Dear Cherished Interested’s,                                                                                           Oct 27-28th 2022

We’re still without Passports.  They are in capable Tanzanian hands and being taken to high immigration authority for renewal of our Visa’s, God willing.  .. Somebody knew that..

Local immigration came onto the Academy site as I was leaving for a meeting on Monday this week.  Four or so angry men wearing suits in a new Toyota Hilux.  I had pulled over between trees so the children could have right of way as they walked to the dining hall.  The herding teachers had to gather the children off to the side anyway as the Government pick-up was not waiting for anyone. 

I was headed out.  They were headed in.  My truck off to the side surrounded by little smiling children all happily high fiving “Babu” through his always open window.  The immigration men glared at the white guy who studiously ignored them speaking instead with those children and a brave teacher or two.  I left knowing that I was leaving Hilda very nearly alone in the office. 

We communicated as I went about tasks off-site.  Hilda had with her a very recent Tanzanian Mother, again, and cook who loves Hilda.  Hilda was also with the gardener and caretaker who looked after Hilda’s cats and things while we were gone.  They both love Hilda.  They may be young people but they are survivors with strong backbones and appreciate what Hilda does..  and how she does it.

It was good I was not there.  Once again they left cute little Grandmother Hilda mostly well enough alone.  As other staff arrived they took turns being questioned predominantly about me.  My experience working in the Washington State Park System taught me about petty authorities being the ones most vigorously puffed and self-professed.  Fortunately these immigration men do not carry firearms. 

I don’t know who I have offended, but given how evil it truly feels, even some of the children were concerned huddling close to Hilda’s little truck, I am glad to have offended evil no matter how difficult it makes life.  We must be doing something good if we’re still here doing it ..and without paying bribes. 

To be as completely fair as I can, though, we are unaccompanied missionaries.  We do not have the protection or overt sanctioning of any church organization.  The fact I was off to meet the East African Representative of an American Lutheran Denomination, remains unknown to immigration.  He too is a foreign national, from Kenya I believe with a Ugandan spouse and several children, and does not need hassle in his job.  But being unaccompanied leaves suspicion of large white males of European origin logically at the front of minds and hence efforts.

The local Church who know, trust and use us, are Tanzanian Nationals and simply ignore immigration.  They pray for government every Sunday but otherwise strive to stay as far away as possible.  Immigration is not likely to ever know us in any deep way.  Local folks don’t trust them, don’t share about us with them, and don’t want them to know us. 

I have a helper who used to run one of the larger regions of the Tanzanian National Parks and one time almost Catholic Priest who smiles and calls me “father”, every time we meet.  He does this slightly louder if anyone else is around whom he wants to share me with.  Another precious local one choosing to be in the difficult thick of things.  Yes, he gets paid, however here where everything is paid for in advance whether there are results or not, he has consistently said he would tell me how much to pay before starting but doesn’t seem to get around to it until after results come in.  Yes, it leaves you on pins and needles, especially as he takes flights to the Nation’s Capital to handle things high enough up the food chain that higher salaries are freed, somewhat, of the graft that lower salaries are often not free of.

It’s complicated.  It’s hard.  Your Prayers keep us with people who care.  Thank You!!

I tend not to use too many names because only I should take any fallout from my communicated impressions.  But, if you would pray for those many dear ones you have prayed us among to serve and be served by it would mean the world.  Yes the world, our little world here and the connections around the world from here. 

That un-named East African Representative has read my hopes of having pastors and missionaries come for training here among some of the world’s deepest endemic poverty.  Once again I have convinced an individual, like two North American Bishops before, but, a cog in the machine.  Please pray for protection from the mechanisms of religiosity that Jesus faced.  They still live in our precious systems of faith everywhere and are tremendously jealous for the status quo, whatever that is. 

Yes, I have been given yet another brother in this young father too.  Did I mention that I did not have to read my proposal to him in person?  This very busy man took active interest reading it from what he was sent on-line and then chose to communicate on his own that he was convinced and would research further.  Did I mention that the connection was made, the meeting insisted upon, and I was taken to it by, a local Tanzanian Pastor of the local Tanzanian Lutheran Church?   

When we strive to not pour presumptions on those of us without the narrowing constraints of much higher education and it’s often divorcing influence from whole groups of God’s kids, we may get a chance to inspire each other into something more like growing living things.  I’m sure that sentence will earn me a lecture or two. 

