I Wish I Could Paint!

I wish I could paint. There are many things here that are so beautiful,
so colorful, and many times so sad, but how can I capture these
moments? I wish I could paint pictures of children pushing pot lids
down the dirt runway, or playing soccer in the sand. Of drums being
played through the night, or kids wrestling in the streets. How can I
paint the cries of women in the village who are heard but never helped,
or children being beaten for not having water boiled in time? I wish I
could help them, but what can I do? I wish I could paint every wrinkle
of an old woman's face, a face which has seen much life, death, joy,
sadness, abuse, love, work and neglect. I look into the eyes of a woman
who has lost her sight, and think of how beautiful it would be for her
to see, or what it will be like when Christ comes and she will also have
her hearing back; what a joyful day that will be...if only I could paint
it. I wish I could paint the dancing flames of a bush fire at night,
how it playfully casts the shadows of children on the trees, or how it
sends little orange sparks into the sky and gives life to the night.
How can I paint a picture of a woman who is nine months pregnant going
out to the fields to work all day, or the man who has done everything he
can to provide for his 14 children, yet they are hungry. How do I paint
starvation and sickness, laughter and tears? A boy who has been crippled
his whole life, but yet is filled with joy and smiles every day. How
can I paint a picture of a man who has lame hands and can't walk well,
but still comes to work to earn money to eat and live? It takes him
hours, but he presses on in the hot African sun. How do I paint
pictures of a corrupt government, or an illiterate culture? How do I
paint pictures of the mangoes growing on the trees, or the dried smelly
fish in the market? I wish I could paint the sounds of laughing and
chanting by the fire, or laying on mats under the stars. How can I
paint a shooting star, or dirt clouds so heavy that you think it will
rain. I wish I could paint the leaves falling off trees in January, or
the sweat that never leaves your body because it's so hot all the time.
There are so many things that I wish I could share in pictures, things
that will help you grow, shake your faith, make you weak. Things that
will make God more real, more alive, and more awesome! I wish I could
paint.

Naomi

I have never met anyone like this woman. Naomi truly has God in her
heart. Her father was Tchadian, but moved to Nigeria and started a
family there. While Naomi was growing up her father told her that he
wanted her to move to Tchad one day to marry and take care of the land
that he owned there, and so 11 years ago she came to this country to
start a new life. Although she spoke many languages from the time she
spent moving around with her father in the army, she didn't know any
languages that would help her here in Tchad. Everyone treated her
different because she looked like them but couldn't communicate, and
didn't know the ways of this country. She went from toilets to bushes,
from stoves and ovens to open fire, and from beds to mats. Her time
adjusting here was hard, but through it she found a husband and now has
4 amazing boys. Through her rough times she praises God for all He does
and never hates anyone. She has so many reasons to be angry, but she
never is. Her husband would beat her for not having the food when he
wanted it, or for not massaging him, and she still praised God. Almost
7 years ago, while she was pregnant with her last son, her husband left
her. A single mother, in Tchad, and with 4 boys is not a combination
for success, but she continued to praise God. She learned local
languages, and worked to provide for her kids, and is an amazing
mother! She's been working with the white people for a few years now,
and she has been such a blessing with translating and spreading God's
love. Because of her work with the white people here, she has been
blessed with many things, but when you visit her house, you would never
see any of it. She is such a caring woman, and when she sees need and
hurt, she helps. If someone gives her clothes, she gives them away, if
someone gives her food, she shares it, if someone helps her with money,
she helps others. Her whole life is about serving others. This last
Sabbath she invited Matthew and I over to her house to eat, and when we
got there, there was a feast set before us! So much food, and she even
went out and bought us expensive meat because she wanted to give us the
best. Wow, someone who doesn't have much, gave so much! It was the
most fun I've had on a Sabbath since I got here! We ate till we
couldn't eat anymore, and then drank juice, and laid on mats singing and
learning different songs, and then after a few hours we were eating
again. I didn't want the day to end. All of us were taking pictures,
laughing, drinking juice, and being a family. Despite everything that
has happened in her life that could make her angry and bitter, she loves
more than anyone I've ever met! She has a heart for all people, and
wants to help them know God better. Her children are loved more than
any other Tchadian child, and love her more than most kids love their
parents. Her oldest son once told her that they didn't need food, only
each other and they were happy. Her family from Nigeria don't come to
visit her, and tell her that she needs to come home because Tchad isn't
a good place to live. While that might be true, she won't leave because
she knows that she is making a difference that no on else can make. She
isn't looking for an easy life, but a full life. A life filled with
God, love, care, and trust in the One who has brought her through
everything. Naomi is my sister, and I praise God that I have been
blessed enough to know such an amazing woman.

Mangoes!!!

I LOVE MANGOES!!!!! I waited for mango season for 7 months and it's
finally here. Before I came to Tchad I didn't even know mangoes grew on
trees...just kidding, I knew that, but I really
didn't know how amazing it is to watch mangoes grow. They start out as
little green dots on all of the trees, and then those dots grow for
months, and get bigger and bigger, and finally weigh down the trees so
much that some branches touch the ground. It's been mango season here
for almost 2 months, and even though they were expensive at first,
they've been down to 5 cents...for 2 mangoes! I eat mangoes everyday,
as many as I want, and I love it. One day I ate 15, and I thought that
was pretty amazing, but the other day I ate 20, and I thought that
was...well, really stupid! Let's just say my stomach didn't thank me,
and since I didn't bleach the mangoes before I ate them I might have
some parasites living in me right now...I'll let you know about that
later. Women here buy over 160 mangoes for only $6. I just want you
all to understand that we are bursting at the seams with mangoes! I'll
walk past people and just tell them to give me a mango, and then they'll
hand me ten. Or kids will come to my hut and give me some of the
mangoes they just got off the trees. For the months of mango season,
this is all some of the people eat, but they're happy and their stomachs
are full. Oh, and because of those unbleached mangoes...I did suffer
for 6 days, but no worries, that's over now. The variety of mangoes
here is so big. Some little, some big, some weird tasting, and some
super awesome tasting ones, all different because they were designed by
the locals differently. The people will take a branch from one mango
tree and graft it onto a different mango tree, and then when the tree is
ready to make baby mangoes they're different than all the rest. I just
ate one the other day that was bigger than both of my fists and smelled
glorious! Well, Matthew said it tasted like fuel, but hey, I really
liked it! We've been blessed for almost 2 months with amazing mangoes,
but the season is almost over. The mangoes are becoming more expensive
again, the kids aren't coming to my house to give me mangoes, and soon
there will by hungry tummies again, but for these months, we have all
been blessed. I praise God for the little things...like millions of
mangoes! I'm so glad that I've been able to take and taste all the
different mangoes, and have been filled completely with the amazingness
of it all. God is waiting to fill each of us with His amazingness too,
but unlike mangoes, there is no season for Him, no right time to call
upon Him. He wants to fill each of us for the rest of our lives, and
trust me, it's way better than mangoes.

