Saturday, November 1, 2014

Cultural Grafting

Ladies working in the heat of the day.
The ladies leave their shoes outside the door and quietly enter after a long day of work in the blistering sun. They greet each other with a curtsy or with an arm crossed over the chest and palm laid open on the opposing shoulder. Faces stretch into smiles and eyes shine as they begin to share conversation. We all settle down on the area rug in our family room; furniture is a luxury that some of them do without. The rug on the floor is comfortable enough.  The power is off making it somewhat difficult to distinguish facial features on dark skin as the sun streams through the windows. But you can always tell when someone is smiling as a flash of white teeth shines brilliantly in dim light. After waiting a short time, we are ready to begin. Everyone stands and someone begins to clap a rhythm. Soon bodies begin to sway, and one woman will begin a song. All the voices are in unison as we begin, a little further into the song, the beautiful harmonies begin, along with the continued clapping rhythm. Eyes are closed as each soul present strains to express the joy, the hope, and the love felt from our Savior. As the song begins to end voices become softer and clapping becomes quieter until the final note brings silence.  The silence remains for a short while until another song is begun. We continue singing a few songs. In deference to me, they always try to sing one they know that I know in iciBemba. Singing a song of praise in a different language with people from a different culture never ceases to affect me strongly. I can’t help but envision the time that is coming as we surround the throne with people from every tongue, tribe and nation, with no barriers, only one common goal in mind; to glorify our Savior together.  I can’t even begin to imagine with my finite mind what that will actually be like. I can’t wait and I get chills every single time I think about it. We pray together after we sing and then we do a short study. Currently we are learning how to be Biblical peacemakers. We talk a lot about how we can practice these methods with the young people that are living with them. Many of the ladies are caring for children who are not their own; children they have taken in to their own homes after the death of a friend or family member.  

After our study, a vote is taken on what to do next, English lesson, reading lesson or having someone share a testimony. English lessons win hands down. We all move to the kitchen table for the lesson. We continue to work on handling fragile things; glasses, babies, kittens, eggs etc. You can almost see the ladies’ brains working as they form different sentences in an unfamiliar tongue placed in an order that makes no sense in their own language. They place English pronouns together with English verbs and adverbs as they instruct each other to “Pick up the baby very carefully” or “Put down the eggs quickly”. Then they begin to ask questions of each other in English. Foreheads wrinkle, eyebrows furrow, occasionally eyes are shut tight, struggling to remember. Laughter rings around the table as the ladies recognize “bad English” mistakenly escaping from their friends’ mouths. It is a safe place for them to practice and learn, especially because many of them have never even been able to go to school. Time drifts quickly by as we move to reading lessons. New sounds are introduced as well as the words for different colors. Colored pencils are used. A couple of weeks ago at class I was delighted to watch the ladies put together a puzzle for the first time ever. It was hard to hold my smiles and laughter inside as they argued about what the best way to complete it was. Sometimes mystification filled their faces. Consternation and bewilderment reigned until they began to get the hang of how to put the pieces together. Then just like small children, they began snatching pieces from each other’s hands as they finally put the picture together. Complete satisfaction filled the group as they laughed and gave each other high fives all around.  Class is over all too soon.

Today, I am walking home with them to visit and buy some vegetables from the market. Also we have some employees who are sick that I am planning on visiting while the ladies are with me so I can have an interpreter. After a flying discussion in Bemba that I followed hardly at all, I was asked if I would be willing to drive them home. Of course I agreed. They advised me to put a chitenge on because we would be going to a funeral.  I quickly complied, tying the long piece of cloth around my waist over my jeans as I walked out the door. We all piled into our van and left the farm. We headed towards the compound, home to an estimated eight to ten thousand. 
A termite block home

The roads are rough and difficult to navigate. 
We dodge small children walking hand in hand, chickens, stray dogs and very large potholes. Our first stop is at the home of one of our production team workers. We find her sitting outside on a reed mat with her neighbors. All of us ladies join her as her neighbors move aside to make room for our group. A few feet away, a young girl is being bathed in a tub by her mother. Little boys point and laugh as her mother douses her head with 
water. Her mother lifts her screaming and soaking from the tub and dries her with a chitenge. She carries her inside her home, away from the boys prying eyes. The crying stops as the mother enters the dark coolness of her home, built with mud bricks made from the clay of a termite mound. 

