joined in the diversion and we had a crowd pushing us out.  I love that about Mozambicans.  They are always ready to help. José was sitting outside with his wife so we comforted him and prayed. The children hopped the back of the truck and we dropped them off at a soccer field as we went home after another long day.    

A number of funerals have passed me by in Dondo, but this morning I was no longer an observer.  Marilene and I walked past a crowd of mourners as we entered the deceased child's mud hut.  Inside, the mother lay prostrate on the ground next to Nique's simple and small wooden casket. A few women of the church surrounded the family as Marilene spoke words of encouragement.  I didn't know what customs were acceptable but I sat next to the mother and held her hand.  It was strange to me that no one cried except the mother and grandmother who were wailing quite loudly.  (Janine explained later that crying is only allowed for the family members at a Mozambican funeral and no one is allowed to cry in the cemetery.)  When Marilene finished, the men put the casket in the back of our small pickup.  The mother sat in the cab between Marilene and myself while several women chaperoned the casket.  Simone quickly explained to me that as the operator of the pickup, I was to drive slowly because we would be escorted by singing mourners. Unfortunately, an American's definition of slow and a Mozambican's definition of slow reside in two different worlds. Making a stick shift stay at two miles an hour was a challenge and several times Simone poked his head in the window and asked me to slow down.  I discovered out of the corner of my eye that some of the mourners were running to keep up with me! As we passed the hundreds of people going about their daily lives, I noticed they would respectfully stop and watch the procession.  Their sad faces mirrored their own experience of loss.  As we reached the cemetery, the confined entrance belied what lay inside.

We stopped the truck shortly after we entered allowing the men to take the casket. I followed in line with the mourners and was startled to see the massive number of graves hidden by the tropical growth. It was disheartening to realize that many of the graves belong to children.  I wanted to stop, look around and absorb the history buried in the soil but I had been asked to speak at the graveside.  Death is the separation of a relationship.  I reminded them that this was not God's heart for them. What a privilege it was to share of God's plan for restored relationships. What a great hope to know that our troubles are only temporary.  After the prayer, I watched friends and family plant tropical greenery in the mounded dirt over Nique's grave representing new life.  This is God's heart for Mozambique.  

I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.  Alfred Lord Tennyson 

The first incident of the morning should have intimated the rough day ahead and in Mozambique, that is no surprise.  Janine and I were on our way to the clinic to deliver E'pap when our car caught on fire. Smoke was billowing into the cab of the car by the time Janine and I woke up to the fact that we needed to get out.  The car was immediately surrounded by an astonished crowd of Mozambicans.  One man tried to be helpful by throwing water on the fire.  It was a blessing that the Dondo mechanic Janine usually hires appeared within minutes and insisted that sand be used instead. It was a humorous moment when 12 Mozambican men peered under the hood to see what had caused the fire. We stood one and a half hours in the hot sun before we were on our way again in a different car.  The only minor consequence was that our shopping errands in Beira had to be abbreviated so I could meet Marilene to walk Project Life.

As he looked up, Jesus saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury.   He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. "I tell you the truth," he said, "this poor widow has put in more than all the others.  All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth, but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on." Luke 21: 1-4

What makes God smile?  I have often pondered that question.  After all, when you love someone, you want to make them smile.  You make a joke or act silly because it just might bring on a "smiley face."  The activistas and I laugh often as we walk on the road each day.  We enjoy each other's company and in spite of the pain we daily encounter, we take greater pains to make each other laugh.  Laughing heals.  It gives us hope.  So back to my question, what makes God smile?

I think I know.  I think I saw Him smile tonight.  We were in church when I caught something very small.  Something that was meant for only God's eyes.  A sleight of hand done quickly and quietly.  A few rows ahead of me an activista placed two small coins in the hand of their neighbor to the left.  Immediately I understood the meaning.  Each service (and there are four services each week) brings the opportunity to heartily sing and dance up to the front of the church to present offerings to God.  It is no small matter for a Mozambican to have an offering to share.  So when they do, it is a time of rejoicing.  This activista knows what it is like to go hungry, let alone go empty-handed.  I watched as the "neighbor" danced and sang their way to the alter as my activista friend remained quietly behind.  So while much goes on in Mozambique tonight that breaks the heart of God, I saw Him smile.  No, I believe I saw Him dance and sing.

