A Life Transformed

Our family sold all we had and moved to Africa to pursue a vision not to just help the people, not to give them what they need, but to transform their lives. We are doing this through the work of our company, The Sunshine Nut Company, which is built upon the principles of The Sunshine Approach, a business model that is radical about giving back and transforming lives. As with most ventures in our lives, we never really know at the start exactly what it will look like later on. We envisioned what we would do and how it would look, but circumstances led us down a different path- one that is even better than what we had imagined. We have seen lives changed for the better with our employees, with the children at the orphanages around us that we support, in the villages where we buy our cashews, and in the lives of the people we have gotten to know in the communities around us.

We happened upon the lives of Cecilia, Madelena, and Antonio thanks to one of our employees. Their father died in a tragic car accident, their mother committed suicide, their stepfather felt no obligation to them and left,  and their landlord abandoned them to the street.  In February of 2014 we were introduced to three very sad little faces with sad little hearts to match. This was when we moved into action. Thanks to the donations of friends in America, we were able to purchase a home for them. With funds from our company and donations from friends and ministries, we renovated the home and filled it with all they would require to live, including a woman to care for them. They moved in at the end of November 2014.

We were able to provide them with the physical surroundings they needed to thrive, and our recently formed charity provides them with their monthly needs. We even gave them an “auntie” to care for them. But we knew it would take time, love, and consistent effort to heal their hearts.

Thirteen year old Cecilia adjusted quickly. She is a fighter. She is determined to make the most of her life. She jumped right into the cleaning of the house and in helping with the preparation of food and the care of her two younger siblings. Antonio appeared to be too young to have suffered much from what happened. He has been easy going, loving, and happy from the start. Madelena, however, was a completely different story.

Madelena was a very troubled girl, and rightfully so. She had experienced an amount of pain, loss and abandonment through which very few people will ever have to suffer. She was distant. Her eyes were dark and troubled. She rarely made eye contact and to hear her speak was an even more rare event. When she did speak, it was so quiet that you could barely hear her. When we took photographs of the family, we could not get a smile out of her, no matter how hard we tried. Even at Christmas when they were showered with goodies and presents, she gave no hint of joy.

She also went through a difficult time period with her caretaker as well- acting out her frustration by speaking disrespectfully to her, disobeying her, and even throwing rocks at her. Yet we all continued to love her and believe in her. In time, she began to improve. The first sign of progress I saw was when I arrived at the house one day and  she did not have to be called to come and greet me. She came of her own accord, meeting me at the car and taking my hand as we walked to the house. I was walking on air! My subsequent arrivals at the house were met by Madelena greeting me with a vocal, “Hola Mama Terri. Como esta?” I did not even have to bend over and put my ear to her mouth to hear it.

Our patient efforts received the ultimate reward on June 1^st, Children’s Day here in Mozambique. I took over presents for the children and food for a celebration meal that night. Madelena was beaming. Her caretaker and I were so thrilled to see her smiling for the camera. We took picture after picture of her- rejoicing with each one. This day was a milestone for all of us. I couldn’t wait to get home and send off one of the photos to Papa Don, who was away on business at the time. I knew he would be as happy as I was. It is moments like these that reward us more than any paycheck ever could. A forever difference has been made in the life of a child. With love, her heart is being healed one day at a time.

All in a Day's Work

Our company is all about making a difference in the lives of the poor and orphaned in Mozambique. Making a difference is not just about giving money or jobs to others. It is about investing in their lives. A major reason why our efforts are making such a difference is because we live here. We went to Mozambique believing that we would do good by giving back 90% of our net proceeds and providing jobs. What we have learned is that we are also doing good by simply being there for the people when they are in need. Here is an example of how we are doing this.

I stopped in at the Matola-Rio children’s center the other day to check on the playground that was being built to entertain the 46 children who live there. I was having one of those days where everything took longer than you thought it would. One of those days where you looked at your watch and were dumbfounded by how much time had passed and how little you had accomplished. I had meant to make it out to the center in the early morning hours but to my dismay, I pulled in at 1:00 in the afternoon. I still had other people and items to check in on and my own grocery shopping to do as well, but I wasn't too worried as I had a few hours yet  to get my list of “to do’s” taken care of.

As usual, I was greeted by a mass of children. I go there to fill their little emotional tanks up, but in reality, they fill mine! I feel like a rock star as I pull in to the sound of them chanting my name and swarming my car. I open my door and am literally pulled from my car. Then I am hugged and hugged and hugged and hugged… Once I was able to come up for air, I was approached by Corrie, the director. She asked me with an apprehensive look on her face if I had any plans that afternoon. I already find it difficult to tell people “No” when they ask for a favor. Telling a woman like this who is a living saint caring for 46 children and a church and a preschool and countless community members that you are too busy to help is impossible. So I responded, “No.  Nothing at all. What do you need?”