We sit and visit with our friend. She spent a day in the hospital last week with a bad chest infection. In her home, she allows children with TB to stay as she cares for those others are unwilling to spend the time or effort on. The medication she is taking leaves her feeling dizzy and exhausted. She brings her plastic bag full of prescriptions to us and in my limited medical knowledge I attempt to make sense of the unfamiliar names and read the fine
print on all the boxes, bottles and blister packs to decipher side effects. The older ladies in our group advise her to make sure she is not taking any medication on an empty stomach. I tell her through an interpreter to please take the time to be well before she returns to work. Often our ladies will come back before they are well because they are concerned we will give away their job to someone else who is just as desperate to provide for those in their care. Before we leave we all bow our heads and pray for her. Then at the close of the prayer, English words fill the air, “Heavenly Father, we thank you in Jesus name, Amen.” These words are met with hoots of laughter from the group as they were spoken by one of the more reluctant English speakers in our group. We shake hands all around and walk back to the van.

I unlock the doors and we pile back in to head all the way across the compound. I struggle to make sense of the foreign hand signals they give me. Pointing to show directions isn’t done here. The hand is cupped together and held in different positions to show turns, or the fingers of the hand all held together and pointed forward to indicate direction. They laugh at me as I try to imitate what they mean with my own hand. We finally pull to a stop outside the funeral house. (by this I mean, the home of the person who has died) One of the ladies neighbors has died. She still has 4 or 5 children living at home with her. The firstborn is 14 and the youngest is 4. Their father is still alive but has been unable to find work. As we walk past more termite block homes, we see all the funeral house’s furniture outside on the hard packed dirt. Men and boys sit outside the home. A large array of shoes sits outside the door as we approach. We all remove our shoes and duck our heads as we enter the home. The room is filled to the brim with ladies. Poly feed sacks have been stitched together and laid upon the dirt floor. Bodies shift to make room for more and some quietly get up to leave. Each of us finds a place to sit. The room is hot and close. Flies buzz incessantly. Young mothers nurse their babies. Small children solemnly sit on their mother’s laps their eyes huge in their faces. One of them reaches for me and I hold him for a short while until he inspects my white face closer. His face begins to crumple and he dives back to his mother’s lap. The room is filled with silence except for the shifting of the bodies. Then in a corner of the room, the family members of the deceased begin to wail and weep for their mother. The cries fill the room. The voice haunts me a little as I am instantly taken back to every loss I have ever experienced in my life. My eyes begin to fill and out of my periphery I see ladies dabbing eyes with their chitenges. The phrase from the verse, “it is better to go to the house of mourning…” fills my mind. Even though it feels foreign and unfamiliar to hear grief expressed this way, it also feels right and somehow holy and acceptable to be allowed to be a part of it. After sitting some moments in silence, one of the ladies in our group begins to sing. Soon other voices join in and begin to blend. I feel a healing balm pour over the hearts in the room. Another song begins. And then someone begins to sing What a Friend We Have in Jesus in Bemba. My eyes spill over. My heart constricts and I feel full of the grace of Jesus and so honored to know these ladies and to experience life with them. They have allowed me to share life with them even though at times the cultural barriers feel high and impossible to cross. I am grateful. Someone offers a prayer. Our group quietly files out and we replace our shoes. 

We quietly walk past a few more houses until we arrive at the home of one of our processing ladies. She is the young wife of one of our farm managers. Erik took her to the hospital a couple of weeks ago. At the time, she was so weak, her husband carried her out to our van and gently placed her inside. She remembers nothing about her time in the hospital because she was so weak and disoriented. She is shy with us. She self-consciously hides her face and giggles as we tease her husband who is quickly escaping his home as it fills with women. We sit inside and visit yet again. My mind is blown away as I think about how often these women’s emotions have to fly between grief, joy and sometimes fear living here in this place. As mentioned in other posts, life here is raw. But the Zambian people are filled with resilience. I know that their experiences affect them deeply. They are acquainted with sorrow and grief, which of course reminds me of a Man I know. And I am filled with peace knowing that He can meet their needs and that He is sufficient. And I rejoice that I have the opportunity to be here and share with them all because people like you, are supporting and praying every single day. We finish our visit with another prayer and we all head to our respective homes for the evening.