Funniest Thing Ever!

Okay, so yesterday I was taking a shower, and this three year old boy
named Sagesse was playing by some huts not too far from me. Well,
there was also this huge brick stack, and since it hid him from his
friends, he decided he was gonna go there to take a poop. Well, I could
totally see him, and when he realized this, he got embarrassed and kept
on playing with his friends...while his pants stayed down by his
ankles. He came back behind the stack of bricks and squatted, but saw
me again and got embarrassed. When the people make bricks here they
dick big holes and use that dirt to make the bricks. So he climbed into
one of those big holes, and disappeared for about five minutes. When he
popped up again I could see the satisfaction on his face as he pulled
himself out of the hole. Well, 5ft from the hole, he stopped and picked
up a plastic bag, pulled down his pants, and wiped his little butt! I
guess he forgot that I was still showering and still could see him. He
dropped the plastic bag, and grabbed a stick, but obviously that didn't
work well, because he went for a piece of bark. None, of those really
did much more than cause some scratches though, so he finally went for
the leaves. I was watching his the whole time, it was hilarious! It
made me think of how hard it is sometimes to get rid of all the junk
that we have in our lives. We try so many things to make us clean, but
there's only One who can wipe away all our dirtiness.

Termites!

So whenever I think of termites, I think of wood eating little insects
that can cause havoc. Well, now that I've been here for 8 months, I see
termites in a whole new light. I didn't know that termites will eat
anything! I'll throw my mango seeds on the ground, and a couple of
hours later I'll come back to termite dirt surrounding the seed. When I
touch it, there's a hollow middle, and no more mango seed. Two Sabbaths
ago, I woke up to the kids at my house taking out big loads of dirt from
my sister's hut. They told me it was termites making a nest in her hut,
but well, I've been here for so long, and I know that termites are in
all huts, so I didn't really think anything of it. Two days later, I
see them doing the same thing. I walked into her hut I just saw this
dirt pile taking form on one wall. It was 1ft tall, 4ft long, and 2ft
wide. it was crazy! As they were taking this mud house apart there
were millions of termites! Some of the bigger ones they were taking and
putting into a pot for later, and the rest they just took outside. But
obviously, taking them outside didn't help, because the next day they
were back with almost the same amount of mud for their house. I think
my family has given up though, so the nest is still there, and there are
still millions of termites. When I walk into the room, and step next to
the nest, I can hear them scurrying from one side of the nest to the
other, almost like a drizzle of rain on a tin roof. In my hut, the
ceiling is wood, grass, and mud, and for the past couple of months I've
heard chewing in my roof. I didn't/couldn't really do anything about
it, and so the chewing continued. I walked into my hut a while back and
saw dirt all over my clothes. I looked on the ground and a almost a
5lbs piece of dirt chillin on my flood. The termites had eaten through
my roof and dirt fell through. Termites also ate a mirror frame of
mine, and some of Matthew's clothes, and some of the missionaries books,
and food, and houses...these things just don't stop, they do more and
more damage, and eat more and more things. I realized this is how it is
in my walk with Christ. There are things that consume me. At first
they don't do much damage, and so I don't do anything about them, but
them one day I find a dirt clod in my heart. I have termite mud as my
faith, and though it's strong on the outside, the inside is hollow. I
don't know what kind if things are eating at you today. Maybe it's your
marriage, family problems, health, stress, school, music, temptations.
Whatever it is, don't let it consume you. Unlike the termites here,
there is a way to get rid of these problems. It will take work,
patience, and faith in God, but He can heal your termite infested heart,
and give you a new heart of flesh. Won't you ask Him?

This Is Why I'm Here

The kids here are so cute! All white people (non black people) are
called Nasara, and whenever I pass people all over will yell
"NASARA!!!". When I first got here it really bothered me...and actually
it still bothers me, but over time the kids have learned my name, and I
can always tell when I'm close to home, because I hear little voices
calling out my name from all directions. Whenever I hear it I get this
feeling of home. I feel appreciated and loved, it's an amazing
feeling. Just this week a little 2 year old boy named Arture was
calling my name. "Dani, Danio, Danio!!! Guba!!!" He was calling me
over to him, but since I was a ways off and on my way to work I told him
to come to me, that way we could meet half way, but he just stood
there. So I kept on walking, and that's when I heard crying. All of a
sudden, this cute little 2 year old boy was running to me crying! When
I walked over he just wanted me to hold him...that's it. So simple,
just to be held, but that's all he wanted. I felt so loved and wanted
at that moment. It's easy to feel that way here. Everyone and their
mom will give you the time of day here. If I want something at the
market, everyone wants to give it to me, or help me find it, or just
watch me, but there's something different when a little child needs
that, something amazing about it. It's these kids that I tell stories
to every week. I tell them the miracles of Jesus, and how He wants to
work in each of our lives if we just ask Him into our hearts. Each
time, they silently listen, some of them hearing these stories for the
first time. After the stories we sing Bible songs that will teach them
different lessons, and that brings many smile and laughs. The kids have
something special, and I realized why God wants us to be like little
children, it's because they accept people easier, love easier, and bring
so much joy to their parents, especially their Father. So much praise
comes from these kids, so many songs, and so much laughter.
I went to visit a village 8 miles away, and on the way back, Lyol, the
missionary's 3 year old son sang "Jesus Loves Me" for 15 minutes. He
had his head on the window just singing it over and over again. It was
so precious. He was singing praises to God without even knowing it. I
was able to sing praises this week with some other kids too. Two days
ago my 6 year old brother didn't come home from watching the soccer
match at the market. Right when the kids told me this my 10 year old
sister and I set out to find him. I was actually a little surprised
that the family was wanting to go out and look for him, most families
here don't care where their kids are or when they come home. I didn't
realize that he was watching the game at the market, but after walking
over a mile, I realized it wasn't close. We went to grandma's house to
look for him, and finally stopped to rest at Uncle's house. When I got
there there were 4 people laying on mats, but within minutes there were
over 30 kids just standing and sitting, all staring at me. Well, I
thought I should use that time productively, and as much as I love
looking at myself too, I decided to start singing songs. We sang songs
about God for almost 30 minutes! It was so nice. One girl who goes to
the Adventist church wanted to sing "Jesus Loves Me" in English, and
even though she didn't really know what she was saying, and she couldn't
pronounce half of the words, but she sang her heart out with bad
pronunciation. The songs here don't have a nice tune, or even any tune,
but God doesn't say make a beautiful tune unto the Lord, He says make a
joyful NOISE to the Lord. Let me tell you, they are very good at making
noise! After we finished singing, one boy asked if we could pray, and
after our prayer, they asked if I was coming tomorrow! It was so nice!
It brought me so much joy, and I know that God was looking at this small
place of worship and was glowing with pride. After I left Uncle's
house, we continued on to the market in search of my brother. My sister
and I were accompanied by two neighbor boys and we finally found the
rest of my family by the Catholic church by the market, but still no
sign of my little brother. There were 12 of us out looking for him two
miles away from home. We got a call though a few minutes later that he
had made it home safely. It was a long, hot walk back, and when we made
it home, my little brother was met with some slaps, but he was safe.
This is why I'm here. Not necessarily to go out looking for lost little
brothers, though I do that to, but to be with the kids, to be with the
people here. I have been able to see these kids, and spend time with
them, and love them, and sing with them, and they are so amazing! The
Bible stories every week by my house, the night out with the 30 kids
singing praises to the Lord, and Lyol singing his praises to God, what a
blessing. This is why I'm here, and I'm sure gonna miss it.