Living in Dondo always brings ministry opportunities.  I just didn't know that a single day could embrace so many of them. It is important to me to keep these three powerful experiences separated so consequently, I am splitting my blog into three scenarios.

,THE HEART OF AN ACTIVISTA

If just for a day I could take you on a walk with Project Life, it would change your life. I can never walk alongside the activistas in Project Life and not go home at night searching my soul and asking God...no...pleading with God for more help in understanding His heart and His will for the suffering people of Dondo. I often feel like Job's friends when they first experienced his suffering - seven days and seven nights of total silence. They failed miserably when they did open their mouths. They should have just held his hand in comfort. So hold my hand and walk with me a minute while I guide you on this dirt road...

In Wyoming we live in the high desert and see very little rainfall.  Coming to Dondo during the rainy season is really fascinating.  Everything is unbelievably green which is in great contrast to the brown terrain in which we have become accustomed.  We have never seen so much standing water - it works well for the rice they are growing but causes some of the roads to be impassable.  The frogs are in high heaven and shout out their delight all night - in an annoying way.  What really hit hard is what the rain can do to mud huts.

Today for the first time since we arrived we were able to go out to Macharote and see the house that the Green Door Project has begun.  We are building a house for a widow who lost her husband recently to malaria.  Maculada was left with five children to care for with no means of support.  When we went to visit her last fall, she lived in a rented mud hut that was in terrible shape.  First, we wanted to fix her roof and door but knew putting money into a hut that was both rented and falling apart was not wise.  We tried to buy the land underneath her (in Moz, you own the land and the hut comes with it) but the owner wouldn't sell it.  We then discovered the land next to her hut was for sale for only $60.  It was so much better because it had fruit trees on it that would help supplement her diet and help her to have something to sell in the market. It had to be built on right away or she would lose the land. (Even if you own the land, if you don't improve it right away you risk having it taken away.)  The Green Door Committee chose to build a house for her out of other applicants.  What we didn't know at the time - only God did - is that the rainy season would totally collapse the mud hut she had been renting.  (see picture of debris in the gallery) But  wait!  That is not the whole story.  We looked for a Bible to give to Imaculada since she is a new Christian in the Dondo Baptist Church.   The Sena that she speaks is an unwritten language so we hunted for an audio Bible.  We found a Christian organization (Faith Comes By  Hearing) that produces a Malawi Sena audio Bible.  They gracioulsy offered us six Bibles but we were concerned that the dialect would not be the same for Moz.  As it turned out....Maculada was raised in Malawi and speaks perfect Malawi Sena.   Can all of this be mere coincidences or does our God have a heart for widows in Mozambique?

If all of that didn't encourage our hearts, we were blessed again today to see God's pefect timing on behalf of another family.  Noemia introduced us to a family with five children.  Not unusual except that both parents are blind.  In spite of their poverty, they scraped together enough money to start building a block cement house.  Their mud hut had collapsed in the rains.  Unfortunately, they had run out of money and had no means to complete the house.  We investigated their home today and calculated out what it would cost to finish it - $514.00 U.S.  Right before we drove out of Powell to catch our flight to Moz in Denver, a Christian friend from our church handed us $500 cash to bless someone in Moz. Again, can this all be a coincidence?  We don't think so.  It continues to amaze us how much God loves these people and how He is working on their behalf.   All the rain in the world cannot dampen our joy today as we watch God's goodness in the midst of so much suffering.

Leaving the frigid Wyoming weather in January and stepping off the plane into the hot tropics in Mozambique stretches the senses each time we experience the exchange.  The reality of leaving home behind hits hard - family, friends, comfort....and then we walk off the plane and see the need. It's all before us and we remember with gratitude to God that He has allowed us to come once again.  Our first few days moved slow as we adjusted to our home and the inconveniences of no internet, inconsistent electricity, washing our fruit in clorox, hauling water, etc.  But then we connected with our Mozambican friends again - joy, laughter and hugs can melt any inconvenience away.