The mother of two center children, 17 year old Beatiz and  9 year old Americo, needed help moving to a new house. She lived out in Jonasse, a village way, way out. Her landlord had kicked her out of her home and she had no where to go. Corrie was going to help her by paying her rent for a room in a house located just behind the center. She needed someone to take her to collect her things and bring them to this house.

I will be honest and real enough to openly admit that inside I groaned to myself (as I smiled on the outside). I have lived in Mozambique long enough to know that this would not be a small task. Nothing in Mozambique ever is. What takes 15 minutes to accomplish in America takes two hours in Mozambique. A simple moving job like this in America would take one hour to pop over, load in the possessions, and drive them back again. Here in Mozambique, it would take 3 hours, if I was lucky. In my head, I quickly made a check of what I had yet to accomplish and crossed every item but one off the list. If all I accomplished today would be going to the grocery store to do my food shop, then the day would not be a total waste.

 The mother, Caroline, is a sweet woman whose son, Americo, is one of my favorites at the center. He is a good boy. A truly good boy. He likes to give long hugs. The other kids like to squeeze you hard and see you squirm, and sometimes literally writhe in pain. Americo's hugs are different. He gently envelopes you with his arms and holds on. I let him hold on as long as he needs to, always making sure that I do not release my hold on him until he releases his hold on me. He is the kind of boy you want to wrap up and take home with you. Moving Caroline would help my little Americo by bringing her closer in proximity to her. I looked at Corrie and said, “No problem. Is she all packed and ready to go?” This in itself is an invalid question in Mozambique. No one is ever “ready to go” anywhere. But of course Corrie said she was, knowing full well that she probably wasn’t. But this is how it works here!

As we headed to my car, Karen, the woman directing the work on the playground, came over and offered the use of her pick-up truck. She offered to drive as well. A pick-up can hold much more than we would ever fit into my car, so we took her up on her generous offer and piled in.  We took along Paulo, a worker at the center, so we could have some man-muscle. I also discovered that Caroline has another child…a little boy named Luciano, about 5 years old. He leaped into the back seat of the truck, tucking himself in between his mother and Paulo. We headed off down the dirt road toward Jonasse.

Luciano soon became the bright spot in my day. It was a hot, sunny, end of summer day. The inside of the truck was quite hot and the AC was not working all that well. From time to time, I would glance back to Luciano in the middle of the back seat. He was sitting up straight and tall with a perma-grin etched on his face from one ear to the other. It was clear that he had had very few rides in a car before. He was delighted to be enjoying this privilege today.  In minutes, we were all dripping with sweat from the heat in the car and feeling very thirsty. Dry dust from the road that was being churned up filled our noses making it uncomfortable to even breathe. Karen, being the kind-hearted, giving person she is, offered to stop at a little baraka (our bush version of a convenience store) and buy us some cool drinks before we all withered up. We stopped at the first one along our way and got waters and Cokes. Luciano, being a typical Mozambican boy, chose orange Fanta- they always go for Fanta. His day now was off the charts…to be riding along in a truck and drinking a Fanta was the mountain-top experience of his little life.

It took us about 30 minutes to get to Caroline’s house. As I said, it was way, way out. She had no water and no electricity. It was a simple cement block box. Her front door was a piece of wood that she put over the opening at night. There was no glass in the only window. Instead it was covered by a piece of material called a capulana. The women wear capulanas as a skirt and use them for a million other things as well. We began hauling out her possessions. Each item we carried out was fit for the garbage dump. Each item was old and used beyond its lifetime, dirty, smelly, tattered, and broken. I did my best to be gracious and hold back my disdain at having to touch and carry these items out. I was saddened to know that this was all she had. We carried out two mattresses that reeked and were ripped, the coconut hair that filled them spilling out as we carried them. There was a large plastic barrel used to collect rain water. Blankets and the few clothes they owned were tied up in capulanas because they do not own any suitcases. Farming tools such as a machete and hoe were loaded in. A black skillet that was completely encrusted in an inch of built up, baked on soot was brought out. Item after item was loaded into the back of Karen’s truck.

Half way through this process, I noticed that Luciano had not gotten out of the truck yet. He was so excited to be in the truck that he didn’t want to leave it. The doors were shut and the windows were up to keep the dust and dirt out. It was dangerously hot in there. Yet he sat in the back seat, his perma-grin never leaving his face, holding his Fanta, with sweat rolling down the sides of his dear face, refusing to get out. All of our attempts to get him out of the truck were futile until as we were finishing up, his mother called to him to go into the house and get his toys. This request was immediately obeyed. The door was flung open and he ran down the dirt path and into the house. I was standing off to the side when he emerged again. The site of him running back down that dirt path will forever be etched into my memory. It was a priceless moment that is hard to put into words. It was a moment that humbled me and made me think about what is and is not important in my life as I watched him cradle his belongings with such joy and pride. He ran down the path wearing a shiny gold New Year's Eve top hat and carrying two plastic cars with no wheels, a plastic airplane that was in two pieces, a rubber lizard, and a metal bicycle tire rim. I joined him and helped him load his treasures into the back of the truck. The last of our cargo was loaded and it was time to head out.