Pray for Iri

There's an SM here in Tchad from Porto Rico, and she just got here about
6 weeks ago. While in Ndjamena she got a stomach bug and was having
problems from the first day here. After that she got a nasty cold, and
three weeks after being here she got malaria. She took quinine and it
actually wasn't too bad for her at all. She was walking 15 minutes to
the hospital everyday, eating food, she was doing pretty good. After
the first malaria round she had a bit of a cold again, but was pretty
normal. Eight days later she was in the hut throwing up and having some
crazy diarrhea and was finally put on IV quinine. Now I would just like
to point something out about quinine...it's bad. Symptoms of this drug
are loss of hearing, ringing in the ears, lowered blood sugar, loss of
appetite, diarrhea, vomiting, dizziness, confusion, nausea, and I think
some people have hallucinations. So anyways, with that said, she was
put on IV quinine. Throughout the first nigh, the vomiting and diarrhea
wouldn't stop, so they put her on parasite medications as well. She
finally made it through one of the worst weeks of her life and was done
with quinine. Well, I am sad to say that as I write this blog, she is
laying on a hospital bed beside me on IV quinine once more. 8 days
after her last quinine, she got malaria again. The Dr. actually thinks
that her body's not working well with the quinine, and that she keeps
having a relapse of the sickness. Either way, she's lost 20lbs, and has
had her faith tested through this trial. This isn't just a small bug,
some vomiting and diarrhea, this has been weeks of sickness and no
relief from the pain, nausea, and malaria. Through all of this though,
she keeps telling me that God will be glorified through this, and that
no matter what happens, she wants to praise God before the storm ends.
She's been reading the book "God In Pain", and she'll tell me the
different things she reads, and that going through this right now has
made her see a little more of what God went through, and what people go
through when they follow God's call sometimes. She's told me that she's
been struggling a lot with God and why He would bring her here to only
be sick the entire time so far, but God is good, and He has helped her
through all and will continue to help her through all. She wants to
give God glory before she's better, and before things are back to
normal. She wants to praise Him for what He will do in the future, even
if that means struggling through this. She will most likely be leaving
this next week, right now her body is too weak. But please continue
praying for her while she finishes another week of quinine, and pray for
her strength, both in body and in Christ.

It's So Hot!!

Oh my word it is so hot here! I am sitting here typing this with sweat
coming down my face. During the day, I work outside, and I feel my feet
being burnt by the sun, and the bottom of my feet being burnt by the
sand. It's so hot, all the time. It's almost 8 pm right now, and it
will be hot all night long. I had a friend email me and he said that
the weather where he lives is warming up to 70 degrees. I would be
happy if things cooled down to 70 degrees here! I've been sleeping
outside for almost two months now because it's so hot. Around 2 am it
gets down into the 80s and 90s, so it's cold enough for me to sleep with
my sheet and sometimes even a blanket. Most nights I wet some piece of
clothing and fan it in the wind and then sleep with that to cool me
down. It's gotten over 110 degrees already, and I'm sure it will only
get hotter before I leave. They've had thermometers say 130 degrees
before. This is by far the hottest place I have ever been! Some days
it's hard to handle, but somehow, by the grace of God I have been able
to acclimatize slowly. It's so crazy when I see mothers carrying their
babies on their backs, and the babies are wearing knitted hats, boots,
and sweaters! Just having a baby on my back is hot enough, and that
poor baby has to wear such thick clothes! People here go out and work
almost all day in their fields gathering wood, and some of their fields
are miles away. I have been so blessed to come here when I did though,
because now in the market they have a smoothie place, and some soda
places. Now, this is no Jamba Juice or soda machine. When we go there
we tell them we either want a mango, banana, or avocado smoothie, and
then they blend water (possibly amoeba infested), lots of sugar,
powdered milk, and the fruit together and give us our $1 smoothies. If
we're lucky, we'll get there when there's still a little ice left. The
soda shops are these Arab shops with old fridges, some of them still
working, and drinks inside. We get Pepsi, Mountain Dew (which just came
in), sprite, fanta, cold water, local tea, there are so many different
kinds, it's crazy! But no for real, it's hot here. I just wanted to
let you all know, all of you reading this while having your AC on, or
snow outside, that it's super hot here, so enjoy all the cold for me!

You Know You're In Tchad When...

You know you're in Tchad when...