Immediately after our arrival we were able to participate in the official opening of the first day of school at El Shaddai.  Although the new building is not quite ready, the temporary buildings will serve them quite well for the moment.  Parents completely filled the classroom as they came to acquaint themselves with the protocol of their child's Christian education. It was a joy to see not only the interest of the community but also the government.  They sent a representative to assure the people that they were behind El Shaddai 100%.  If only we could experience that in America! It must warm Jeronimo's heart to see the dream of a Christian education unfolding and the enrollment numbers on the rise.

I rarely say the word "goodbye."  I often say, "see you later." because I don't like the word "goodbye."  It is too final.  I have been corrected by my Mozambicans friends when I say "até logo" (see you later) when I won't really see them until the next day.  "Até logo" in Portuguese lingo means you will see them within an hour or two.  "See you later" in my lingo means I will eventually see you sometime again even if it is not until heaven.  I say all this because my refusal to use the G-word comes from the heavy sadness in my heart.  It is time for Janine, Phil and I to go back to the United States.  I am excited to see friends and family again, greet our newest addition (our grandson is expected to arrive any day now) and enjoy the holidays.  I am even looking forward to throwing toilet paper into the toilet. But I am not looking forward to leaving Mozambique.

The needs are great here.  The ministry opportunities are endless.  The people have kidnaped our hearts and it feels like we have just started to settle in.  I finally recognize landmarks that tell me where I am supposed to turn.  I can shop on my own and give the right change.    The guards on the Lusilite compound wave at me and don't question my presence.  The children are so used to seeing me that they don't attack me with greetings anymore.  It feels like home.

In the shadow of our leaving, we celebrated Friday with the workers from Project Life.  I took them my prized chocolate chip cookies and they surprised me with beautiful farewell gifts. It pained me to think of the sacrifice this must have been for them but they were so JOYFUL when they presented the gifts with dancing and singing.  It was so endearing when one woman came up to give me a handmade candle holder and told me that when the electricity goes off in the United States I am to light the candle and remember all of them in Mozambique.  And she is right.  I will not remember the lack of electricity here in Moz.   I will remember the light of Christ in my Mozambican sisters and brothers who suffer so much but find their strength in the joy of the Lord.

On our last day in Moz, we celebrated the Green Door Project's first house.  Again, we were showered with gifts, singing and tears.  Aida related to us that when they brought their children to see the house they were really elated!  As they returned to their mud home, one of their children summed it up well, "God IS great!  Look at the beautiful house He has given us!"  Aida said she never thought she would own a such a nice, concrete home.  The tears filled my eyes as I realized the gratitude this family had for such a simple, but safe home.  God IS good...and I think He was singing over all of us today. :-)

We are looking forward to the opportunity of bringing back teams to join the Green Door Project and build cement houses for these dear people. We are thankful for Jeronimo and Noemia who have answered God's call to serve a hurting country and have allowed us to come alongside them.  We are thankful for the many who gave towards Project Life's roof repair fund.  We were touched when a group of children from the U.S. gave up Christmas presents so needy families here in Moz could have a protective roof.  Phil and I are also thankful for the many people who are supporting us and making this ministry a reality.  What a joy for all of us to be able to help in the name of Jesus!  As they say in Portuguese, "Graças à Deus!" Literally saying "Grace to God!" or translated in our lingo as, "Praise the Lord!"  Tomorrow we leave to go back home to celebrate a truly thankful Thanksgiving. ~Pam

It certainly has been my heritage to think that nobody should pass through this life without eating a chocolate chip cookie.  My mother baked them.  I baked them.  I taught my children to bake them.  My daughter Hannah is famous for her chocolate chip cookies. After all,  CCC's are a part of our staples of comfort food in the U.S. I have discovered that in Moz, drinking "maheu" (corn maize and sugar) is part of their comfort food.  We are often offered this drink when someone is celebrating a very special occasion. Tomorrow I will celebrate the hard work that our Project Life workers have accomplished and so appropriately today I attempted to make CCC's with my embrigada, Natalia for the celebration.

