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How We Can Really Help

Recently at Tracy’s Heart, a mother and her teenage daughter, who had heard of the program, came seeking help. They live way out in the poli (mountainous hinterlands) without anything. And I do mean absolutely nothing. They were completely destitute. The woman’s husband died some time ago, and ever since they have shifted around from place to place, staying wherever they could find a shelter from the rain and cold or a floor to sleep on.

We listened to their story. They had been staying at a relative’s tiny house, but they had to leave. Someone in the house had an eye for the innocent sixteen-year-old girl and raped her. She is now pregnant and scared, with no place to live and only her mother’s support. Her mother desperately wants to learn a trade so that she can set up a micro business and provide for herself, her daughter, and soon-to-be-born grandchild.

Nsimire (not her real name) was accepted to Tracy’s Heart’s year-long program, but because she knows no one in Bukavu, they have no place to stay. They return nightly to some far-off village, walking for several hours one way. This is not proving doable. So, Byabeka, director of Tracy’s Heart, found a small room for them to rent. However, Tracy’s Heart is operating on a shoestring itself right now. With costs of everything rising and the political climate so unstable, the foundation is woefully underfunded. Byabeka told us about this little family and asked if we could help in any way. Without question, we had to find a way to help. I knew I had to help and Brenda felt the same way, though we both are also very short funded right now.

How much is needed? Seventy dollars will rent them a room for a year, and it can only be rented if the year’s rent is paid up front. That’s right, seventy dollars a year. Not much, but it will make an extraordinary difference in these three lives. I know I’ll find a way to make our dollars stretch, and we know God’s promises are true. He will provide. Our need is nothing like theirs!

Leaving Tracy’s Heart that day, I was overjoyed to have had the opportunity to help them. I was blessed to meet the young girl, quiet and shy and completely overwhelmed by what was happening to them: hope was happening to them. However, this is just one story and there are many, many others.

Herein lies the difficulty of living in Congo: how does one deal with seeing so much tragedy and need, and being able to help so little? I admit this is an emotional challenge for me. Yet day by day, we have to choose to rejoice in giving to the ones God brings across our path when possible. Our goal for being here is to help people in all realms–spirit, soul, and body, whatever that might mean.

It is difficult to talk about the spiritual inroads we are seeing; they come slowly or are too personal. However, I can excitedly report that Brenda and I, along with the woman who heads up our province’s women’s ministries, have begun planning a seminar for the women in Bujumbura, Burundi (the capital city of a bordering country) after Christmas.

It’s easier to speak of the physical needs of the people, those we can readily address. Of course, those are the problems that often require money. Sometimes, like today, we hand it to someone who will see that it is used wisely to rent a place for a destitute family.  But help is not always cash; it can be an antibiotic or even a day’s worth of Ibuprofen. On the same day we covered Nsimire’s rent, we also paid for a supplement that’s supposed to help with painful neuropathy for a diabetic. Yesterday, it was an old door that, to us, was no longer usable. Ray gave it to a man who needed it for his house. Also today, we fed a grateful crew wiring our house-to-be with a large portion of rice and beans for their lunch.

Tomorrow is a new day, and with it will come new opportunities and new difficulties to deal with. But His mercies are new every morning, too! With the right focus, we will overcome.

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The Perils of Language

With a big padlock in one hand and my phone on flashlight mode in the other, I could not get the two outside doors pulled tight enough together to get the lock in both steel loops, which was necessary to lock up for the night. Without any electricity in the entire area, saying “pitch black” doesn’t cover the darkness of the situation.

In frustration, I called out to the zamu (one of the night watchman) , “Jean Marie, tafazali unisaidie kufungua mulango pale nyuma!” I was saying in Swahili, “Jean Marie, please come help me lock up the back door.”