Later that night, I am reminded of something that I wrote traveling on a bus to Lusaka with Erik a few weeks ago…

I have prayed a prayer for years that goes something like this:

Help me to see this world with your eyes, break my heart for the lost, the hurting, the hungry. Help me to see people as you see them. Help me feel the repugnance of sin, to understand the gulf Jesus spanned between my filthiness and your righteousness.

In the past year, I have sensed God answering this prayer more every day. And quite honestly sometimes it scares me. I am sure many have felt this for years, but the intensity I am beginning to feel is overwhelming. And it hits at the oddest times. Occasionally it will happen when I am driving down the road. It may be triggered by the homeless man wearing and carrying all his belongings as he trudges alongside the road barefoot or the two young boys, too young to be alone, holding hands as they walk to who knows where, or seeing a little girl drinking from a filthy puddle surrounded by litter. Sometimes it happens when I am taking care of my own children when they are sick, or taking them to the clinic. My eyes begin to tear up and I physically feel as if my heart is being squeezed. Father, why? Why was I born into a rich family? How much longer does all creation have to await your return? What do you want me to do in response to all the hurting you keep exposing me too? What do you want me to teach my children in this? What I am I supposed to do to help the lost? I am not eloquent, I am only one person, I can't begin to minister to all these individuals. My heart is breaking for what breaks yours but now I don't know what to do.

And as I run through this thought progression time and time again, I hear Him gently say, I know you are one person, but you are part of a body. A huge body, that spreads across this world. Each and every member does their part. Continue to see the world as I see it, work hard with My grace at what I have given you to do. Pray for the things you can't accomplish on your own. Encourage others as they work in what I have given them to do. Stop seeing what you are doing as inferior (or superior, depending on the day). Remember in the Kingdom, others gifts are your gifts as well as you all work toward the common goal of making Me famous among the nations.

Thanks for walking this journey with us. And thanks for allowing your emotions and heart to be touched as you listen to His voice.

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Things are busy here on the farm. Strawberry harvest has created more jobs for more caretakers at Lifesong school. Vulnerable children, widows, families and orphans are being provided for because of  your support. Thank you for partnering with us.

Sometimes we forgot that people may not know just what exactly we are doing here on the other side of the world in sub-Saharan Africa. Larissa and I were talking about her friends the other day and she was wondering if they remembered her or wondered what she was doing. So, she decided to take a quick walk around the farm with me and grab some pics so we could share with you.

Our family lives right on the farm now. While I wash dishes, I look out on the gooseberry fields. When Erik works at his desk he can see across to our orange grove. Upon stepping out the door, you can see more gooseberries, raspberries, and just a glimpse of the blackberries. As you continue to walk out of our yard, you will arrive at the entrance to the processing building. Inside these walls, berries are checked for quality, weighed, labeled and stored in our walk-in cooler until delivery. Also, berries are processed washed, decapped, and made into puree for jam. Jam is cooked and bottled. Honey is bottled. Whole berries are frozen and packaged. Green beans are weighed and packaged. Jobs are received. Hard-earned wages are given. Delivery vans are loaded...sometimes before the day even begins to dawn. Market ladies come with their babies tied to their backs with chitenges to buy berries to sell on the streets of Kitwe. Hands are busy. Feet and backs get achy from standing so long. Laughter is shared. Meetings are held. The love of Jesus is shown. 

As we stroll on past the processing building we pass the raspberries and gooseberries. The raspberries are still looking rough. It's a trial crop here and so far they aren't big fans of Zambia. To our right are the blackberries, and they are looking good.

They are just beginning to blossom. (I think I need a new phone just doesn't take the highest of quality pictures. Thanks for your patience.) Hopefully, blackberry harvest will begin Decemberish. As we continue on around the farm we come up on our Chilean blueberry patch. These don't look great but they are trying. Another trial crop. They are currently full of unripe fruit but the actual plants aren't very bushy yet. We will see.

As we circle around what we call Plot 1, we go past more blackberries and gooseberries. Along our front drive, lemongrass plants are growing. A Peruvian woman told me last week that in Peru they make tea with lemongrass. It intrigued me and it is on my list to do more research into fresh lemongrass uses. (other than chewing on it of course)
I am guessing I need to get to the inner stalks for the best flavor. But somehow I don't think Erik will appreciate me destroying the landscaping. But maybe...I can have it packaged and sell it?? 