Caroline and Luciano did not even take a last glance back at their home. Their eyes were fixed on the road ahead and the new home they would now occupy. During the entire ride back, Luciano did not break his smile for even a second. He did keep glancing periodically over his shoulder to make sure his toys were still where we had placed them in back. Another bumpy and swelteringly hot 30 minute drive brought us back to the center. We drove around the back to where they would now be living. There was a line of newly constructed, small cement rooms with metal doors and windows. Each room was no larger than the small bedroom our youngest son William once occupied in America. One of these rooms would be their entire living space. Karen went back to her playground responsibilities and Paulo went back to his duties, so I enlisted the help of one of the teenage boys, Hypolito, from the center to help us unload. We were also joined by 4 of the little boys from the center who wanted to help as well.  One by one, each possession was unloaded off the truck and into their new room. The last thing we were able to reach was Luciano’s toys. He put his glitzy top hat back on his head and went inside to place the toys in his new home. The little center boys who were helping out were eyeing them up with great interest. As broken as these toys were, they were more than what they had. Luciano was kind enough to let them look at each toy and play a little. Again and again, I am taken aback by the selflessness of the Mozambican children. They do not have a mine-versus-yours attitude. They have nothing by our standards. Yet they do not ever hesitate to share their “nothing” with others.

Three hours had now passed. It was 4:30 in the afternoon. Before driving off, I took a minute to look at myself. I was drenched in sweat and covered with dirt. My feet were black. My day had been totally interrupted, but I was no longer feeling frustrated about it. I had put my needs aside to add another Mozambican adventure to my life and was so glad I had taken the time to do this. I pulled away and crossed the last thing off my list for the day. The grocery store would have to wait.  

The Great Wall of Matola Santos

The Great Wall of China was built 2,000 years ago. It took centuries of time to construct. It is estimated that 300,000 soldiers and 500,000 common people labored on this wall, many of whom died during its construction and were buried inside. It is 6,000 kilometers long and it once took a man 2 years to trek the wall from start to finish. It is so immense that you can see it from space.  It is an amazing feat indeed.

We have just completed a wall in Matola Santos. It was built just this past month. It took only 4 weeks to complete with a total of 10 Sunshine Nut Company employees. No one died in the construction of our wall, thank goodness! It is about 30 meters long and you can walk its expanse in a few minutes…well maybe one minute. You cannot see our wall from outer space. No… we did not build a wall as great as the one in China, but for us, it was just as amazing of a feat!

Why was it amazing? Because it was built as a gesture of love to provide security and safety for the family that occupies the first Sunshine House- Cecilia, Madelena, Antonio, and their caretaker, Zelda. Our little family has lived together in their new home for 3 months now. They are learning how to make a life together. Yet their home had no security wall around it, thereby exposing them to robbers, people passing through and using their outside bathroom, men sitting on the stoop along the side facing the road and drinking until 3 in the morning, and simply helping Zelda to keep the little ones, Madelena and Antonio, in the yard and safe while playing.

It is also amazing because of the hearts of the people who labored to complete this wall. We had about 10 of our Sunshine Nut Company employees work over the course of this project. Yet 5 of them  labored tirelessly missing not a single day of work. This in itself was no small feat.  It is summer here in sub-saharan Africa right now. For us in Matola, Mozambique, this means day time temperatures in the 90s to 100 F with a heat index that has been as high as 115 F many times this past month. In fact, it was so hot, that one day I left my gloves out on the pile of sand while I did other things. When I went back later to fetch them to use, the rubber side of my gloves had melted! Laboring under the sun with no shade for four weeks, day in and day out takes determination and stamina. Alberto, Arnaldo, Juliao, Maria, and Aida (along with a worker from the community named Joao) never faltered or complained. In fact, they spent the hours working with discussions on everything from food to the new president of Mozambique to who is older- a man who has more years or a man who has more children- to what the correct word is for “shoelace” in Portuguese (literally a whole morning was spend on that topic! It finally ended after Juliao called his pastor to get the final verdict on the word.)

Each day our company provided a nice breakfast and lunch for them. We ate lunch under the shade of a half dead tree, sitting on cement blocks. I joined them and listened as they carried on their conversations, trying to decipher what they were talking about. They use a mix of Portuguese and Shongana. This mix makes it quite a challenge for me.  It was a brief respite from their labor, but they rested and went right back out into the sun again for their final two hours before we quit for the day at 3pm. Our treat each day was a cool Frozy (soft drinks) purchased from the little baraka (store) across the street, owned and operated by Dona Alzira.