He came, and with his flashlight, took off the lock completely. “Ahh,” I said, thinking I had it put in wrong and he was showing me how to do it properly. But then, as I watched, he opened the door and said, “Unaweza sasa kuenda inje” but with a puzzled look on his face and doubt in his voice. (Translation: “You can go outside now.”)

Kindly, he shined his flashlight on the ground so I could see the steps to the backyard. I hesitated. But cautiously, I stepped out, saying under my breath in English, “What does he want me to do out here? I really can’t even see my own hand, let alone anything else.”

He looked at me and I looked at him, and for a moment time stood still as I wondered what to do next about my questionable situation. So finally I said, “Siwezi kufahamu nini unataka mimi kufanya?” (Translation: I don’t understand, what do you want me to do?).

“Aaaah,” he said and began to laugh as he opened the door wide, indicating I was to come back inside.

At that moment, Brenda came into the back room to see what was going on and Jean Marie told her what I had asked him to do. She laughed uproariously and explained that I had told him “kufungua mulango,” (“OPEN the door”). In reality, I should have said ”kufunga mulango” or “close/lock up the door”. One letter different!  The upside: I will never again confuse the different words for “lock up” and “open.” Small, seemingly insignificant things, can make a huge difference when it comes to communication! Pay attention to the details.

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It’s a God Thing!

Here we go again!  

We are excited to be heading back to Congo once more. Our hoped-for departure date is October 7. Our passports are at the Congo Embassy in D.C.; we are awaiting approval for six-month visas.   Plane tickets are reserved and we’ve begun to pack household goods, personal products, and medical supplies that can’t be purchased there. We will be setting up our own new section of the mission duplex, so we will have extra baggage for sure. We have raised about 50% of our financial support to live there for the next six months but still need extra to make our house livable, and beyond that, in order to have the funds to begin our work projects. We know and trust God is at work, touching people’s hearts to want to be a part of this mission and give financially. Every time we help someone in a myriad of ways, buying medicine, paying for a surgery or another semester of school, giving someone a job or providing food for a family for another month, or even just giving someone an encouraging word or prayer, you are only one person away from helping them yourselves!  

Once in Bukavu we will have to buy a generator, stove (half electric, half propane), washing machine, and a table and chairs, We need to put in a bathroom, kitchen counters, cupboards and sink, and so on. There will be lots of work to make it all livable with the basics, but it can be done with the help of others. In the process, it will give work to those who desperately need it, so it fills a double purpose and becomes a double blessing.  

Just what is our vision for the second term? We will continue to fill teaching opportunities that have already been scheduled. I (Jayn) will work where I can with Tracy’s Heart, teaching and making suggestions for the ladies to learn to make and sell. There is nothing that has touched my heart more deeply and created more tearful joy than watching a woman who previously had no home or hope, no help, no skills be taught a skill to create a micro-business. Upon completion of the program, she graduates with an audience and applause, gifts to start her own business using the skills she has learned, and can start making a living and home for herself and children.  But that is only the physical realm (although it’s certainly important). Spiritually, she goes away knowing she is loved by God and by us, and she has a greater sense of self and hope for a better future. The look on these women’s faces is a joy to behold!

Ray, too, hopes to begin the Sawmill Project. This means he will have to travel a bit to buy trees, taking the mission’s portable sawmill along with him, giving jobs to men and teaching them skills in the process. They will cut the trees into boards and sell them. Construction in Bukavu is on the rise, and lumber is hard to come by. Eventually, this project has the promise of becoming self-supporting, which means it can then support other projects.

Some things are much cheaper than in the U.S., like rent, at just $250 a month. Pay scale, too, is extremely low for workers and is set up by the government, though wages are never enough. A night watchman gets $200/month. A day guard gets more, as he is asked to help with the property upkeep and is usually more skilled. But we are also responsible for medical care, medications, hospital stays, etc., for our workers and their entire families, and we sometimes help with school fees as well. But we don’t stop there. Anyone who works for us on a regular basis gets meals, too.