• going braless is normal
• you don't brush your teeth for 3 days and people don't think it's weird
• you can't stop talking about food back home
• the only local plane taking off is the most exciting thing!
• you drive a moto at night that doesn't have a working headlight, so you use a dying headlamp or the light from your cell phone
  
• you're driving a moto at night that doesn't have a working headlight and the moto coming towards you doesn't have a working headlight either.
• your shower water has rice floating in it and smells like boule
• when drunk men or drunk horses run around celebrating...they don't even know what.
• you get a package that has new ziploc bags in them and you think they look nice
• it's 70 degrees outside and you're wrapped in a blanket
• you buy a dog for $5
• you buy a monkey for $4
• you see a picture of carpet and it takes your breath away
• you don't shower consistently (I won't say how many days) and it doesn't really bother you
• a 14 seater plane comes to Bere and it's the biggest plane anyone here has ever seen
• a mouse runs over your foot while you're squatting and it doesn't phase you.
• you pray you can eat the food, and then pray that you get sick so you don't have to
• the SMs talk about how much fun it would be to have malaria at the same time
• Matthew and I have a conversation on whether we think rice husks, rocks, or sand is better in food
• half our conversations consist of the consistency of our poop
• you can feel a fly chillin on your face but you don't swat at it because you know it will just come back
• your bed sheet, soaked in your body sweat, is the coolest place to lay down at  night
• a giant toad flopping by your bed doesn't bother you, but rather conjures up the thought, "good! he'll get rid of all the bugs!"
• profusely picking mango peelings out of your teeth is the norm, even in front of crowds of people
• you take a shower with all your clothes on because it's so hot outside!
• your finger is way up your nose digging for stuff and you're having a conversation and don't think twice
• sides A and B of your underwear just don't cut it
• we stand and talk to each other while one person is taking a dump
• there is poop on the side of the road
• you're so sick of eating the same thing everyday that you feed the local dog with it
  
• girls are all lined up taking a poop and you have to walk passed them
  
• calling someone fat is a compliment
  
• everyone takes showers together...like neighbors, church members, random people who say they're your friends
  
• goat brain is the local delicacy 
• people say Happy New Year in April
• you're floating in a cow poop infested river eating mangoes
  
• blowing up a goat like a balloon through a cut in it's foot is part of the preparation for the meal
• some of the best English speakers are drunk men
• everyone and their mom wants a gift from you
• bunches of kids come to your hut everyday to give you mangoes...just cause
• kids run over to you from wherever they are just to greet you
• strangers talk to you like you've been friends forever
• there's always time to lay on a mat and look at the millions of stars
• people love you more than anything else that they do
  
• you're so excited about leaving, but the thought of never coming home again hurts so bad

This is when you know you're in Tchad.

Cinderfella

So this story is just like Cinderella, just without the glass slipper,
true love, happy ever after, carriage, money...this is the story of
Koustogue, my 14 year old brother. From the first day I moved in I
liked him, he was helpful, kind, laughed a lot, just a really nice kid.
He doesn't look like any of the other kids in my family though. They
all look like their mom, but I just thought he was the lucky one who
turned out looking like the dad. Things have been going quite smoothly,
well, until a few months ago. One night I came home and wanted to take
a shower, and since it was colder then, she had him put water over the
fire for my shower. I am generally a chill person, so I was just laying
on a mat looking at the stars, not in much of a hurry. One thing you
should know about my family here is that they yell. All the time, every
time they talk, when they're angry, when they're sad, when they're
hungry, when they work...they yell all the time. Even at 5 am when I'm
trying to sleep they yell. So with that said, as I was laying on the
mat, and Monique (my mom) was yelling at Koustogue about how my water
wasn't warm yet, and that's when I heard it...she slapped his face, you
know, so that the water would heat up faster. He went under a tree and
started to cry, and I wanted to help, but what do I do? Should I go
over and comfort him in front of everyone, so now they'll make fun of
him and give him more grief? I just sat there, feeling helpless. The
next two days he wasn't around very much, leaving for school early,
coming home late, and not eating with the family. I finally was able to
talk to him, and that's when I heard the whole story, from his point of
view. Years ago his father (my Tchadian dad) was married to three
different women, and had children with each of them, but after becoming
a Christian, he left two of them to live with his first wife, Monique.
Koustogue is the son from the second wife. I don't know the reason, but
when he was five, he came here to Bere to live with my family. He's
been living here for almost ten years! As I continued talking with him,
he told me that Monique hits him more than the other children, and he
works more than the other children, and is just treated differently.
The oldest sister in our family hits him a lot too when he doesn't do
what she says when she says it. He told me how unhappy he was here, and
because of all the hurt he's feeling, he wants to go back to his real
mother...the lady who for some reason or another gave him away years
ago. Ever since that day, my eyes have been opened. I've seen him work
more than the other children, I've seen him go without breakfast, and
I've seen him leave the house crying. This is the Cinderfella story.
He lives with a woman who is not his mother, with siblings that aren't
his real siblings, he works more, gets less, and wants to get out.
Compared to most kids he is well off. He has a roof over his head,
clothes to wear, he's not starving, and he's getting an education, but
despite all of this, he's hurting. I want to help, I want to take him
home with me, but that's not the answer, he would never survive in
America. I don't think that I will ever be able to help take him away
from this physically, but I do know that I can tell him about my Father
who will never do this to him. I tell the kids Bible stories about
Christ's love for all His children, and how He wants all of them to be
saved and come to Him when they're hurting. I may never know the
ending of this story. I know he wont' be saved by some exotic princess,
he may never even leave this village, but he doesn't have to be lost.
He doesn't have to be consumed by the negative things in this life.
Like I said, he's helpful, kind, laughs a lot, just a really nice kid,
and I know that God can reach him and take away his pain. This is the
story of Koustogue, my 14 year old brother.

Disappointment.

So I have $130 worth of water filter here, but I haven't had the need to use it until now.  The days are getting hotter, and the nights are starting to be unbearable, so water is always needed.  I finally got buckets to connect the filter to, and I'm super excited because I'm told this filter takes out giardia and amoebas, finally an endless water supply is going to be at my finger tips.  I can taste the sweetness of clean, cold water entering my parched mouth...I'm super excited!  So I had to cut some holes, and connect some stuff, but no leaks...this will be a success, I can feel it in my stomach!  So you know how in the states when people say that they have well water, everyone knows their water is good and probably super cold and, well, just nice.  Here, when someone says well water I know it's not even close.  All of the water I draw up from wells has a nice brownish tint to it, pieces of sticks floating in it, chunks of dirt in it, and once in a while I will get this nice  metal taste in the water.  Basically after I drink some of this stuff I wonder how fast I will be able to run to the hole if I get massive, explosive diarrhea during the night.  So anyways, this filter, the answer to life's problems...how beautiful.  Well, I hooked it up, poured water in, and waited.  Disappointment.  That word means different things for different people, and for some people it runs deeper than for others.  Right now, that word means I won't get an unlimited  water supply like I thought.  The water that came out the other end was yellow.  Sure it took out most of the things that I could see, at least it wasn't as brown as the water that I put in it, but still, it was dirty.  There were still little parasites swimming in there, I could tell.  Don't worry, I won't die from dehydration, there are other ways to find clean water, but still, disappointment entered into my once excited stomach.   But have you ever thought of the impurities in our own lives?  Maybe it's the things we say, what we watch, what we listen to, or what we spend our time doing.  Our impurities are natural, we're sinners, but we have a filter.  We have someone who takes away ALL our impurities, and He never leaves dirty water behind.  He wants to give us clean water, an endless supply, a supply that will never run dry, and will never give us diarrhea.  The best thing of all, is that it's free.  Want a drink?