We also had the help of various people around us. Of course the first few days as we dug the foundation for the wall, every passerby stopped to give their input on where the wall should go and how deep we should dig the foundation. Even the Cheffe do Quaterao (the local governmental leader) stopped by. At first he wanted the wall on the street side in an even line with the wall of the house across from us. But when we showed him that this would mean putting the wall through the middle of the house, he saw this would not work. Then just to have a say in the matter, he asked us to move it in 10 centimeters. We honored his request and moved it in.

And there was Pedro. He is a local man whose right hand is disabled. He makes a living by collecting people’s garbage each day and taking it to the local dump in his wheelbarrow. He helped us by fetching water for us. We do have the house hooked up for water, but most days the pipes are dry. Here cement is made and mixed by hand- bags of cement are mixed in with sand, rock and water. You cannot make cement if you do not have water.  Without Pedro, we would have been in quite a bind.

Speaking of water, Dona Alzira, the neighbor across the street who sold us our Frozy drinks each

day, was a godsend. Out of the 20 days we were there working on the wall, we probably only had water flowing from our tap about 5 of those days, maybe even less. Dona Alzira permitted us to fill container after container of water from her tap. We would never have been able to complete this project without her generosity.  I still am not sure why she always has water when she just lives across the street from us. TIA- This is Africa! It is full of unexplainable mysteries.

And we owe thanks to our dear 13 year old Cecilia. Each day she went out and bought eggs and bread for the breakfast. She fried up the eggs and heated the water for the tea that our workers enjoyed each morning.  She then cleaned up all the dishes as well before heading off to school. She is a treasure.

Finally, this wall would never have been built without the financial donations of family and friends to our new 501C3 that was formed in this past month named The Sunshine Approach Foundation. Your generosity is making a difference in the lives of others. 

So now our family is secure- playing safely during the day and sleeping soundly at night. As for the guys who sat outside drinking beer each night…I guess they have had to move on to a different hang out.  

It takes so little....

We spend our lives looking for our purpose. Looking for our destiny. Our calling. We look for that one big thing that will fulfill us and confirm to us that our lives have meaning. We seek and we wait. We wonder and we wait. But is it just that one big thing that awaits us? Or is it the little opportunities that come our way each day that hold the greater significance?  I believe they are.

Nyara covering her eyes.

You all know our story. We are the crazy American family who sold everything and left all behind to come to Africa to develop a vision. That is a pretty big thing. But what brings my husband and me the most joy are the little things we encounter each day. This is what brings us that deep feeling of satisfaction and fulfillment in our lives. In the simple acts, we are finding our purpose and calling.

Meet my new friend, Nyara.

She is so very beautiful. She lives in the impoverished community of Matola Santos in a little cement block home. I met her while we were down two houses down working on the home for the 3 orphaned children we are supporting. I would watch her as she went up and down the dirt road playing with friends, and she captured my heart. Maybe it was pity that grabbed me first. It was hard for her to fully play and enjoy these moments of fun with her friends because she was always shielding her eyes from the sun. She always kept her forearm up over her forehead to block the sun. Being Albino, her eyes are extremely sensitive to the light. I have always striven to ensure that every child I see is able to experience life to the fullest. I made up my mind then and there to get her proper sunglasses and a big floppy sun hat.

Nyara with her "Hello Kitty" sunglasses and blue hat

Yet where oh where in the land of Mozambique would these be found?? They wouldn’t. So I took my quest to America. You would think that children’s sunglasses and beach hats would be easy to find in stores in the month of August. Not! Despite the fact that there was still one month of summer left to enjoy, all I could find were winter clothes already out for sale. Summer items were few and far between. So I searched every children’s store in every town I went to from Philadelphia to New York to Boston. I was about to give up when the mall in my parents’ hometown rewarded me big time. I found “Hello Kitty” sunglasses and added a pink headband to them so they would stay on securely. I found a floppy washable hat with ocean animals on it for when she plays. I found a big blue woven floppy hat with lots of ventilation for those hot days of December, January, February, March,… And finally I found a beautiful white hat with a pink flower adorning it for church and good days. Best yet…they were all on clearance! I couldn’t wait to bring these back for her!

My first trip back to Matola Santos rewarded me with little Nyara walking down the road towards me, forearm over her forehand, squinting to see. I sprinted to the car to retrieve the bag of goodies. It was like Christmas for me to pull each one out and present it to her… first the sunglasses and the headband, then the play hat, the blue hat, and finally delighting her beyond measure with the

beautiful girly white hat. We were both grinning from ear to ear. She looked so pretty. She looked so happy. She now could play and run and enjoy her friends. And all it took was about $20 and a little of my time to search these items out.