Electricity is cheap, but that’s because we don’t have it much! However, internet service is five times higher than in the U.S. A generator big enough to run the few appliances we have to have–refrigerator, hot water heater, washing machine, and lights–costs $700-800, and a washing machine costs about the same. I can’t guess how much furniture and a few kitchen cupboards will cost, but I know it will be far less than here.

The vision for what we want to accomplish is varied and can change at a moment’s notice. It all depends on funds. I have been asked to look into the prospect of starting a school for orphans in the future, so I will be exploring the feasibility of that this term, too.

As Ray and I talk about the facts of life there, the difficulties and hardships, people often ask, “Why in the world do you want to go there?” Why, indeed, we ask ourselves! But always in our hearts is the knowledge that we are supposed to be there. We love what we do and the people we work for. For us it’s settled, and . . . it’s a God thing!

If you feel called to partner with us, you can simply click the donate button below or on our Facebook page, or you can visit our GoFundMe page. We’d be so grateful for your partnership! We are a 501(c)(3), and all donations are tax-deductible.

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A Child is Missing!

The end of a busy day had come. The day workers were back at their homes; the night zamus (watchmen) were at the house, but they were outside checking every nook and cranny of the yard to see that no unwanted visitors or thieves were lurking, and the gates and house were safely locked up for the night. It was 5 p.m., getting dark, and relatively quiet. There woudn’t be electricity for a couple more hours, so we had flashlights at hand and the lantern ready by the gas hot plate to enable us to cook.

Then Brenda’s Congo cell phone rang, a raucous noise, that broke the quiet. It was our treasured kitchen worker. She arrived home after work to discover her eight-year-old daughter was missing and that no one had seen her since early afternoon.  Family and neighbors had been searching the vicinity to no avail. She lives in a congested area, our worker, where houses are massed together on the side of a mountain. Of course, we all prayed. Together, separately, grouping together with the zamus, trying to remain peaceful and unafraid. Dinner was forgotten. We called Jean Pierre, and he, too, was very concerned, and came to be with us and pray. Everywhere in Bukavu, it is dangerous after dark, and it was not like this particular child to disappear. It wasn’t until later in the evening that we learned just how dangerous things really were.

Hours went by in the darkness. No one knew where else to look for the child. Concern grew. Me, I paced in the front yard by myself in serious prayer asking God to give someone, anyone wisdom and knowledge of her whereabouts before something bad happened to her. I, like everyone else, was agitated and concerned. Adding to the concern, we were told there were people kidnapping girls under the age of ten, removing their female parts, and leaving their bodies, dead, or maybe still alive, on the side of the road. Why? For witchcraft purposes. Enough said. Learning that while this precious little girl was missing, made matters worse. Knowing I could do nothing to find her, I asked God to at least give me inner peace if she was going to be alright.

I continued to pace and pray. As I did, a sweet peace settled into me, displacing worry and agitation like honey on buttered toast. I walked into the house with a smile. I could relax again. A short time later, the call we’d been hoping for came at last. Someone had called our worker to say he had her child and was bringing her home safely! But the story doesn’t end there.

Earlier that evening, a motorcycle taxi driver was going off duty in a different but heavily populated part of town. He encountered a little girl walking around aimlessly, barefoot. (Note: Some people who still maintain traditional beliefs think an unknown child without shoes is a witch. In fear, some would have wanted to kill her. Yes, such things still exist here.) The taxi driver picked put the girl on the back of his motorcycle and drove her around the area, trying to find her home. But she was lost and didn’t know the way back.

Eventually, he gave up and let her off the motorcycle. But as he drove away, leaving her behind in a dangerous area, something or Someone nudged him to go back and try again. He obeyed the nudging. But again, the hunt for her home failed. Once again he dropped her off, heading for his own home. But the nudge came again. So again, he went back for her and continued up the mountain to another heavily populated area, looking for landmarks she might recognize. Someone finally recognized the child, someone else was found who knew her mother’s cell phone number, and the taxi driver called to ask directions. Finally, he was about to deliver her home, into the arms of her mother. Relief flooded us all as we waited to hear the rest of the story.