Making cookies in Moz can come with its own challenges.  We had no electricity or water today.  The temp was soaring outside so I had to make the choice of heating up an already hot house with the gas stove.  But hey, we're talking chocolate chip cookies!  So on went the stove and a baking lesson 101 took precedence over the weather.  Natalia had never made cookies before.  Mozambicans don't usually have stoves but cook their rice and beans outside in a pot over hot charcoal.  I gathered the ingredients that looked reasonably similar (we have raw sugar here rather than "brown" sugar and a U.S. team had kindly brought in the chocolate chips). I then grabbed a bowl, and an old fashioned hand beater that I had found at a Goodwill store in the U.S.  Undaunted, I knew the importance of my mission of sharing this recipe from the grass roots of America...

Natalia paid close attention as I carefully measured out the sugar, eggs, and butter.  Her first language is Sena and her second language is Portuguese and so I tried explaining in my ever-increasingly bad Portuguese the importance of correct measurements. Next, I taught her the importance of "fluffing" your ingredients well.  It is the secret to great cookies (okay, Hannah, I told...).  A large part of the handle had fallen off the beater but I continued to go with great gusto in order to accomplish the "fluff."  Mozambican women have great physical strength so in my exhaustion, I handed it over to Natalia to try.  However, I had forgotten to mention not to lift up on the beater when mixing.  Natalia went hard at it sensing the importance of her mission.  Before I knew it, she lifted up on the beater and in all her great strength, splattered the entire kitchen as well as us with the cookie dough!  Yikes!  We both burst out laughing at the site of it.  Finally, we came up with a system where she would beat the dough while I moved the bowl in a circle. Satisfied with our "fluff," we added the chocolate chips to what was left of the dough.  Natalie took a taste of the chocolate chips and I paused in regret.  I knew I had just hooked her (as most woman are) on chocolate.  Mmmm....  We dropped the cookies on the cookie sheet and I demonstrated to her the stove's timer - another new concept.  Within 10 minutes I was relieved and delighted to see that the cookies actually looked, smelled and most importantly, tasted like CCC's.  Natalia's eyes got as round as the cookie she popped into her mouth.  "Muito bom!"   Mission accomplished - I had just introduced her to the great heritage of chocolate chip cookies. And the best part is that she has a daughter. Tomorrow, I will enlist more members to the "Chocolate Chip Cookie Club"...~Pam

It came.  We were hoping it would hold off for two more weeks but It started three days ago.  The temp was 105F outside - enough to make you melt, when the clouds moved in and the thunder roared louder than anything I have ever heard in Wyoming.  The rain came down like a detonated fire hydrant and quickly puddled on the sandy ground.  It was a welcomed relief from the heat but inwardly I was dreading the consequences.  Living in a mud hut with a dirt floor and an impoverished roof during the rainy season can spell disaster.  It is impossible to sleep when your mat is filled with water and mud or that you think your roof might collapse at any minute.  It is more difficult if you have AIDS because this is another battle that you will have to fight. 

That is why we began a fund at CRI to repair roofs for those in the Project Life Program  at the ROL.  We are in the process of calculating the materials and trying to get them out as early as next week.  If you are interested in helping, you can send a check to CRI, indicating on your check that it is for the "Project Life - Roof Repair" fund.  It is a very practical way we can help meet physical needs of those that are hurting here in Moz.  But that is just the beginning...

Phil has been learning on how to build a cement house since he arrived in Moz.  Our goal is to bring in teams that will build a cement home for a family or widow in two weeks. There is so much to be said about the value of owning a cement home here in Moz:  It will provide protection against the elements - mud huts have been known to wash away in the rainy season.  It will provide protection against intruders - it is impossible to put a lock on a door that doesn't exist.  It will help provide protection against mosquitos - still a leading cause of death.  It will be a good financial investment - taking a step out of poverty.  It will provide stability and predictability - no one will be evicted if they own their own home.  It will provide a sense of security.  Lastly, and highest on the list - it will give us the opportunity to help our brothers and sisters in the name of Jesus.

If you are interested in joining a team for the summer of 2008, please contact Phil at: phil.pamela@gmail.com or contact CRI directly.  