Such a beautiful princess!

I am learning that we are presented with many opportunities each day to pour into the lives of others. We don’t have to sell everything and move to Africa to make a difference (or for those of you in Africa reading this…you don’t have to sell everything and move to the mission field of America!). We can find fulfillment and satisfaction in our daily lives with simple acts of kindness. These are just as, if not more, rewarding than that one big thing. So I encourage you to stop waiting, stop seeking, and start doing. Your destiny is right in front of you - fulfill it!

And then there were two.....

Today is Election Day in Mozambique. This means that everything is closed today- all businesses and all schools. This allows the citizens the opportunity to go out and vote and the ex-pats the opportunity to stay safely tucked away in their homes in case any unrest occurs. Don and I wanted to make this day of seclusion in our home a special vacation day for us, so we planned a day of rest and good eating. For us, this would mean sleeping in and starting off with champagne mimosas and Eggs Benedict. The sleeping in part was easy- no problems there. Yet as we sat down to eat our Eggs Benedict, we both began to cry. It was not the same without William here. Who would we give the extra sauce to? Who would eat my second one when I could not eat both? We could not take our first bite!

While my husband has awaited this season of our lives for a decade, and while I am happy to have this time to devote solely to him, I have to admit that I was dreading having our family nest empty. I don’t doubt that part of my dread is a result of encountering an empty nest years earlier than I ever expected to do so.

We took Will back to America to complete his last two years of high school at Delaware County Christian School. As many of you know, this is the same school I taught at for five years, Cassie and Brent both graduated from DCCS, and Will has been a student there since second grade. For Will, this transition has been a good one. It is like going home for him. All of his friends are there, he is playing soccer again, he is living with the most amazing host family in the universe (Shout out to the Georges!), he is playing guitar and joining the worship bands at school and church, he is in a brick and mortar school (Peer pressure can be a good thing too!), and he is thriving. Best of all, he has not forgotten us. He calls most days after school on his way to soccer practice, and he has requested to come back to Mozambique for his summer vacation as well as a gap year before he heads off to university.

I am so very proud of Will for having been such a sport about living here with us in Mozambique. Cassie and Brent had the option of staying in America when we made this major life change. Will did not have a choice. While he did at times remind us of this, he never complained about all he had to deal with here. He stuck out a lot of difficult situations- a new language, a new culture, being different than 99.9% of the people around him (doesn’t make it easy to blend), being away from family and friends, losing his beloved dog Bailey who could not come with us, a new school and later adjusting to home schooling via an online school, as well as some extremely challenging situations like having our house broken into and robbed while we were away and then being the first person to have an AK47 shoved in his chest when two robbers invaded our property. He did not have many friends here. His only friend was his South African buddy Luc, for whom we are very grateful for his friendship. All that he experienced here has created the young man he is today. He has a whole different world view than his peers, and we trust that God will use this greatly in his future.

I remember how hard it was to let our first child go. When we took Cassie and left her at Gordon College, it felt like someone had died. There was a huge hole in my life. I prayed and prayed for God to fill this hole. Yet He responded that He could not do this. I would have to learn to live my daily life without her in it. I clung to the words shared with me by a colleague at my school…that at the end of the four years of university, I would be closer to my daughter than I was before. She was right. Despite the distance between us, our relationship was strengthened as she matured into the young woman I always prayed she would become.

I also had to give up my Brent earlier than I expected. He was just about to start his senior year of high school when we moved to Mozambique. We gave him the choice of staying behind to complete his senior year at DCCS or to come with us. While he wanted to stay with his friends and attend DCCS, he felt an obligation to come with his family to Mozambique. We arranged for him to complete his senior year online in partnership with DCCS. He would still be able to return for his senior prom, his senior class trip, and to graduate with his friends. In February, we sat in the headmaster’s office finalizing these plans and when I looked over at him, he looked like a frightened deer in headlights. I could tell something was up. When we got home he said he did not know if he could do this. He needed more time to decide. He came to us shortly after that and said he wanted to stay in the US for his senior year. It felt like someone stabbed me in my heart and twisted the knife. I was so unprepared to let him go. Over the course of the next few weeks, I threw a bit of an emotional temper tantrum with God…wasn’t I already giving up enough in moving to Mozambique? Did I also have to give up my son too? I did not know if I could do this. One night while Don was off in Mozambique and I was home alone with my boys, I was at the kitchen table doing my school work. Brent came up from the basement, pulled me to my feet, looked down into my eyes and said, “It will be okay, Mom.” As I looked up into his eyes, I could see a confidence, maturity and contentment that I had never before seen in him. I knew he was right…it would be okay. He gave me the longest, best ever hug to reassure me. And it was alright…he grew immeasurably during his senior year. I then had my year of loss restored to me when he came to spend a gap year here in Mozambique with us. He left Mozambique a transformed young man…ready for university and knowing what he wanted out of life.