Why had she left home? How did she get so far away? We later found out she was being mistreated by her grandmother and wanted to find her mother, at work at our house. She had run away without her shoes, something no child is normally allowed to do. 

There is much to the back story that privacy matters don’t allow me to share. But I can share the positive news: much good came out of the crisis! A little girl is safe today. Certainly, the power of prayer was mightily demonstrated, as was the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit. Problems came to light and could be handled. We could sleep peacefully at last, confident in God’s presence and providence.

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Home Again, for a Time

Where are we now? What are we doing?

We call Middleville, Michigan “home” so we are presently at home, though we have been traveling a lot to see children and grandchildren: Tennessee, Virginia, even Florida for an incredible surprise weekend at Universal Studios with our daughter Graci.  We’ve been amazed by how the grandchildren have grown and changed, helped with remodeling projects at our kids’ homes, and in general enjoyed reconnecting with family and friends–some old, some new!–driving on real roads, and having places to go.  Yes, it has been somewhat frenetic and totally joyful to be back home!

We’ve eaten at a few new restaurants: fabulous French in Virginia, incredible Italian in Comstock Park, Southern BBQ in Memphis, the best steak ever in Orlando. We can’t get used to how light it stays each evening, meaning I think it’s still daytime when it’s 9:30 p.m.! (In Congo it gets dark at 5:30-6:00 p.m. every night all year long) Grocery shopping is now delightful (read on to see why it wasn’t always) and I am thrilled whenever I turn on a light switch and light actually comes on.

Several people have asked me a pertinent and sensitive question: Is it difficult to be back in America where life is so vastly different and we have so much stuff. 

Yes. It is difficult. While in Congo I did not think of my house or my possessions, or even (for the most part) what services we have regularly here. I focused on life there in whatever form it took, and in Congo we live a life with just the basics, though sometimes not even those.  That means magnifying and enjoying the smallest joys: finding a form of cream cheese in a small jar at the grocery store, rejoicing with glee when I had enough warm water to get all the soap washed out of my hair, or being entertained by the cat having fun with a pretend rat in the evenings because there’s no electricity and nothing to do.

So when I entered my home after the long plane trip, I was overwhelmed by the amount of “stuff.” Overwhelmed and a bit disgusted. Not by any stretch of the imagination could I say that in the U.S. we live with just the basics. Immediately came the thought that I must pare down what we own because we don’t need it all. For several days I found myself dealing with a tightly wrapped ball of conflicted emotions, so tightly wound I couldn’t distinguish one emotion from another. All I felt was a jumble of very uncomfortable feelings which produced stress, aptly identified as reverse culture shock. Likewise, in a huge grocery store in Tennessee, there were enormous amounts and varieties of fresh fruits and veggies. As I looked over table after table, I fought nausea while tears came to my eyes. I thought of Congo, of life for the people there, then the thought . . . What would happen to all that produce if it was not purchased soon enough?

It took a little while to move past that.  I am sort of back, though not completely because life and work in Congo goes on while we are home, too. For instance, we have continual connection with our workers and the overseer of our house project that began last February. When they have electricity or the internet is strong enough, we Skype to watch the progress, answer questions, make corrections on how things get done, or assess when more money is needs to be sent. We continue to pay all salaries, housing costs, workers, and their families’ doctor bills, even though we are back home.

Ray is working again, as often as he has a job. Living on a limited budget is not easy at home, let alone when we are continuing to pay all our same costs of living in Congo. Do we need financial help? Absolutely! Want more info on how this mission works and why we need money? See our Donate page. For this article, suffice it to say we have to raise all our own funds.