How Heavy Is Your Load?

Each morning the women will walk to their fields to gather wood to sell
or cook with. These women will walk miles with 30-40 lbs of wood on
their heads, and then they'll walk two miles or more to the market where
they attempt to sell if for less than a dollar. Life is so hard here.
When I look at them I can't help but think of how heavy their load is.
Today I saw three little girls, probably only 8 of 9 years old, and they
were walking the two miles to the market to sell their bundles of wood.
These bundles were bigger than the little girls; how heavy the load is
for them.
I saw Pierre on the road trying to carry this branch that was probably
only 20 lbs. He's around 50 years old, but has the look of an 80 year
old. The load was a little too much for him. There are families with
young people all along the road, and not one person was about to offer
him assistance. I stopped him and offered to take this branch from him,
and with a big smile he handed it to me. I didn't realize that his
house was as far as it was, and at the speed he was walking it took even
longer, but we finally made it. The walk was a bit far, and a bit hard,
I even had to change shoulders a few time, and my body is still young.
Without help he would have struggled for a good half an hour trying to
take this branch home. The loads that these people carry...that we all
carry are too heavy. I see it everyday when women are bent over from
work, when children are carrying as much as the parents, or when mothers
hold their dying children because there's not money to take them to the
hospital. I see it when friends struggle with depression, when couples
get divorced, and when Satan attacks us and wants to separate us from God.

Today, I went to another funeral. The family built a platform about 5ft
high and placed this young man's body on it. I saw women coming and
wailing around him, grabbing his arms, crying out as if they had just
lost their own son. Sometimes I don't think that they are just crying
because someone died, although that is part of the reason. I think they
cry from all the work, all the death, all the births, all the beatings,
all the corruption, all the starvation, all the neglect, all the pain.
The only place where it is normal and excepted to cry is at a funeral,
and that's where all their suppressed emotions are able to come out, and
they are able to feel all that there is to cry about here.
After I dropped off the stick at Pierre's house, he was so grateful for
what I did. I have never seen someone so happy and thankful for
something...and I only carried his heavy load. I really didn't do very
much, but he still wished that he had something to give me. As I walked
away, I remembered that I had an old cabbage and some noodles in my bag;
they weren't the best, but I went back to his house and gave them to
him. Again he was so grateful, telling me that he wouldn't go hungry
tonight now, and again said he wished he had something to give me.
He'll never understand that his gratitude was enough. My heart was
filled with excitement and happiness, and all I did was offer to help
lighten his load. We are too weak to carry these burdens on our own, we
need help.
God does the same thing for us. No matter how heavy, or how long we've
been carrying our loads, God's arms are open to carry it for us. There
are too many people who don't know this yet, who are walking around
Tchad, who are walking around the United States of America, who don't
know that God will carry their burdens. They don't know that there is
help in the Lord, peace in His love, and water and food for the soul
that will never run dry. It's our privilege to tell them.

God is Good, and God is here.

Last night I went out visiting some of my neighbors, just to say hello and get to know the people that I've been living around for the past six months.  The first stop was Esther's house, where she stays in one hut with 3 out of the 7 children.  Her husband died some years ago, and now she works hard trying to put food in the mouths of her children.  I talked with her, but with the language barrier, I had to have my little sister translate from French into Nanjere, and throwing in the little Nanjere that I know, that's how we got to be friends.  I looked around their hut, and didn't see very much.  We were sitting on the grass mat where they sleep, the only nice thing they had was the chair that the oldest daughter sat on, but who knows, the father could have bought that when he was still alive.  it was nice getting out and visiting this family.  They didn't have anything to offer me, but they had opens hearts, and a space on the mat for me to sit...that's all I needed.   Next I went to Florin's house.  As I walked up they were all excited that I came, and they brought out their broken grass mats for us to sit on.  We sat down and talked about their health, the heat, the cold nights,  and the work.  I asked where her husband was, and she said that he's around, but switches between the houses of his wives.  He's drinks and smokes a lot, and doesn't provide the family with money.  The nice clothes that the children own are from missionaries, and they had to work for each piece of clothing.  The family asked me to come inside their wall to eat some food, which I wanted to say no, please, I'm really not hungry, but it was too late, they had a bowl out for me and we were already walking over.  It was a sauce made with mangoes, which I thought couldn't be too bad, mangoes are amazing!  I was expecting a yellow sauce type thing, since mangoes are yellow, but instead of a yellow sauce, it was gray.  Don't ask me what was in it,because I can't tell you, but I didn't enjoy it at all. But this was all they had, this was all they could give me.  I realized that this is what they eat everyday during mango season, and many days without rice because there is no money to buy it.  But what happens when the mangoes are finished, what will they eat then?  A few months back, Matthew gave a toothbrush to Florin, but since there was no toothpaste to give with it,  he told her to brush anyways.  I found out this week that she faithfully brushes everyday...with soap.  I realized how hard their lives are, how far God must seem for them.  Do they ever feel forgotten by God?  They don't have blankets to keep them warm, they don't have running water, or even clean water.  They are sick a lot, don't have money for the things they need, much less the things they want.  They have to eat nasty food everyday of their lives, do they ever feel forgotten?  I kept thinking this while we talked, but the longer we talked I realized it wasn't like that at all.  Every time we would talk about something hard, something that they struggle with, hunger, or the pain they go through, she would always say that God is good, and God is here.  God is good, and God is here.  What faith.  What trust.  I sit here and complain about the food, but the food I eat is pasta, and rice, and goodish sauce, I have so much!  I realized last night that they have everything that they need.  They have faith in a God who provides for their needs, and never leaves them.  God is good, and God is here.