So now there are just two of us, unless you count Harmony. Ha! Not! 

I was dreading the day I would have to say goodbye to William at the Philadelphia airport and would head back to Mozambique. He does not know this, but for days before I left, I sat alongside him as he slept in his bed and covered him with all the prayers a mother can pray. Even that morning, I did the same. At the airport, he helped me out with my suitcases and stood by me while I checked them in at the curbside. All that was left then was to hug and say goodbye. I moved this along as I knew if I dwelled on it, I would not be able to go. I headed in and was just about to continue up the escalator when I realized the attendant had not given me my passport back. So I had to go back outside to get it, or I really would be going nowhere. As I was heading out, he was heading in to give me one more hug. So sweet and considerate. I got my passport and made my way up the escalator waving to him until he was out of my sight. Then it became a challenge of walking it out, one step at a time, to my gate, onto the plane, to my seat, and taking off leaving America behind. My first stop on my way home was Amsterdam. Don was waiting there for me and we would spend five days together before heading back. I got off the plane, collected my suitcases and made my way out. He was there waiting for me with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. As soon as he wrapped his arms around me, I melted and cried. I was hoping the worst was behind me. I have learned from experience these past few years that the anticipation of the goodbye is much worse than the actual part of doing it. 

We had a wonderful time in Holland before we returned to Mozambique.  I have always been ready and excited to return to my life here. But this time I did not feel the same anticipation. I would be entering into a new season of life and I just could not picture what it would look like now. I have been back here exactly two weeks as of today. It has not been easy. The first few days were tough. Moments like walking past his room and seeing the empty desk where he used to spend most of his time would make me cry. Other times, for no reason at all, I would sense his absence and fill with tears. And there was the time when I found a guitar pick out in the living room that he had left behind. There have been moments like today, when we had our first “whatever without him” like going to Mimmo’s for pizza, food shopping, or eating Eggs Benedict. Yet as I have done with so many other things that I have had to sacrifice, I will press on and trust in what God is doing in all of our lives. I have absolutely no doubts that this is what is best for William, and for Brent, and for Cassie. If it is what is best for them, then it is best for me. We used to be five…and now there are two…”It is well with my soul.”  

Desensitization.....I am beginning to think it's impossible. What about you?

"In psychology, desensitization is defined as the diminished emotional responsiveness to a negative or aversive stimulus after repeated exposure to it."  This is how Wikipedia defines desensitization. I believe that this emotional response has been my biggest fear since coming to live in Mozambique. It has been proven that when a person is continually presented with adverse situations, they respond with less and less intensity each time they encounter it. I was so afraid that my constant daily exposure to the poverty and struggle I see here every time I leave my house would desensitize me to it. Not that I would ever stop caring. But that I might begin to not hurt so much for these people that I have grown to love immensely. I am “happy” to report that I daily do have my heart broken by at least one sight or another. But sadly, I must admit that I do not cry as much as I used to. For example, when I first came, every time I left the children’s center, tears would blind me as I headed down that bumpy dirt road back to my home. I could hardly drive! I no longer cry when I leave. This just may be their fault though. How can one be sad when there behind you in the rearview mirror are a dozen kids smiling and laughing as they chase you down the road screaming your name over and over. Yet yesterday I came face to face with, or should I say face to three little precious faces, that left me weeping. I believe their faces will leave you weeping as well. This is their story.

As my faithful blog readers already know, Berta, the woman who works in our home, has a project for 39 children in her community. She saw the needs of the children and was moved to help them. She opened up her home to these children for the half-day when they are not in school. So half of the children come in the morning and half in the afternoon. We all naturally feel badly for orphans in orphanages. But the children we need to worry about are the ones who are still living out in the communities. The children in the orphanages know they will receive three meals a day, a bed to sleep in, a uniform and books so they can go to school, medical care, shoes, and clothing. The children in the communities have no guarantee of anything…ever. Many children have lost one or both parents and have been taken in by an elderly grandparent who no longer works. These grandparents have no income and therefore no means to provide for their grandchildren. Other children are forced to live in abusive homes when one parent dies and the surviving parent remarries. In such cases, most stepparents do not want the children of the former spouse in the home so the children are neglected, abused, and most often abandoned. These are the children Berta helps. She teaches them skills like basket weaving and how to make jewelry or brooms. She gives them bread and tea in the morning and soup for lunch. She teaches them cultural songs and dances. She reads them Bible stories and encourages them to memorize Scripture. Berta takes in 39 children each day, but she could easily take in 390 more…the need is so great. Berta knows her limitations and she keep her number to strictly 39.