Going to put shoes on and go talk briefly through an instructor with some littles about God.  Then I think we may even sing.  Hilda will be here soon to collect her long time problem..

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When walking from Hilda’s little house to her office we pass behind the big dining hall.  I was in transit last week and my well–used/much-abused hearing detected being called.  I looked over to see four of the little Islamic girls twirling and waving and wanting Babu to wave back. 

They know I am a Christian missionary.  The Staff know too.  The school leadership tolerates and some even like us.  Still, those little girls didn’t call me Baba/father or Mchungaji/pastor or Evanjelisiti/evangelist or Christian or Mzungu/white guy or mzee/old..  they called for Babu/grandfather, the same name all folks around here use.

Do I self-sensor when I teach?  Today, we left out one song.  It will be back.  They got a blessing made with the sign of the cross though and the sung part I wrote years ago from a prayer based on the blessing in Numbers Chapter Six. 

I am not excused.  I am not excused from including everyone I can into my day.  Am I perfect?  No..  Long ago working with people I did not choose in various occupations I had to come to grips with the fact that even folks with a Christian label may not feel like family, may be challenging, even difficult.  I am not excused. 

When others are imperiled I dust off my sandals and stay away.  If only I am imperiled then I am not excused. 

I am a sibling to everyone in the universe by virtue of being created in a common creation.  I am a sibling to everyone on the planet by virtue of being created for life here on the earth we have in common.  I am a sibling to everyone of this point in time by virtue of being created for it too.  I am a sibling of anyone of any faith that does not imperil anyone but me. 

I am also a sibling of those of the other Abrahamic traditions because The God of Sarah, mother of Abraham’s second born son, and the God of Hagar, mother of Abraham’s first born son took care of and loved both women and their sons.  That is the same God who sent his own son to die and through that adopt me into Abraham’s star-filled sky numbers and God’s own eternity with him.  I am not excused. 

Jesus is not an excuse.  Jesus is a challenge.  Should I be stupid and un-discerning?  No.. 

But I would never have the one on one conversations with people of other Abrahamic traditions that I have, giving trusted testimony because they knew me, I had been open, vulnerable, and walked through tough stuff with them too if I was sure that I was excused.  Something about sinners and prostitutes going into forever before me and my excuses just might keep me awake to hope for others.  Even those who have some violent, merciless siblings. 

Hagar’s children, Sarah’s children, God made them all.  We barbarians adopted in by God-self on the cross?  Aren’t we born of the worst violence?  Violence against Jesus?  The hands may have been the hands of the time, but the need is still mine, and yours too.

But they don’t believe Jesus is the Son of God!  Then what are we waiting for?  They’re family..  If no one else is imperiled, there really are no excuses.  Jesus died for me.  Can’t I be willing to walk with a sibling?

Please Pray for me as somehow I am sure that my many excuses exclude truly horrendous numbers leaving Abrahams night sky of numbers far darker than intended.

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Also please continue to Pray for:

Gratitude for Travel mercies for Hilda and I.. 

Gratitude for our time in the Pacific Northwest and over to Colorado for those dear children and grandchildren who miss us and whom we are overjoyed to have had time with.

Makumira Secondary School, my brilliant helper Elisha’s school, is 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 –

Visa situation, crunch time..  We are now without our passports as we must trust them to locals who try to keep us from much assumed-bribery-associated-with-wealthy-white-visitors and impoverished civil servants -

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 –

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..

If we should ever cross your mind, even if we are strange and confusing, just grunt, crumple us up and throw us at God.  That is where we need to be.. 

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

Dear Cherished Interested’s, Oct 14th 2022



Hilda and I just repacked our grab and go.. Some call bug out bag.. The difference for our use is that the only food is a small pouch of individually wrapped ginger chews which hopefully have enough sugar to help with a low blood sugar event. It is first aid supplies, simple meds, Hilda’s stethoscope and BP cuff, and electronic BP cuff too, needles and thread, scissors(2 sizes) tweezers, bandages, gauze, tape.