The work of the Sawmill project Ray was to begin could not be started because of some major political problems, unrest in certain areas, plus the need for a more thorough knowledge of Swahili. We took lessons in Swahili three times a weeks throughout our first term and some of the political problems are now being worked out. So he has reason to hope it can begin sometime after we return. But that takes work funds.

While we are home, we’d love to answer any questions, singly or corporately, take a speaking engagement for groups, churches, individuals, and hopefully raise work funds to go back.

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Building in the Congo: Altogether Different!

Things are progressing quickly on our half of the house here in Bukavu. But how it differs from building in the States! Everything is made from bricks, gravel, sand, and cement, with Rebar and various kinds of steel to hold it all together. Boards are used only for making forms for pouring cement. Cement is made by many hands and shovels, carried then uphill in half jerry cans balanced on the workers’ heads.

What is amazing is the workers; they range in age and gender depending on the project and/or the skill needed. There are no machines or electric tools used; everything is hauled in or out via sacks carried either on the head or on the back. Where old cement floors or walls had to be demolished, the tools used are small sledgehammers, crowbars, and pure muscle.

The main crew works from 8:00 am to 5:00 pm six days a week and are happy to have the work, while various day laborers are used to haul rocks, broken bricks, or debris out to the side of our road. From there, passers-by and neighbors pick through the rubble for products they might be able to use.

We hired a local widow to come every day to cook for the workers. (Feeding hired workers a meal midday is requisite.) She is a delightful mother of five whose husband left her for parts unknown. She had no work, and is thrilled to be working for us; it means she and her kids will eat well. She has a little, covered area down the hill out back where she cooks beans and rice over charcoal every day. But don’t imagine red-and-black sacks of King’s Charcoal Briquettes on a barbecue grill! No, she fills two old tire rims with handmade charcoal to cook on. Charcoal is formed from slowly burning wood in certain other areas of Congo. It comes in bags as big as a person.  

Annee cooks for hours, serves the workers, then washes up the dishes (in rainwater collected in a temporary blue holding “tank” made of tarps and tree limbs) and then begins cooking the beans for the next day. They take a very long time to cook. The workers tell us that after they eat, they have renewed energy to go back to work.

We buy both dry beans and rice in large 25-kilo sacks (55 lbs.). Anywhere from six to twenty workers arrive daily. Today was a BIG day: forty young men (and a few women!) showed up to do the actual mixing, carrying, and pouring of cement that, by end of the afternoon, became the ceiling of Ray’s workshop/guestroom and final floor for our house on top. Skilled workers came to work on the installation of plumbing, electrics, and water lines.

What a lot of fujo (noise, activity, occasional arguments, songs, and conversation)! Three women–Annee, Chantal, and MariJani–were required to cook the food for this crowd. Vast pans of rice were boiled and pots of beans (with salt, tomato paste and oil) were stirred for hours over four charcoal fires while sweat ran down the faces of the women, and smoke clouded their eyes. Yet all were happy and without complaint; nothing seems too hard, and all were grateful for the work.

Every time I came to watch the progress, several of the regulars greeted me warmly. As Ray circled the building, watching the progress and talking with the main engineer, sometimes making a change or correction, I sat with the cooks, stirring beans upon command, asking questions, and laughing with them. But all laughing aside, it is grueling work for all concerned!

Often people from the churches, or even other provinces of Congo, stop by to check on the progress because they’ve heard we are building. They are thrilled. It represents hope and excitement that people from America value them. It means we are willing to stay and live amongst them.

One of the best things we get to do is provide jobs. We may not be able to provide long-term security, but for the time they are working for us, they can feed and clothe their families and put their kids in school a little longer. This is clearly appreciated. Of course, our work and our desire are to teach, to go deeper into matters of the heart and of the Spirit. This is the way to not merely survive but to conquer. They welcome us for that, too. So while we learn better Swahili (and like it or not, attempt to learn some French, too) we are already looking forward to more things we can do our second term in the fall, when our house will be livable.