About two weeks ago, Berta shared a sad story with me about three children that she had just discovered. Their ages are 12, 6, and 4. Their father died and their mother remarried. The mother got pregnant to the new husband. He told her he did not want this baby and was going to force her to abort the baby. On January 21^st of this year, she gave the oldest girl money and told her to take her brother and sister with her to go buy some things at the market. While they were gone, she locked herself in her bedroom and in despair, this mother took her life by hanging herself with a cord in their home. The children came home to an empty house. At first they thought she had gone out for something, so they carried on with their day, waiting for her to return. As hours passed, they became concerned and tried phoning her, but they got no answer. After more waiting, they decided to break down the bedroom door. They did this, and these little children were the ones to first to discover their mother hanging in her room. After her death, the stepfather left, feeling no responsibility whatsoever for his dead wife’s three children. He completely abandoned them. The owner of their house told the children they had to leave because they could not pay rent. The children were taken in by an uncle who already has 9 children of his own to care for. He is not able to provide them with much food and has no money to give them for school uniforms, fees, books and supplies. He is only able to provide them with a safe place to sleep at night.

I listened as Berta shared this story. I saw the pain in her face because she could not help them. She can barely survive herself. My heart was broken for these children. But in all honesty, they were unknown to me…they were just another sad story…another of the many sad stories I hear each day. Like we all do after seeing a commercial on TV about starving children in Africa, I moved on with my day. I did think about them and I would ask Berta about them and how they were doing, but that was all. I had other troublesome issues to deal with already. Until…

Yesterday I took a friend to Berta’s project. My friend is a lovely generous person who gives selflessly to others. She has been wanting for some time to see Berta in action. We arrived at Berta’s and were treated to lots of smiling faces, a song and dance performance, and a tour of Berta’s little home converted to a center (with me now translating for my friend- my Portuguese is coming along!) The children present at the time were the younger group. They go to school in the morning. The older children go in the afternoon. I did notice one beautiful young girl with gorgeous long braids wearing a secondary school uniform. I found it odd to see her there at this time of day but did not think much of it. After Berta showed my new friend all around her center, she told us she would like us to meet

someone. She brought over this girl along with a little boy and a little girl. She then asked me to translate their story to my friend. She began retelling the story she had told me just two weeks before. The one I just shared with you. As she began telling it to my friend, big tears began to roll down the older girl’s cheeks. The little boy reached up to be held by his big sister. She complied and he buried his face in her neck. The little girl turned and hid her face against her big sister. I quickly realized that these children did not need to stand by and hear their story told aloud to a stranger. I told Berta that I would just tell it to my friend in English. My friend cried. I cried. Berta cried. And the children continued to cry.  It was heart wrenching to stand with these precious gifts that had been carelessly and thoughtlessly cast aside like they had no value. It is one thing to hear a story. It is another thing entirely to hold the story in your arms and cry with it. My friend did exactly what I know her to do…she immediately asked what she could do to help these children. Berta shared that the oldest girl was 12 and in grade 8. She needed money to buy books for school. Children in Mozambique receive a free public education, but when they advance to grade 8, which is the first year of secondary school here, they must buy their own books and pay fees. This girl had a uniform but she needed 2,400 meticais (about $80 USD) for books- an amount that is close to the average monthly income of people here in Mozambique. The smallest child did not go to school and had no needs, but the six year old did need a book bag and some supplies. My friend had received money from a friend in her home country of Australia to use to help others here. She pulled out the full amount that was needed and passed it on, along with another hug. The young girl now would be able to go buy her books at the markets in Baixa on Saturday and she will be able to start attending classes again on Monday. For the time being, she can continue on. It should have been a very joyful moment, but there was just so much sadness in the air.

We finished out our time at Berta’s and left to go home. The children waved profusely and smiled as we left. But I did see three children standing in the midst of this happy group that were not smiling or waving. They simply watched us go. Since I left, I have not been able to get their faces out of my mind. I have cried every time they come to the forefront of my thoughts. They now can go to school. The oldest girl gets up every morning at 4 am so she can leave the house by 5am to walk 1 ½ hours to arrive at school in time for the 6:30 start. She cannot afford to pay 25 cents to take public transport. These children will need so much more than books and a bookbag to survive. And I can’t stop thinking about the fact that they will never have a mom or a dad to love on them and support them. I wish I could bring you here myself and let you see their faces and hug them. It would make a difference for you. I know, because it made a difference for me.

The problem is that the sad story of these three children is repeated again and again and again here. When my parents recently visited here with me, my dad’s parting words were, “I am going to go home and tell people about what I saw. I am going to show people pictures of what I experienced, but they will not get it. You have to be here to get it.” This is so true. You can’t just read an article, see a statistic, or watch a commercial on TV and understand the suffering people experience. You have to walk it out with them. You have to see their faces. You have to hold them in your arms. You have to wipe their tears, and sometimes their runny noses too. Only then can you begin to know the Father’s heart for them. I recently read that the Bible has over 2,000 references to caring for the widowed, poor, and orphaned.  God has a heart for the poor, so shouldn’t we have one too?