In the meantime, I can hear the rain against the roof so I have to go close the windows.  ~Pam

The word "bored" will never come out of the mouth of a missionary as every day brings its challenges and rewards.  For example, we use the CRI pickup (more fondly known as "the beast") to haul blocks and materials in the morning, a dead woman to the morgue that evening, and pots, pans and people to the ROL's annual staff appreciation day the next morning.  For you see, outside of Noemia and Jeronimo, not a single person at the ROL owns a car.  They just simply are too poor.  Therefore, our vehicles are "part of the team" as much as we are.

These faithful metal missionaries endure a tremendous amount of abuse.  The obstacle course of uneven roads are full of pot holes, stationary objects and constantly moving Mozambican life.  The hot sand permeates into every part of the vehicle while the jostling loosens and pulls every wire and bolt.  The windows go up and down like a jack-in-the-box as its passengers try to alleviate the heat but avoid the sand.  If only they could talk. Janine recently mused over the fact that the beast could write a book of its own for all the drama it has endured and the places it has been.

Due to the big workload, sometimes three out of five cars go on strike.  One day all five decided to join the union and strike.  We are then humbly reminded how dependent we have become on our five metal partners.  We love them, and like all missionaries, they come with their individual quirks. SInce we use them interchangeably, Phil and I were given a quick class on understanding the neuroses of each car.

Auto-Personality 101:  Car A - be sure to hit the "unlock" on the key pad for the car to start, then hit the alarm button for 10 seconds immediately or the alarm will go off while you are driving.  There is no light on the shift so memorize the order of park, drive, and reverse. Car B - Be sure not to roll the back window down only part of the way - it will get stuck.  However, hit it "like this" to get it unstuck.  Car C - the back left window can only be rolled down manually, and it has a poor turning radius to the left so only turn to the right unless you want to back up a few times while turning.  Car D....the list goes on...

In order to keep the peace, all of this is good to know.  Except for one detail.  This grandmotherly type can't ever remember if it was Car A that has a stuck window or was that Car C?  Does the alarm go off in Car B or was that Car D...  Yikes.  Does anyone out there have a class in dealing with "Grandmotherly Types - 101?"

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A Fun Note:  On our day to celebrate the end of the school year with the ROL staff yesterday we were given a huge blessing.  After blogging about the lack of animals in Moz, we came upon a family of baboons in the wild.  They were right by the side of the road so we had a clear view of them.  Papa, mama and baby eyed us warily and lumbered off into the trees.  It was fun to see them!  Then later, I received a special treat.  As I walked into a "casa de banho" (bathroom) I found a monkey sitting on the ledge above my toilet.  He politely left so I could use the facility but the joy of his image will stay with me for a long time. ~Pam

In pursuit of different ministry opportunities, I have spent the last two days walking through Dondo and Mafarinha. School closes in a week so finishing up child sponsorship photos has become a priority.  Wednesday morning found Felix and myself in Mafarinha on a "seek & shoot" hunt for the small number of children that have recently been absent from school.  We found two within a reasonable amount of time and enjoyed visiting with their families. The story of the third child we were seeking turned out to be a bit more interesting. You really can't appreciate the complexity of finding a hut until you have been in Moz.  To me, the small, sandy pathways intertwine into a web of confusion - and the confusion goes for miles. To a national, they know exactly where they are going should they be endowed with blindfolds while walking backwards. So my national friend Felix led the way to this third child's hut. We found out that this child had moved and were given directions where to find him.  So off we went...again.  The new location turned out to be just another clue in the whereabouts of this boy.  This time, a neighbor mentioned he had moved to Dondo with a relative and volunteered his 9-year-old daughter and her friend to help us find him. Not to give up too easily, we piled the two girls in the car and drove across the tracks to Dondo.  We could only drive so far before we had to get out and walk.  So we walked...and walked....and walked.   We finally arrived at a place where the girl asked us to stop. She looked around and said it didn't look right.  So we complied and went in another direction.  After a while, we stopped where she thought the hut might be. She looked around again. There was no light of recognition in her eyes.  I was beginning to realize that 9-year-old nationals can't walk blindfolded - obviously a talent reserved for her future. After a few more strides we gave up the chase for another day.  