I'm So Tired of This Life

I'm so tired of this life.  I'm tired of the pain, the hunger, the work, the struggle, I can't wait till it all ends and we can go home.  Ela went into the hospital again after a week of being home.  She is a 14 month old little girl, who used to have chubby cheeks, who laughed, and brought joy to her parents, and now she lays in the hospital close to death.  She is the youngest child in the family that Matthew lives with.  She was in the hospital for a week, where she was treated for malaria, giardia, and some other stuff, but after a week of being home, and suffering from constant fever, diarrhea, and throwing up, she was taken back to the hospital.  Clarise, the mom was tested for HIV, which, praise the Lord came back negative, and Ela was tested for lots of different problems as well.  We went to find out what Ela's tests said, but the lab workers said that the tests wouldn't be finished till the morning.  The only problem is that the lab workers get upset if they have to work past 12pm, and so they won't rush for tests for anyone, even if it means their death.  What else could we do but walk away and pray that whatever is wrong with her won't kill her before the morning. 

Throughout her time in the hospital she has had multiple IVs, many medications, and has suffered from a seizure.  She's so little, and has been through so much, but because of where we are, I'm not sure there's more than faith that can save her.  Every day the family asks when they can take her home, because she has enough energy to drink breast milk now, so she's better and can go home right?  I wish the family could understand why they're at the hospital, and why they need to stay.

Last Friday I was holding Ela while Clarise took a 5 minute nap, and in those 5 minutes I fell in love with her.  This little 14 month girl who seemed to be dying in my arms, her somewhat chubby cheeks that now sag because of malnutrition is the only thing left that shows that she used to be a healthy little girl.  The rest of her body, overcome by malnutrition, vomiting, and diarrhea, I couldn't help but hurt for her.  She breathes heavy, working hard for every breath.  She would open her eyes for a second, and then they would roll to the back of her head and she'd sleep some more.  Her mother Clarise hadn't eaten in 5 days, and it's not because she's not hungry, but because she has been holding her dying baby for months, and she's overwhelmed with depression, that she can't eat what's in front of her.  I finally understood a small portion of the pain that the people go through here on a day to day basis.  After holding Ela for 5 minutes and praying for her, I started to cry thinking that she is probably going to die, and I can't do anything about it.  But her mother who has loved Ela her whole life, has to sit and watch her daughter die, and can't do anything about it. How much pain she is going through.  As I sat there with her in my arms, I saw three other mothers who were there with their babies, and I saw how tired they looked, and how broken they were, and this is probably the 2nd or 3rd time they've gone through this with one of their children.  They have to be so tired of this life.

As I worked in Pediatrics this week, I would sit with them for hours, giving her liquids, watching her sleep, and praying for her life.  "Why can't I have the faith the same of the disciples?  Why can't my prayer heal her when medicine can't?  I've seen Jesus, right?  I've been with Jesus right?  Why can't my prayer save her?"  I couldn't get these thoughts out of my head, when after every prayer I would sit there and watch her struggle for every breath, when she would cough all day, and when her eyes would roll to the back of her head...God just save her!!  Yesterday she seemed to be getting better; at least she was eating, and she would look around, concentrating for minutes on different things.  Finally, a glimmer of hope.  Maybe these new medications that she got are helping.  But a while later Matthew went over and said that her head would go back and forth like she was struggling for something...struggling for life.  After prayers again last night we left for home, praying that she would make it through the night, and she did, maybe the medications really are helping! 

Today Dr. Olen did say that this was the last thing we could try, and sure she's not looking better, but just maybe.  As I watched her today, she would pull away from drinking milk, and just look at her Clarise with a somewhat pained look in her face, almost as if she was scared.  She is in so much pain.  My Great Physician, please take away her pain, heal her in Your time, and show Yourself to this family.  After Olen did rounds he told the family which medications to give when, and since she wasn't on IV fluids anymore it was okay for them to go home.  They finally got their wish to take her home, so that everyone could get some good rest.  We prayed again, knowing that if the new medications don't work, only prayer will save her.  After Matthew found a motorcycle I drove them home.

Each day brings new emotions, new surprises, and new faith.  I returned to work after taking Clarise and Ela home, and continued with work, while malaria filled Matthew slept in the SM hut.  At 11:30 am he said he wanted to go home to be with the family, and to be there for Ela, but since he wasn't feeling good, and since he's dizzy from the quinine, he asked me to drive him home.  We arrived to a mat filled with women crying.  We arrived to a little, cold body that is finally resting in peace.  God's time to heal her wasn't today, and He will come home again to take her home, but that doesn't take the hurt away... it doesn't stop the tears.  As I sat there and cried with them, I saw all the sisters wailing over her, and Clarise singing and crying by her little body.  God, come comfort this family.  God, come comfort us.  As I sat, the singing continued, and the uncle to Ela came from the market with a little white cloth, something that signifies that she's really gone.  It finally hit, this little girl that I've seen struggle for the past few months, this girl who used to smile at me, who used to hide her face from me, who just this week would stare at me while holding my hand, will never be able to do any of this again on this earth.  But God is good, He is here, and He will never leave.

Germs...

I will never look at germs the same. Shaking hands back in the states
is so beautiful, because I know that hands are clean. I mean most
people have washed their hands after using the bathroom, and they use
toilet paper, they basically don't even need to wash their hands! The
culture here requires that every time you see someone that you know you
must shake their hand, and I know they did not wash their hands with
soap, and that they wiped...with their hand! I'm just gonna explain
germ transfer here really quickly for you.