In the above picture you can see across the road to Plot 2. Behind the Lifesong teacher housing are more crops. On this side you will find: orange trees, peach trees (another trial), more raspberry trials, greenbeans (as a rotation crop), and over 20,000 strawberry plants. 

The peach trees are just coming out of their "winter funk". It has been fun to watch as each of them have been breaking dormancy at different times. When we arrived, these were so small and now most of them are over Erik's head.

Of course, the strawberries are the main attraction here at Lifesong Farms. They are doing quite well. We continue to search for new customers and new marketing opportunites to sell berries that are coming so quickly.

The orange trees look great. They are grafted on to lemon stock which is much hardier. Our kids find it quite amazing that if you cut off the trunk of the orange tree a lemon tree will grow back. Here's hoping they will take our word for it. I can just imagine them now setting up an experiment for this one.

That's a quick walk around the farm. We would love to share it with you in person. Let us know when you are coming to this side of the ocean! ;)

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Remember when...

Today marks a monumental day for our family. One year ago today we loaded everything up in a giant van and took off for Zambia. This morning I said to Erik, "hey honey, remember this?" And then I showed him these pictures.

By the end of our walk down memory lane, we both were a little teary-eyed and choked up. The emotions we felt on that day were so strong and overwhelming! Having a year of firsts behind us is a relief. It is always difficult to begin new traditions without thinking of where you were the year before and not feeling slightly melancholy. 

We spent some time this week reviewing where we were one year ago. We had saved a list of all the things we had said goodbye to and that we knew we would miss. (categories being...places, places at our house, things, friends and family) We then made lists of all the things we had said hello to in a year's time in the same categories. Again, it was disheartening to see how small the "hello" lists were in comparison to the "goodbye" lists but also encouraging when we remembered how many years it had taken us to form attachments with all the items on our "goodbye" lists. We know the hello lists will continue to grow as we continue to sink roots into our new place. 

Thanks to all of you for your strong love and support for our family during our first year. And thanks most of all to our Father for His faithfulness.

This post is short and sweet due to our awesome visitors! We are having a blast with Erik's sisters, Julie and Christy and Erik's niece Ashlyn. We are carting them all over the place to give them a truly Zambian experience. You can check out Christy and Julia's facebook pages to see their pics. Jule and Ash fly out this Monday, but Christy will be with us for the entire month. She has been driving occassionaly but big brother Erik doesn't quite trust her in town yet...we shall see :)

Love to all of you,

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Farm Friday

One morning last month I saw something I hadn't seen in awhile. It's been over a year and I kind of missed seeing it. What was this marvelous sight you ask? My breath. With the succession of chilly mornings here it's becoming a more common sight. I mean we are in the midst of an African winter here ya know! Even though the mornings start out cool, once the sun comes up, it gets hot in a hurry! But as soon as the sun drops again, it is cold! Our family is currently engaging in an ongoing debate over whether we should break down and buy a heater or not. The discussion continues.

The new field is on the brink of full scale production.
Harvest is just in the very beginning stages. The amount of berries gathered by the ladies will slowly increase until we are in full production again August through November. This will be our family's second Zambian harvest season.
First fruits gathered from the new farm. may be wondering...just what exactly do you do as you wait for the berries to start producing heavily? Well here it is for you, off berry season in pictures.

We build berry barns. And get to know someone new, our summer intern Jonathan Pelsey! Thanks Jon for all your help. We are blessed to have you with us for a couple months. These small booths will be set up different places in town for our farm berries to be sold.
Meet Cowboy. (sorry for the bad pic) Erik has introduced Gift to the old time cowboy of the Wild West. The stories have captured his imagination and he showed up for work one day with this hat. A new nickname was born. Here Cowboy puts up shade netting for gooseberries. 

Trellis blackberries. And irrigate, irrigate, irrigate because it's dry season again.

Plant new gooseberry fields.

Study human anatomy. Make cool snacks that reflect what you are studying.

Catch frogs in the orange orchard. Lots of frogs, like 30 or so. In 1 hour.

Build a toolshed

Decide to raise pigs in the backyard. I knew Erik wouldn't be able to live much longer without raising some sort of animal in the backyard.

Have a berry consultant visit the farm and scout your fields. Thanks to Brian Windsor (from South Africa) for his time and expertise to our Lifesong family.