That afternoon, Fernando and I walked to Louisa's home with Project Life.  I had wanted to visit with her again and encourage her walk with the Lord.  Fernando can speak a little bit of English so I was finally able to communicate with her. We had a nice visit but it was short-lived because the walk to her house is long and Fernando had other people in his group to visit.  As we walked to the next hut, Fernando told me a little bit more about his family.  I knew he had lost his mother, father and twin sister three years ago.  What I didn't realize is that he takes care of his five-year-old sister, and his 10 and 12-year-old brothers.  He has become mother and father to his siblings. He goes to the church to walk with Project Life in the morning and then serves soup in the hospital for the sick and dying. He then rushes home to his hut to cook for his siblings and then rushes back to continue his work in Project Life. He lives on a very small salary. At 21, he is younger than any of my six children.  It is a blessing to watch this young man serve others so cheerfully and remain strong in his faith.

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Since my first trip to Moz, I have been drawn to the women and how the culture dictates their role.  Life is hard here, but it seems especially for women.  So Thursday morning took me back on the pathway to Dondo and Mafarinha for photos of women. Simone, another young Moz who speaks limited English joined me in order to help me understand the culture better.  There is always so much to see and experience along the path between huts.  Children don't have the availability of toys so they make do with coconut shells or left-over pop cans that are aimlessly discarded.  They have a spirit of curiosity and fun so taking their picture is too easy.  The minute I pull out my camera to shoot one child, I will have thirty in the viewfinder before I can snap the shot. 

Women are busy in their sandy yards with a variety of tasks: cooking over hot charcoal, scrubbing their clothes in a small plastic basin, bathing a child, selling available fruit, pounding maize, hauling water, or nursing a baby.  They carry everything on their heads while their babies are wrapped snuggly in capalanas that cling tightly to their back or hips.  They are almost impossible to capture with my camera.  The minute my digital pops out of the bag, the women scamper away like cockroaches found by the light.  Often Simone would ask permission on my behalf to take a woman's picture but more often than not, she would say "nao" and run away - hiding her face from my view. 

The men are often found visiting with each other or sitting by their huts except for the lucky few that have jobs. Unemployment is ridiculously high.  I was surprised at how many men would come up and ask for a picture. Usually they wanted a shot with their buddies. Today I had a group of men ask me to come back to their job site so I could take a picture of the whole gang working.  They did a nice job posing but the best picture that remained uncaptured was their faces as they giggled over their images in the LCD screen.

As we walked, Simone told me about his upbringing.  His father has five wives.  He has 16 siblings.  He never understood why his father would want that many wives when it is so hard to feed one.  Simone talks to his father about knowing Jesus and coming to church but his father only resists while trying to talk Simone out of his faith.  Simone's hope is to teach his siblings the truth and get them to church.  At 19, he dreams of a college education to help him end the cycle of poverty.  Maybe, he said, he could become an astronaut! 

In the afternoon Simone translated for me as I spoke to a large group of women at the church. He doesn't normally translate in settings like this as his English is limited and he was very nervous. I silently prayed it would all work out. We sang and danced and then I spoke. Scanning the group of women, I was delighted to see Louisa and her baby, Diago. among the audience. Simone spoke in Portuguese and a woman from the church translated in Sena.  Three languages makes any sermon a long one.  I really hoped that no one would fall asleep! With a bit of humor, I remember the story in the Bible that relates how a boy fell out of the window because Paul was so long-winded. The sermon eventually ended and Simone told me happily that God had really helped him to translate because he understood everything that I had said. We both laughed as we realized once again God's grace towards us. ~Pam

Many people have emailed asking about the progress of Brother Domingos' house.  I have uploaded pictures for you to see.  They were able to get the 90 bags of cement (it was bought in stages) and the blocks were made at Manuel's house for security reasons.   Phil and Manuel hauled the 2,000 blocks to the site by pickup in 20 trips.   The updated pictures tell the story.

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The Vineyard team was blessed with a surprise party from the church tonight.  Their time has come to a close in Dondo and the people wanted to show their love and respect for them. Several different groups in the church danced and sang including the children, the Project Life leaders, and several young men.  Individually they honored them with gifts and thanked them for coming to teach them their various skills.  (Mozambicans are thirsty for knowledge and are eager to drink in any information or skill the various teams bring.)  What was humorous about the night is that it happened in complete darkness.  The electricity had gone out before the party began.  It is sort of hard to see Mozambicans when they dance in the night. I think it must be hard to see Americans in the dark too because they had trouble finding individual team members in order to present their gifts.  But the best part came last.