After the kids get really dirty the mom will wash them in a big bowl of
water. She'll wash the poop off the baby's butt, and the poop off the
older child's feet, then she'll take the rice and rinse it in the same
bowl, which she didn't wash out with soap. After wiping baby butt with
her hand, she'll grab the spoon that I'm about to eat with and rinse it
off in the water that she used to clean the rice, in the bowl she used
to clean the kids...super sanitary right? Whenever they make a salad
for me, my family is super awesome and lets the salad stand in bleach
water, and then after that they will rinse it in giardia infested
water. `There will be times when I am walking to the market and a kid
will run up to me and pull his hand out of his pants to shake mine.
Just yesterday these two super cute little girls followed me home and
watched me while I was trying to clean my hut. After a while they asked
if I could wash them, and seeing their completely unclean state, I
simply couldn't resist. I took my liquid body soap (which they had
never seen before) and a bucket of water, and by the time I turned
around they were nakedly ready for their wash. While I was cleaning the
first girl, the second one took a squat right beside the bucket, right
beside me, and took a pee...come on girl, you could have walked 5 feet
away! Talking about showers, my shower has pools all through it, and
these are pools of urine. Everyone in Tchad uses the shower area as a
urinal as well, but when I first got here I didn't really notice the
smell, but now I can be walking 10 feet away and can smell the pee.
It's even worse when I go in to take a shower, because the smell
overwhelms me and I feel like I'm being covered in little particles of
pee. I've been trying to work on my balance because there have been
times when I'm cleaning my feet and lose my balance, only to step in a
puddle of pee...no longer clean feet. But no worries, if I manage to
stay clean in the shower, I will come out to goat poop or something that
I step in...it really doesn't gross me out anymore. Just this last
Sabbath at church I was holding a baby who peed all the way down the
front of me, which was not the first time, but it's okay, because that
stuff dries. The worst though is when there's a really sick baby and
you can hear the rumbles coming, and then the squirts! The mom will
wipe it off with leaves, her hand, her clothes, or whatever is closest,
and then after church she'll walk over and shake my hand. It seems like
no matter what I do, I can't get away from germs. If a fruit, bread, or
vegetables falls on the ground, no worries, they will pick it up and
bring it to me to eat. The same ground that has been walked on by pigs,
chickens, cows, people, poop...there's just no escaping it. Every time
I go to eat, it is the culture to have a bowl and water to rinse hands
in, and every time, without fail, the water in the bowl after I rinse my
hands is brown. There's so much to be grateful for back home. Cheap
soap, running water, clean water, clean hands, just clean stuff.
Everything here is dusty, I don't even remember what shiny looks like.
The meat in the market sits there all day in the hot sun, and people buy
it and eat it for the next couple of days. The fish in the market smell
horrible, almost like they were already eaten and then pooped out, and
are now sitting on a tray in front of me. It's different here, the
money is dirty looking, and straight up dirty, the food isn't always
safe, the hands are never clean, but this is Tchad, and I love it. I
love almost every part of it, I mean I could live without pooping
babies, but it's really not that bad. Today when you go to town, just
take a look at how blessed you are, and how clean things really are back
home. God wants to do this with our lives. He wants to take it and
make us clean, as white as snow, beautiful. We have a choice today, to
either walk around with poopy hands, or to walk around with clean
hearts. What will you choose today?

Goodbye Boaz...

I heard wailing louder than I have ever heard before, everywhere I
turned there was crying. Boaz, 24 years old, studying in Ndjamena, died
last Sunday. All the people here say that he was different than most,
always visiting everyone in the village when he was home, providing for
his family, and kind to everyone; not your typical Tchadian. He seemed
fine Sunday morning, going to church as usual, but no one knows for sure
what happened, maybe poison, maybe witchcraft, but two hours after
throwing up Sunday afternoon he died. While his body was being
retrieved by his older brother Franco, the 14 days of mourning began.
Wailing every night. Drumming every night. Singing every night.
Praying every night. The people of this village said goodbye to Boaz
on Wednesday, the 8th of February. I watched as hundreds of people were
coming from all different directions to lay their brother, friend, and
son into the ground. As his coffin was put into the grave, the wailing
began again. The sound of such pain was enough to give me the chills,
and to break my heart all at the same time. I took my eyes, for a
moment, off the faces of the people, and looked to the ground. I saw
feet that were dirty, cracked, broken, lame, and I thought of all the
roads that these people have walked. Roads to happiness, roads to pain,
roads to starvation, or roads to sin. I wished that the feet could
speak English to me and tell all that they have seen, all the roads that
they have traveled, but on that day, all these feet were at the same
place, to look pain in the eyes once more. After the grave was filled a
group of women with small sticks in hand, sang and danced around the
grave. One woman had the equivalent of almost $20 on a stick as she
danced. After that everyone went back to the house to continue the 14
days of mourning. Aaron, one of the older brothers who comes to church
with us asked a group of us to stay for a few songs and a prayer around
the grave. The last song that Aaron started was "It is finished my
brother, it is finished little brother, it is finished my friend." I
couldn't help but cry as he continued singing the song. The pain that
this brother was feeling, I couldn't comprehend, but I still hurt. I
thought of the people that came that day, all thinking of their past
losses, knowing that there will be another next week, and the week after
that, how much can these people take? They go to funerals almost every
week for a family member or friend, God how can you comfort so many?
But as I thought of the words to the song, I found joy, because it is
not finished, Jesus is coming again! He will wipe every tear from our
eyes, he will take away death forever, He will give us new feet, and
gold paths to walk to the market on! Oh wow, how amazing that day will
be, how amazing eternity will be! There are many people who have yet to
hear the song "it is not finished my brother, my friend, my sister, it
has just begun". Many ears have not yet heard, many lives have not been
changed, but that is why he has sent us. We must tell the world of the
Good News, we must tell the world of His love. He wants us to be
ready...He wants us. Even now I can still hear the drumming, the
singing, the wailing, I know they will continually have pain here in
this place, but Jesus is coming soon, tell the world.

This World Is Not My Home

Some days, three months seems like forever, and other days, three months
seems like it's gonna pass by so fast! Well, Friday was one of those
days that three months felt like forever away. I went to the market in
the afternoon, and visited a friend, but for some reason wanted to be
alone. After the market, I got home to my 14 year old brother crying.
My brother's name is Koustoge, and a few years back his dad had been
married to three women, but after he became a Christian and realized
that it was wrong, he only kept his first wife, who is the lady I live
with now. But Koustoge is from the second wife, and isn't treated the
same as all the other kids. He works more, and gets less. He told me
that he never goes hungry, so that is good, but he also feels like a
stranger in this family. A couple weeks ago, Monique hit him because
the water for my shower wasn't warm yet, and he told me later that his
heart hurts him every time he gets hit, and that he doesn't want to live
here anymore. Friday night he was also crying because he got hit. The
older sister hit him because he didn't get water from the well fast
enough...or something like that. I was angry that she would do that,
but no one else seemed to care. They went on eating and talking, as of
nothing happened. I was so angry, so I went off by myself and watched a
small bush fire that was burning nearby. Three kids from my family and
the mom all came over to see if I was ok...why can't you do this for
your own children? I am a stranger and you treat me more like family
than Koustoge! He has been living there for over 10 years, can't you
just love him like he's your son! Well, after my tears, praying, and
frustration, I went back to the compound to Monique crying. Her brother
had just died a few minutes earlier in another village. She had just
come back from a funeral of one of our neighbors who died during child
birth, and she's gone to two or three for her family. They see so much
pain here, why would they care about the child who was just beaten, he's
still alive isn't he? Well, I was overwhelmed and tired, so after my
shower under heaven I went to bed.