Taste the berries that are coming on quicker and heavier daily!

Fish in the reservoir. Check to see if the tilapia we added have gotten any bigger.

Laugh like crazy when you go in to town and see trucks loaded with chickens drive over speed bumps and potholes.

Learn a new language.

Gain valuable cultural experience. Smile while doing so. Larissa told me she has been dying to carry home a chicken in a plastic sack since we moved to Zambia. The farm ladies told me today that I wasn't a good wife unless I could kill a chicken in 5 minutes without it making a sound. (too bad for Erik, huh?)

Cover up tight in the cold winter mornings of Zambia

Try to keep cool in the hot winter afternoons of Zambia.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Riss's report on malaria

Today we have a special guest blogger, child number 4, otherwise known as Larissa.

Hi everyone. I just turned 8 on May 17th. On my birthday, I drove the Kubota, went swimming in the reservoir (which we now have fish in!!), had a yummy supper and a cool butterfly cake that mom made. I shared it with dad because his birthday is only 2 days after mine. The very best part of my birthday was that Grandpa and Grandma were here. 

The day after my birthday, mom started to feel bad. She went to bed. I was feeling a little bad but not much. I had a tiny fever so I laid in bed with mom for awhile.  We were supposed to leave for Victoria Falls the next day. When we woke up, we ate breakfast. We played outside for a little bit and then loaded up. Mom was feeling pretty bad and slept right up until we left and then climbed in the van. I felt ok. We had a 6 hour drive to Lusaka. On the way, I started feeling really bad. I had a tummy ache, headache, and just didn’t feel right. When we got to Lusaka, mom and I climbed into our hotel bed. Daddy was starting to get scared. We both had high fevers.  Mom’s was around 103 but mine was 104. He decided to find a hospital and take us there.  I really don’t remember much, but when we got to the hospital, we went into the waiting room. It seemed like an hour but maybe it was only 20 minutes. I felt really bad now, kind of like I might be dying. Finally they took mom into a room. Then we waited a little longer and then they took me and dad into a small room. They took my temperature and then they weighed me. We had to wait in the hallway then. A lady called us and we went into another room. There they asked me what was going on with my body. I told them about how I was feeling. She made me lay on a bed. She checked my heartbeat. Then I had to go to another room. There was still just one nurse helping me D addy sat down on a chair beside my bed. The nurse came up and dad told me about what an IV was. I didn’t know what it was before. When he explained it, I knew what it was and I started to get scared. The nurse told me it wouldn’t hurt for too long. First, she tied a glove around my arm to make my veins stick out. She stuck the needle in my vein on my wrist real quick, it didn’t hurt for too long. A short time later, one of the doctors who was a lady went coo coo! I think she was mad about my IV or something. She came stomping in and she asked if my IV was in already. Dad said yes. She got all bent out of shape and went running out of the room. A short while later she was stomping down the hallway yelling out words in a different language. Maybe Hindi or something. Awhile later, it was time for supper but I didn’t feel like eating. The nurse found me a room upstairs. They wouldn’t let me leave because my IV was hooked up and because I had too many malaria parasites in my blood. Dad kept trying to get them to let me leave, but they refused. We finally settled on me staying overnight. I was so scared and didn’t want to. I kept crying whenever Dad talked to me about it.

Finally mom came and climbed in bed with me. She spent the night at the hospital with me in the same bed. It was a bad night. I don’t really want to tell you what all happened because its kind of gross. But they gave me medicine through my IV all night. They would just barge in to my room and turn on the light in the middle of the night. In the morning, we got out of there, but mom and I still had to receive injections through our IV ports. We wanted to get to Victoria Falls! We went back to the hotel. We got all our stuff together and climbed back in the van. My port started to feel really bad. I think I ate some crackers that day but that’s about all.
Mom and I with our ports

When we arrived in Livingstone, we checked in. Dad was talking to the guy and he asked if there was a clinic or hospital nearby. The man told us they had a nurse there! At the hotel! We went into our room. I laid in bed. The nurse came to our room and looked at our medicine. She said she could take care of it so we followed her to her clinic. But bad news, my port was blocked because my blood had dried up inside of it. I didn’t drink enough water and I got dehydrated. Bad news again. She had to stick a needle in my hand for a new IV port. She put the medicine in. It stings when she does that! We went back to our room and went to bed. The next day we had to see the nurse again and she gave us more medicine through our IVs. We had to do that for 3 days. I think. It felt good to get the port off, but it was still a little sore. Mom told me about kids who have cancer and other diseases who have to have ports too.