One group of young men had painstakingly prepared a powerpoint to display their new skill but the lack of electricity made it difficult to run!  God is good - at the last minute the electricity came on to the delight of the cheering crowd and the program came to an end.  The Vineyard team was moved to tears at the thought of leaving these dear people who had become family.  It was a very poignant moment.

It is hard to leave when you see so much need.  My prayer is that not only will the team continue to keep ties with their new family in Mozambique, but that they will look at missions with a new set of eyes and an open heart that reaches out to the person standing next to them. ~Pam

On Sunday Janine gave the Vineyard team a day "off" which meant a day at the beach. It was a relief to be able to get away because I have been busy since my feet hit the Moz soil over a month ago.  What is really fun about going to the ocean is this: my husband and I lived landlocked for 35 years even though my love is the ocean.  He promised I could live the next 35 years by the ocean when he retired.  Then we decided to be missionaries.   Mmm...that took our location out of our hands and into God's hands.  Yesterday I found out that you can have your cake and eat it too. :-) We went to the most amazing beach about an hour north of Beira.  My favorite hobby is gathering seashells on the seashore so within a few minutes a dozen varieties of seashells were gathered in my zip lock baggie including a beautiful sand dollar.  As I was walking the beach I mused what a discretionary picker I had become. (I just don't let any seashell come home and live with me.) So many shells are tossed and broken by the ocean's strong waves as they hit the shore. That really spoke to my heart as I thought about the many broken lives that grasp for survival here in Moz.  I didn't realize I would experience that first-hand on Monday morning.

I was standing in Carlos' office speaking with Noemia when she handed me the phone. Cindy was on the other line asking me to pick up a relative of the cook (Josefa) at the Ray of Light Preschool in Mafarinha because she had been held up in the clinic. Always happy to help, I grabbed Debbie - a Vineyard team member - and off we went to Mafarinha.  I found her in the yard waiting to show us where her sick cousin lived.  In the meantime, a young man came out of the clinic named George and asked for a ride to the villa. He turned out to be a blessing because he spoke some English.  We all piled quickly into the car and headed for the sick woman's home. 

There were three children playing in the yard as Josefa went into the mud hut.  Always the photographer, I took advantage of the moment with pictures of these adorable children totally oblivious to the gravity of the situation in the hut.  Josefa came out and urgently called me to help her while Debbie and George waited in the car.  It was difficult to see as she took me to a very small, stifling room that one person could barely squeeze into let alone three.  It was immediately apparent that this woman was near death.  Quickly we tried to pick her up but she was comatose so I asked George to help us get her to the car.  Josefa surprised me by picking her up and putting her over her shoulder. (Mozambican woman have amazing strength.) We laid her in the backseat with Josefa cradling her head and the six of us (the sick woman's mother joined us) immediately headed for the small hospital.  It reminded me of my EMT days but without all the equipment, the ambulance, and the siren.  It is hard to speed on bumpy, sandy roads but we did our best.  Although I knew where the hospital was, I didn't have a clue which small building was the "emergency" room.  We pulled up to the first building and I ran inside trying to explain in my broken Portuguese that we needed their help - fast!  They replied back in Portuguese that they needed to go get a nurse.  So we waited.  Twenty minutes passed as we sat in the hot car wondering what was taking so long.  In the meantime, Marilene and Fernando with two Vineyard team members passed by on their way to provide soup to the hospital patients.  I quickly explained to Fernando what happened and asked Marilene to pray for Josefa's cousin.  A few minutes later the nurse finally came out and showed me where the "official" entry was for the patients.  Quickly I got back in the car and pulled up to the door. Noemia appeared just as they brought the gurney to the car.  We all worked to put this sick woman on the gurney.  Noemia speaks English so she was able to explain to me that this woman had cerebral malaria.  What we learned from the woman's mother just a few minutes later left me almost speechless.  This woman had been in church on Sunday, and had gone to the witchdoctor on Monday.  He had given her "medicine" and without a doubt had cursed her too.  Noemia was very upset.  She told me there was nothing more that we could do.  This woman had made her choice.  She died two hours later.