We would certainly welcome your financial support to both finish the house and support our work!

We’ll return to Michigan in May and are open to speaking engagements.

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Breaking Ground on the Mission House

We broke ground on the mission house expansion (for more details, see this post). Here are some photos of the constant action, which differs greatly from construction in the States.

Before the groundbreaking.
JP, Brenda, and Ray (L-R) pour the first batch of cement.
Demolition begins.
Another view of the backyard before the demolition.
Getting ready . . .
Ray praying for safety and blessings over the workers during the project.
Many workers, some women. Footwear? Sandals or barefoot! Tons of dirt is removed by hand, as there are no power tools or machinery.
The lower backyard. Sand, bags of cement, gravel, etc., are all carried in sacks on top of workers’ heads. The blue fenced-in area holds rainwater to make cement, which is stirred by hand in tiny buckets.
Rocks! It looks worse as it continues. Some are saved for use under the foundation floor, some to pile in front of the wall by the road.
Progress. The green paint is where our bedroom used to be.
Brick walls are going up as the water tank stand comes down. The bricks will not show when covered with cement.
All that rubble has to be carried out on heads! The water tank tower is being dismantled one hammer blow at a time!
This is the view we’ll have when the expansion is finished. Amazing!
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The Mission Becomes Clear

About 60 people attended a couples’ retreat where we were blessed to teach on God’s vision for marriage.

In the beginning of this venture to return to Congo, we knew little of how we might be used. Of course, we knew Ray’s gifts and talents in the mechanical, electrical, and carpentry world would be used in a myriad of ways. Truth is, I don’t think ANY of us could be here without him! Yet Ray and I both wanted more, to help in the spiritual realm as well as the physical. Little did we know just what direction that would take!

After some unexpected experiences, like being invited to a young couple’s marriage seminar and surprising conversations with people of all ages, some surprising things have come to light. There is a great need to teach God’s design for marriage, the role of women in marriage, and what true love is. In May we will be married for fifty years, which makes us an anomaly here in the Congo! To the Congolese people, fifty years of marriage means we have great experience and must know things people here do not. They say our experience can help them. Young people are asking us to teach them about love, marriage, bringing up children, and even sex! (Gulp. Really?) It seems these things are not taught by parents and consequently, are learned on the streets.

Recently Brenda and I did a multi-church women’s seminar; her topic was marriage,  and mine was bringing up children in a Christian home. It was wildly well-received, and they want more seminars from us. Brenda had them break up into groups to discuss and write down five problems Congolese marriages face. Each group then shared with the whole group the problems they had identified and explained their reasons for doing so. As I listened, I wept on the inside, and after returning home, I wept on the outside. Such pain was revealed! Centuries of traditional gender roles weigh heavy. Change in culture and tradition comes exceptionally slow, if at all.  

There is a wide-open door for ministry and teaching here, one we hadn’t thought about before. But it is one we are beginning to focus on and prepare for. The three of us want to put together a marriage and family seminar that is culturally applicable to Congolese life using biblical principles, not merely applying western ideals. It will start with pastors and their wives. Much preparation and prayer will go into this. To teach unconditional love in such a violent and unsettled country is, indeed, a challenge of enormous proportions! Please pray with us and for us! It feels like a pebble thrown into an ocean of difficulty. Yet we know God can produce food for thousands with only a few fish!

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An Extraordinary Mission Opportunity

As many of you know, Ray and I plan to return to the Congo every year for a minimum of six months and for as many years as we are physically and emotionally able. We hope for many! To be sure, it is not an easy life. But we feel God’s blessing on this mission opportunity and know it is right for us at this time.

The Plan

Presently, we live with Brenda, our mission field coordinator. It is an old Belgian cement-over-brick house that Ray is actively attempting to keep running for all three of us. We have a small bedroom, certainly adequate for sleeping, but share the other rooms. From the beginning, both Brenda and we thought we’d divide the house into two, thus enabling each of us to have our own kitchen, living room, bedroom, and sanctuary. We had thought we’d get plans drawn up and cost estimates this first time here, then come back in the fall with (hopefully) money to get it done.  