While we were in Livingstone, we heard that a little boy at Lifesong school died from malaria. I felt so scared. I wondered if I would die too. But mom told me, that I was getting medicine for it and I would be okay. It made me sad that he didn’t get medicine quickly too.

When we came back to our house, I was all better.

And actually, I got malaria again just last week.  But it wasn’t as bad this time. It still isn’t fun. And mom gets scared when my fever is 104.6. But we have medicine and I am better and thankful.

Mom looked up these malaria facts online.

Every minute, a child dies from malaria
Malaria is a serious (sometimes fatal) disease that is spread by mosquitoes who have been infected by a parasite. The disease is spread when mosquitoes feed on humans.
Malaria exists in 109 countries around the world, making 3.3. billion people (half of the world population) susceptible to the disease.
About 90 percent of malaria-related deaths occur south of the Sahara in Africa. The majority of these are children under the age of 5.
Common side effects of malaria are high fever, chills, headache, and other flu-like symptoms. Severe illness and death can normally be avoided if the disease is properly treated.
In 2010, 216 million clinical cases of malaria were recorded worldwide. 655,000 cases were fatal; 86 percent of those were children.

Thanks for reading what I had to say about malaria. Sometimes its weird to think that I have had malaria when I know I can die from it. My mom feels guilty sometimes because we can get medicine so quickly. But the good news is that we have a cool Nurse at Lifesong School. Her name is Christabel and she has lots of malaria meds. She even has malaria tests that she does for the kids who she thinks have it. Dad says she is a huge blessing to have here and we are so thankful for her help.

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Botswana Safari

I can see I am really bad at following through on posting when I say I am going to. Good thing Dad sent me a hint over Whatsapp today ;) Somehow...time just slips away. Please know that despite our silence we think of many of you often and our hearts overflow with thankfulness. Whether its by your example, kindness generosity, expertise, emails, or prayers, our lives our made richer by the blessing of your life. 

Below is a blitz of nature photos from our safari with Dad and Mom in May. (What?? an entire month has gone by??)  We spent the first part of our safari in a boat exploring the river. Jonas is helping me remember what we saw that day. Hippos, elephants, nile monitors, crocs, really cool birds (like bee eaters, African fish eagles)

crocs sun themselves on the shore

Elephants wading through the water and grazing on the water grasses

Cape Buffalo with a cattle egret passenger

hippos at a distance

Savannah kept saying, "oh I wish an elephant would just swim right in front of the boat! That would be so cool!" She got her wish. :)
 At this point, we disembarked from the boat and enjoyed a buffet lunch at a nearby lodge along the riverfront. After dessert, we headed to Chobe National Park to take a driving safari through the park.
elephant leaving the river

I wish you could tell how close we are in these! They were right in front of us!

I am kind of in love with this tree...

So that's how they do it with those looong necks! 
The lions were chilling in the shade while a baby elephant they had killed was waiting for them to feast on in the sun. 
One of the highlights was being able to watch a leopard stalking some impala. It was incredible. She was unsuccessful but watching the drama play out was exciting. Viewing her as she stalked was amazing. Lots of times we would lose track of her even in the spare grass until she would make another slight movement, creeping ever closer.

 Sometimes the mother in me gets really down when I think about all that our kids are missing out on the States. No piano lessons, organized sports, vacation Bible schools, dance lessons, etc. But then I realize they are being provided with other incredible experiences and I am thankful. This is one of those times.

While we were in Livingstone, we received word that one of our Lifesong School students had died from malaria. He was being cared for by one of our farm ladies. During the month of May, there was a huge outbreak of malaria. Malaria is always a big deal, but this May was worse than usual. Daily, funeral trucks would drive by our house packed full of Zambians singing on their way to the cemetery just down the road from our house. It always haunts me a little to hear the funeral processions go by. I wonder how old the person may have been, what sickness did they have, were they able to afford medical care at all...And most haunting..did they know the entire plan of Salvation? Do the people attending have hope? Do they understand and remember that there is more to come?

Please continue to pray as our family and team work alongside the beautiful people here.