Friday Giveaway

Each day, we can never know what is in store for us; what types of experiences will come our way. How often have you gone out on a regular day and seen something unexpected and wished you had a camera there to capture it? Our cameras are never around when we need them the most. Yesterday I had such an experience in a most unexpected place.

I was asked to take a friend to catch a bus to South Africa. She arrived at my house around 6:30 am so we could go wait in the parking lot for her 7 am departure. Africa being what it is, the bus arrived about an hour late. We waited in my car and passed the time with conversation and people watching. We began to notice more and more elderly people arriving to our right. They sat down on the sidewalk outside in numbers that grew by the minute until about 40 people filled the space.

There is something that I just love about older people. They carry such a dignity to them. They have such a history behind them. They have stories to tell and experiences to share. I especially admire the elderly here in Mozambique. The average life expectancy in this country is 40 years of age. If this were true for us in the US, most of us reading this blog would not be alive right now, and I would not be here writing it either.  People who make it to senior citizen status in Mozambique are revered, as they should be. Imagine the stories these people have to tell! They have lived through their country’s rise to independence from colonialism, they have lived under both communism and democracy, and they have endured a 17 year long civil war followed by severe flooding- both of which ravaged the land. They have experienced all of this hardship as well as their own personal struggles to survive in this third world country.

They were all so content. They came using walking sticks for support. The upper part of these brown sticks were worn smooth and white from years of use.  Some struggled just to step up the curb to get on the sidewalk. Others had no shoes and came barefooted. A woman came leading a blind man who used a white-tipped walking cane. Women carried bundles on their backs, tied up with capulanas. The majority of people by far were women. Only a few men were in this group. They sat and patiently waited, conversing amiably with one another. One older man caught our attention. He had such a friendly face and seemed so gentle and kind. There was something about him that made you want to go up and hug him. Another old man arrived in wearing a blue suit jacket. It was old, worn, and showed the wear of many, many years, but we were touched by his desire to look his best for this outing. The women were all wearing the traditional capulanas. They were a beautiful tapestry of colors and patterns.

Then the gate near them began to open. They stood and made a line. A young Muslim girl wearing a beautifully ornate head dress began to pass out bread. One at a time, they filed by accepting a small roll from her hand.  The young girl did not smile at them or speak to them. Her face was passive as she went through this duty her family had left to her to complete. As the people passed through, they then began to form another line on the opposite side of the door. We later discovered this was to file through a second time for the extras. We marveled at the generosity of this Muslim family, who clearly have done this every Friday for some time. We marveled at the sadness of a people, who would be so desperate for a small piece of bread that they would wake up early and walk who knows how far to sit and wait to receive it. We marveled at the discipline of a people of faith, who so obediently carry out the command we all have received to care for the poor. And it made us question how obedient we are to this same command.

As they filed through, a woman wearing a capulana decorated with bunches of grapes arrived late. I vividly remember her because I intently began to watch to make sure she at least got one roll. The first handouts had already been completed, so she took her place about two-thirds of the way back in the line of people waiting to receive a second roll. I kept my eyes directed on her as person after person received their second roll.  I prayed asking God to make sure that these extras lasted long enough for her to receive a bread. And she did! In fact, she received the very last of the rolls! Thank you Jesus! There is always enough!

After the bread supply was depleted, the people filed off, down the sidewalk, and around the corner. I had already been told that on Fridays, Muslims are required share a portion of their earnings with the poor.  This is why you often see old women begging for money out on the corners at the street lights on Fridays. I don’t know if this is true everywhere, but it is here. Amy told me that the elderly go from place to place on Friday accepting these gifts. A butchery near our old house prepares little bags of meat and passes them out every Friday. Another place passes out vegetables, and another may pass out fruit.

So now I am left with how to process this and what to do about it. I see need here every day. Most times I am overwhelmed by the extent of need there is. It is more than a person could fill in a lifetime, and it can make me feel so small and inadequate. Each day I see people begging, people wearing dirty, tattered clothing and going without shoes, and people just sitting with despair written all over their faces. But then I remember that I serve a big God who owns the cattle on a thousand hills. I remember that Jesus said, “Blessed are the poor, for they shall inherit the kingdom of God.” And I remember that, as Heidi Baker teaches, Jesus died that there would always be enough. And I am blessed by so many of you who have given to the people here, some of you who have not even visited here! I realize that if we all do a little bit…whether it be passing out a small roll to a hungry person, sending money to buy pillows for children to lay their heads on at night, donating shoes,  sacrificing our time and comfort to come and play with orphans or build a church…together we can make a difference. Together we can be the hands and feet of our Father. 

Through our actions we can show His love for His people and let them know He sees and He cares.