However, in the process of that, we discovered the cost of cement, sand, bricks, rerod, etc., has now plummeted to half of what it is usually. Add to that, the engineer and crew we have been advised to use are between jobs and can start right away!  If ever there is a time to build, it is now!

The Why

Why do we want to do this instead of looking for another place to rent? The reasons are many. To start with, our rent is just $250 a month and we share all workers’ salaries and utility costs with Brenda. Land is scarce and very expensive, rent prices have skyrocketed, apartments may be available on third, fourth or fifth floors, but elevators are nonexistent and safety is more than questionable.  We would have to pay many times more a month to rent a small house, then hire our own workers and pay their salaries (night and day watchmen) and all utilities ourselves. This house has an unusually large yard, is close to the border of Rwanda, and has high brick walls all around so we are relatively safe at night. Plus, we three are together should a problem arise. (We have emergency money set aside in case an evacuation is necessary. This is Congo; those considerations are necessary.) Even with this building project, our rent will not go up. This is truly the most cost-effective solution!

As an added bonus, we’ve come up with a plan to dig out the lower level a bit more in the back. Because we are on the side of a mountain, the back slopes dramatically, so we can have a walkout.  Then Ray can have a much-needed workshop and we can have a guest room for when people come to do short-term work projects.)  So we have this enormous and immediate opportunity to build/change this house NOW. For that, we really need financial help!

Our visas are up at the end of April, which means we cannot stay one day longer. In turn, that means the outside walls, roof, and so on must be completed before then. The inside will be finished in the fall when we return. The engineer assures us it can be done, and his crew is working six days a week to ensure it.

We are so sure this is God’s plan for us that we made the decision to start immediately, believing that donations will come.  Demolition, footings, and foundation have begun!

The Means

The entire project will include two levels. The main floor will be 775 square feet and include a kitchen, eating area, small living room, bedroom, and bathroom with shower. The lower level will house Ray’s workshop and small guest room with a two-piece bathroom. The cost is approximately $20,000.  We were amazed and overjoyed at the estimate!  Thus, we are looking to raise the funds ASAP.  

The Opportunity

Perhaps you’d like to help? Donate a one-time gift? Or a monthly gift if you feel led. Spread the word by sharing this post?

Please pray with us and for us as opportunities and open doors, some in areas least expected, stand before us. Watch for coming articles on the needs and the work that is beginning) We have great appreciation for those of you who support us in different ways! May God, who is a blessing God, bless you richly!

We are a tax-deductible, licensed nonprofit LLC. For information on how to donate, please visit our Donate page.

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Christmas Came Early This Year

December 12 was our planned Christmas celebration with staff, team members, and friends, twenty people in all for dinner, the celebration of Jesus’ birth, and surprises. It was with great anticipation and joy that Brenda and I scurried around putting together cash bonuses in Christmas cards, trying (desperately!) to find enough similar items for the men, different similar items for the women, boxes in which to put all the goodies for each person, then wrapping them with just 1-1/2 rolls of wrapping paper.

But we succeeded! It was with sighs of relief when the boxes were piled under the Christmas tree. Then the fun began. Wrapping took place on Saturday and the party wasn’t until the following Tuesday. Plenty of time for anyone coming into the house to see what no one had ever seen before: wrapped gifts under a Christmas tree!  Yup. It was the first time for all, so there were questions and comments galore. First world Christmas decor and traditions were explained again and again. Creches, stars, snowflakes, doves, even Rudolph and tiny stockings hung on the tree had to be explained, and some understood that the boxes were gifts for them. It was so fun to see their faces, ages 24-68, filled with childlike wonder!