Debbie and I got silently back into the car.  I found out from Marilene later that this happens often. Many people are afraid to let go of their belief in the witchdoctor even when they have been presented with the truth.  Like this woman, some have one foot in the church, and one foot cemented in witchcraft.  As we drove away from the hospital, I remembered the dead woman's three children waiting for her at home.

Later that afternoon, George saw me at the church and approached me to tell me that he was on his way to help his sister - her baby had just died.  I sadly told him I would pray as he quietly left without a word.

In the evening I found out that Debbie had gone with Marilene to visit women in Project Life.  They had been able to lead one woman to the Lord this afternoon.  Thank you, Lord.  A very painful battle was lost today, but the war is not over.  Thank you again for the ministry of the Ray of Light.  ~Pam

The team did a great job sharing their love with the people of Savane. I am not going to relate it to you but instead upload some pictures. The faces tell the story for me. ~Pam

When you live here in Dondo, sometimes so much happens in one day that it is difficult to choose what to write about. Tonight I am exhausted but I don't want to lose today's stories by not recording them.  

On Tuesday, a team of eleven arrived from a Vineyard church to work with us from the suburbs of Chicago.  Half of them are staying at Janine's - the other half at our house.  It is a treat to hear chatter in English and share a meal with those who grew up as Americans.  Today was their first "work" day out in the Mozambican culture.  This was my experience:

Share a "one-bathroom for seven" schedule, gulp down malaria pills for breakfast, add  perfume de deet, grab my water bottle, add two more team members from Janine's house and stuff eight into a car that seats five along with several gallons of paint and equipment, shift left-sided gears in a car that sounds like it is losing its belly as it bounces along a pot-holed dirt road, answer a hundred questions on the culture, and find the right road to the project.  (Wait, skip the "find the right road to the project" - I missed the turn.)

Their experience:

First world meets third world.  How can so many people live in such a small space?  How do the women carry so much on their heads?  How does she carry her baby on her back with such a small piece of material?  Where are all the people going?  Why are they all waving at us?  It is amazing that they walk so far.  How can 20 people fit in one vehicle while we barely fit 8?

Soon they were absorbed in the project they were assigned for the day.  They started the job working the "American Way" in the Mozambican culture.  Soon they they did it the "Mozambican Way" as an American team.  It was great to see them problem-solve together as a team.  In the afternoon they separated into groups of two and experienced several different ministries of the ROL.

While the Vineyard team was working, I went to shoot more pictures for the Child Sponsorship program.  In between shots I taught a group of children "Jesus Loves Me" in action and words.  They stuck to me like duct tape and quickly picked up both the song and actions much to my delight.  Then of course, they wanted their pictures taken so I have uploaded a few of them.

In the afternoon the Brazilian pastors and the ROL provided a party for the women, men and children that are helped in Project Life.  They blessed them with a plate of rice, chicken and coleslaw and sent them home with a bag of rice, beans and other provisions.  I stood by the building and looked around at the faces to see what this gift meant to each one.  A young mother down at my feet had a baby on her back with two more babies at her side and two older boys.  From my experience working with Project Life I realized she had taken in as her own one of her deceased family or friend's children.  She had received her dinner plate of food and quietly put it down on the cement floor for her children to eat.  She only took about three bites and let her children eat the rest.  It was gone in minutes.   To think that she had AIDS herself and most likely would not be able to care for the very children she was trying so hard to keep alive was unimaginable.  She looked up at me and smiled shly.  I smiled back and inside I was thanking God for the ROL's role in helping her take one day at a time.

We had church in the evening and two of the Americans from the Vineyard church gave their powerful testimonies.  But since my head is falling onto my keyboard and making funny noises I better quit for now.  Pam :-)

Now here is a subject that no one wants to tackle. It is hard not to think about it when you live here in Dondo. It is all around. Every week I have been here at the project, they have announced the death of someone. When I walk into the hospital it never gets any easier. When I speak to the sick and dying, I struggle to complete what I want to say for it becomes a war inside of me trying to hide my emotions. All this suffering can’t be what God wants for us...is it?