Dear Cherished Interested’s,

It could be heard in their voices as they walked to the truck. Our two Sunday school and text study helpers were not bickering with nor challenging each other as teenage siblings do. They sounded like they were walking on air while congratulating each other in amazement. They had done well and they were walking in the glow of that. That was Sunday morning.

This is Tuesday morning and it is raining very well. Unlike the common electrical affliction of low or partial voltage shorting across somewhere that leaves light bulbs glowing dull even when switched off, there has been no voltage at all through most of the night. I am writing on battery.

This morning Hilda has decided to stay home. Not stopped by a respiratory bug which I have shared on to her, she intends to work from here as power and internet access allow. The rain is falling well on the big banana leaves outside and a local monkey troupe is calmly occupying a large tree in the back corner of the property behind the house. Their activity level muted against the precipitation.

The grandfather who lived long enough for me to know him had a home in Florida. Nana and Papa had grapefruit and orange trees. The boy scouts there would have work-party-fund-raisers in which they would pick everyone’s ripe fruit for them, box it up, and even ship some as directed. We would get at least one box on the farm. Those oranges predated the ones that have been selected for since. They were thin-skinned and mottled in color with lots of discolorations. Those visual imperfections had no bearing upon the quality and value of the fruit. That is the type of orange we get here. That is a perfect breakfast when fighting a respiratory bug. Not overly sweet and with enough of an acid bite to take the soreness out of the swollen tissues of the mouth and throat.

I’ve had this bug since last week, going into town for meds Friday afternoon. Saturday was a push as Hilda’s driver needed to get her up to The Children’s Village so she can teach. Then back down to the big road for a meeting while she was teaching. Then back to the Silverleaf Academy house where important things were locked up for others who were coming to disperse them Saturday. Then back up to The Children’s Village to collect Hilda and take her home for a few minutes rest and a bite to eat. Then back up to The Children’s Village for on-line live Storytime. Then a birthday party. Then, well after dark, take a couple folks across the mountain to 2 mountain lodge where they were staying. Then finally home to sleep.

Sunday I had no voice. Sunday we slept in and missed the 7:am English Service at the Cathedral. I wasn’t scheduled to preach but I need worship as much as anyone else. We collected our helpers, two local born teenage siblings of adoption, from up on the mountain, took them to the house and as Hilda stuffed them with breakfast they read aloud my message/text study for the Children’s Village Mama’s.

We selected which scheduled verse of the Psalm was to be the start for the Sunday School and we discussed that.

When the time came I drove to the dining hall on campus and stayed in the truck. Hilda and the boys handled the whole thing. From outside in the truck I could hear the boarding students singing the praise songs they have inside them, the songs Hilda has taught them for each day of the creation story in Genesis, and even the prayer setting I wrote years ago and have been singing in blessing over them. They boys had forgotten some of the words but were well supported by the boarding students who remembered every word and each note.

Then up the mountain to The Children’s Village where they did Sunday School with the Children there. These are children these two siblings have known and shared life with for their whole lives.

Then the two siblings read out my message in English while translating it into Swahili on the fly without me. This they did while leaving room for the Mama’s to read the scheduled scriptures out for each other. This they did around singing hymns, these Mama’s who have known these two siblings their entire lives here on the mountain.

When I heard our helpers so completely removed from teenage competition mode as they came out to the truck afterword, I knew I had to brag on what losing my voice let happen. I don’t need to be part of it. It is so cool to see that worship happens with or without us. That Worship is now becoming normative for two local born geniuses and those other children they have been made a family into and among. Survival is still central for so many. Survival with hope.. hope through worship.. worship in gratitude.. wow! Wow, Wow, Wow..

We didn’t come here to do this. We simply came. This has all come out of others asking us to do what we have been asked to do. Local folks wanting us for things we did not plan.

Your Prayer makes all the difference.

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Also please continue to Pray for:

Makumira Secondary School looking to share stories and partner in some way with a foreign school, Great leaders, teachers, students, programs, strong backs, minds, and hearts –

Hilda’s invisibility to those who can only see their own authority –

Sorry, still my Visa situation (another 3 month extension for us both in the works hopefully!) -

Our armed forces families, our leadership, our people, whole world round, all of Gods kids -

All the tough and blessing expressed above –

The love of folks –

Whatever is on your hearts and minds for us –

For our children and grand-children who miss us.. we miss them too..

I continue to be under much harsh spiritual attack concerning my sense of self-worth and those many things I have yet to get to, please, only as you are comfortable, remember me, indeed us.. the world doesn’t like what we are doing out of love we don’t own.. yet have none the less -

For our health to stay ahead of whatever is before us, for us to let our health fail so others can shine –

For a way for us to invest with our experience and even financially in support of local industrious people so we can afford to stay and continue to make a difference one face at a time –

For those who have braved the donate button to discover Kajun Crofton, our daughter who helps getting each one of your donations to us and every blogpost to where you can read it –

For you who find other ways to uplift and support us -

For each and every one of you –

Each and every one of your prayers, your precious conversations with God –

Prayers, Your Prayer, skipping stone and even groaning prayers make all the difference..

Vern W

May Life be as Music to your Heart - May Music be as Heart to your Life 

- May Heart be as Life to your Music -