Then came The Turkey, my crazy idea . He arrived, imported from an island up north, on the back of a motorcycle taxi, delivered to Tracy’s Heart, alive and gobbling. He was allowed to roam and fattened up with corn for a few days. On Monday he was delivered in a different state, ready for cooking. Well, sort of. He didn’t fit in our oven, and we didn’t have electricity anyway, so he was cut into many pieces and pressure cooked on a gas hot plate. Every person who wanted to try turkey could have a taste of our Christmas tradition. (As it turned out, they ate every single morsel, even sucking the bones clean and devoid of marrow. )

When the big day arrived, we began by setting the tables. Those who know me know I can’t just set the table with tablecloths and dishes. I have to make it festive to match the holiday. I did not bring any Christmas decor with us (What was I thinking?!), only paper napkins, so I had to be creative with what is here. No problem. Branches and green leaves of various kinds, Moringa pods symbolizing a blessed life, all from our bountiful yard, plus a string of tiny lights found here, and a few lemons from the kitchen.  JP, a treasured staff member, caught on to the idea, and added papayas and avocados plucked from trees in the backyard. I found a couple of small candles of Brenda’s but had no candle cups to put them in. I used the caps from my salt and pepper grinders and voila! The table glowed with the sparkle of Christmas.

The guests arrived, the table was full, the anticipation was almost palpable. Brenda opened the celebration with prayer and Ray led the devotion. He surprised us all by giving it entirely in Swahili, reminding us of God’s magnificent plan and purpose for mankind. It was profound and ministered joy to all.

But then our supposed plan of action changed. Ray and I, Brenda and Cathy (our short-term nurse who is also my cousin) were asked to stand by the tree. From there the whispering we had heard days before suddenly took shape as our workers came forward to present us with flowers (so abundant in our yard), make speeches of thanksgiving to God for us, their jobs, their joy in  serving a good God, His answers to their prayers in bringing more missionaries to help with the work, and gifts! Wrapped gifts! In boxes! (Trust me, boxes and gift wrap are nearly impossible to come by here!)

The ladies received lovely dresses with bling, Ray a dress shirt, and we were told we could not eat until we tried them all on. Of course, we obeyed. The lovely result can be seen in the photos. Chantal, who had done the shopping, had even taken notice of our favorite colors. Suffice it to say that the surprises we had planned did NOT include us being surprised! We were deeply touched and yes, emotional. These are not people who have money to spare, yet they all contributed money to give us gifts! It was a deeply humbling experience and precious far beyond words, even for me. They said they did not want us to forget them, and I assured them through my tears that we never could.

So we served the meal: carrots, potatoes, onions, and cabbage over rice with turkey gravy and hunks of turkey, bone-in, the ever-present Cokes, followed by sugared peanuts, and thick slices of freshly made banana bread, their favorite. (Brenda makes the best!)

It was a joyous meal . . . and then came their gifts. Like children, some opened them slowly, savoring every moment, while others tore into theirs with gusto. One by one they went through everything in their boxes, asking questions about this and that. Having been advised of what to bring, each box contained deodorant*, a toothbrush*, and toothpaste*. The men also received bar soap*, two pairs of socks, and two kinds of work gloves. The women received fragrant lotion and body wash*, a headscarf, and jewelry. The word flabbergasted is a fitting one to describe their reactions. Then cash bonuses were handed out in unsigned cards, the envelopes unlicked, for them to reuse. Brenda came last with a large comforter for each person. (She had been collecting and bringing a few at a time for a while until she  finally had enough) Joyous exclamations filled the room, and arms were raised in thanksgiving. It was a sight to behold, common things we take for granted bringing such exuberant pleasure! We ended with more prayer, as our hearts were so full.

Days later,  everyone was still talking about “the best Christmas we ever had!” and that this year, Christmas came early.

*If you gave some of these items to us to bring–you know who you are—we THANK YOU! You were a greater blessing than you can imagine.

And to you and yours we say, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!