Sabbath brought it's own challenges. One of the ladies at a Sabbath
school branch that just started a few months ago said that she didn't
want people coming to her house anymore to tell these stories. The
white people weren't helping her with food and money, and local people
were giving her a hard time about it, so she just wanted it to stop.
Well, some people went and talked to her, and straightened things out a
bit, but it was a little discouraging. Later in the afternoon one of
the SMs here finally broke down because her family isn't feeding her
good, and she's always hungry, and they lie about why they don't have
food for her when she pays them some good money. She's been working
hard trying to help them keep Sabbath, and this was just the last little
thing that broke her. Some of this stuff really isn't a big deal, but
when you struggle with language, you work hard all day, and have to eat
weird food all the time, the smallest things can get to you. It was at
lunch that I realized that Satan was working to discourage us. So often
I just look at things and think that it's just life, so we should go
with the flow. But it's not just life, it's a battle over souls.
Through most of the weekend I wanted to be home with my family. I
longed for the day that I arrive at the airport and finally get to hug
them and see them in person. But I realized that I should be longing
for heaven in the same way. This world is not my home, I'm just passing
through, so I better not get too comfortable, because that's just where
the devil wants me. He wants me to be comfortable where I am, so that I
don't long for where I could be. The Great Controversy is real, and it
doesn't always come out in demon possession, or witchcraft, but in
subtle things that discourage us, or things that keep us from looking to
God. In those times, it's important to remember that this world isn't
our home, but before we can all go home, we have to tell everyone about
how amazing God is.

It's Simple

Today Gary flew into Bendele with the biggest plane that has come to
this part of Tchad! It was amazing! Everyone was so excited, all the
kids coming around, parents coming to the airstrip to see this amazing
piece of metal! I now know that I've been here for quite a while,
because even I was jumping up and down from all the joy inside my soul.
My friend Freddy is a very educated man, and has traveled and studied
in Cameroon, but this was still the biggest plane that he has seen! This
plane could seat 14 people!!! I know this sounds kinda pathetic to all
you reading this, but it was amazing! I felt as though this was the
biggest plane that I had ever seen.

Life here is so simple, that even the little things like a small plane
bring such joy and excitement. Here we cook over a fire or charcoal,
get water with a bucket from a well, and rest under the stars every
night. We laugh at all the little things, dance when we're happy, and
take life as we go. I see the sun rise and set everyday, and I see kids
running around pushing tires or pot lids with a stick, playing soccer,
or just having fun in the sand. They don't need the newest toy from
walmart when they can make a toy from leaves and a stick...they're
happy. We have so much here. The smallest gift of time is so special
and treasured, and visiting someone is a big deal. To pass time the
people play drums, talk, laugh, eat, and...talk. Their lives are still
very hard; women work in the fields in the morning, and that evening are
giving birth to their 13th child. People still look like they're 90
when they're only 50, and people die of sickness and poverty all the
time, but despite all the hardships that they face, they are still
content with life.

I gave my family glow in the dark stars for Christmas, and the other
night we all put them up in their house. All of the kids were there
putting their hands in my face trying to get a star to put up on the
wall. The mom was even in there pushing her kids out of the way or
taking the stars from them so that she could help put up the stars.
Something so small, but yet so amazing! That's how I think it is with
God. He gives us the little things in life that show us how amazing He
really is. He doesn't want us to be filled with the things of this
world that distract us, but He wants us to be filled with Him, and to be
content with the little things of this world that He has created for us!

This life really is too short, and filled with so much stuff...but I
serve a God who reaches to us in our clutter, and simply gives.

The Season For Tears

"To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under
heaven...a time to be born, and a time to die...a time to weep, a time
to laugh, a time to mourn, and a time to dance." Ecc. 3:1,2,4

Today saw a lot of tears. I wish that I could poetically tell you
about life, but I'm finding out that there's a lot of things that just
aren't beautiful or poetic about this life. Today was one of those
un-poetic days for us here in Tchad. This morning Dr. James Appel's 6
month old son Adam died from malaria. It was so unexpected, because he
was doing better when he first went on quinine, but on his second round
of quinine, it was too much for his little body and he seized and died.
This whole day felt as though everything here should stop. I would look
at people carrying on with life and just want them to stop and see what
happened, and cry with us. But death happens here all the time, it's a
part of life, so why should everyone stop for this? But everyone around
us did stop and feel the pain that the day had brought. I just saw a
happy boy eating yesterday, and today I saw Sarah holding his lifeless
little body. They canceled church here, and all the people came and sat
in a circle chanting all morning, while people went in and saw the baby
and James and trying to comfort him. We had a lunch and prepared the
English part of the funeral, which consisted of verses and songs that
James and Sarah wanted to have, and than Jonathan had a little talk
prepared. Gary and Wendy flew in from a different part of Tchad,
because a few years ago they went through the same thing when they lost
their son Caleb to malaria, so they came to share in the pain of this
loss. During the service they sat right in front of me, holding this
little bundle that had brought them so much joy, and now their hearts
were filled with pain. She held him and stroked his face as though he
was still alive, and as she looked on his little face hers was filled
with tears. While James held Sarah, Gary and Wendy were right there to
comfort and mourn with them. The Tchadians continued with chanting
until they placed him in his little blue casket and put him in the
ground. Part of me felt a bit of anger at the people, why couldn't they
just let us sing our songs that we actually understood, and let us feel
how we know how to feel, instead of chanting and such. The service
ended with the sun setting, such a beautiful ending to such a broken
day. A day so numbing, and so long, but so short. The longer I try
living on this earth the more I see that life is so short, and that sin
is so real, but God is so powerful! He tell is in Isaiah 25:8 that "He
will swallow up death forever, and the Lord God will wipe away tears
from all faces; the rebuke of His people he will take away from all the
earth; for the Lord has spoken." I ask that you guys keep James and
Sarah in your prayers, and the work that God has here for them. I know
some of you reading this might ask why he would even bring his babies
here to Tchad, but God has called each of us, and for some, following
God comes with great sacrifice and loss, but the reward is even greater
than any loss we experience here on this earth. I pray that we are all
able to follow Christ, no matter what the cost.