There is no water and the only the chews. These items to facilitate what we may find. Faith needs to provide food and water and as those are part of everyone’s priorities and there is still an old school love for sharing here, where we are caring for people, people will be caring for us. There is also the greatest of suffering reduction technology in the bag. Nothing has been more beneficial for restoring hope in the face of suffering in our experience here than The Bible. Some say the version in the bag is a paraphrase, but generic or brand name of choice makes no difference when pain and despair has swept over a life.

It is good to pack with others in mind. We packed ourselves with our children and grandchildren in mind for our month among them hoping and praying that taking only what we could bring, ourselves, would be enough there in the wealthiest nation in human history. Yes, we know that there are problems in the US. One of those problems is comfortable with all means of excluding willing hands and calling it safety or public health or what our insurance or legal representatives recommend.

Bottom line is that our children have and are doing amazing work, not one shirker among them. We could not be doing what we are doing if it weren’t for those children steadfastly parenting their own children. We are now again where children of all ages need not just who we are but a deeper fullness of what we are. Where there is so much endemic and severe want even limited we are helpful. Pray that we cling to our limits and go wherever taken anyway knowing that God does fill gaps and explode limits.

Affirmation came on our second morning back, headed into town with a friend who drives people around to make a living. Gathering funds so I could get the little truck out of the shop and have it took me to find someone who was not where she was expected to be. She had gone to hospital. The day had changed.

Found the hospital, no, almost nothing like what is in mind back home. Walking to the ward, a ward I have visited before, and a soft sound got my attention in time to see a shadow break from the bigger shadow of the doorway to come initially like an apparition floating and flying. The day can be very bright here just below the equator and a beautiful dark one fully draped in dark dress can seem to be floating when they choose light shoes.

The apparition flew quickly along and the around a corner of a fence to race straight at me. The older sister to one I tutor in English had her arms wide and swept slightly back, her face full of joyful surprise, head nodding slightly left to right in a silly bobbing that my own head had to reflect back. This one hears and understands much English but coyly refuses to speak it herself. Her mouth was in a fully open smile and as that head bobbed slightly back in forth in that headlong dance her eyes never left mine.

First one to leap into my arms that day. No time to waste, after happy squeaks my hand was taken and I was ushered to a familiar bench inside the building but just outside a familiar drawn curtain in what passes for an emergency department. Waiting and patient are not isolated any more than that. After a time the apparition came out and collected me to the other side of the curtain.

The patient is someone whose character we all know and admire. The first to put everyone else first. The first to wrack her heart and mind for and then tirelessly work solutions for others problems, here problems are often life threatening. She is a first responder, without knowing what that is nor how it is lived where there are resources, who is steadfast with those in need. She is quick to laugh in the face of the impossible. Equally fast to weep when time allows and with someone she can trust. She will stay up into the night in prayer seeking after what she should be doing for and with those around her.

Severe migraine flattened this irrepressible bundle of energy. She was flat out on her side on the tired and too familiar gurney breathing stertorously face pinched up by discomfort yet to receive any effective management. I bent at the waist to look patiently at those closed eyes about a foot from my own and waited, praying. After a short time in the silence the eyes tiredly drug themselves open finding mine. Fearlessly the shaking eyes locked on to mine and assurance was given, silent prayer was shared.

No she couldn’t leap. She is a powerful woman though and in spite of severity taking balance, mindfulness, and leaving only pain in a wracked head and pain in a wracked and wracking body, she pushed herself up with one hand and with the other drew me in to where her anguished face could bury itself against my chest. How strong is this one? I am still 300 lbs and as I steadied her, her arms clinging tightly, her wracking shook me. Second proud and strong one in my arms that day.

Sad thing, but part of the place is that local folks running hospitals don’t always regard the pain of other local folks as relevant or necessarily something that they should do anything about. Limited resources means that unless death is near, treatment is most often nothing. Here this diligent one lay quaking, too strong to be near death. A woman accompanied by another woman only brought there after all else failed.

The attending Doctor simply monitored but did nothing until a white person was brought inside the curtain. The fact that I am still tall, large, and looked briefly at him with lifted eyebrow sent him from his chair in a flurry to collect pain management from some hoard. He returned while she was still collecting energy from her place on my chest. Eventually I was able to lay her back on that tired old gurney her eyes closed.

There is no need to berate those who do the best they can with what little there is so when the moment came the attending Doctor got a very sincere Thank you in Swahili from me, nothing more. His chin lifted slightly and any alarmed disquiet flowed out of him. No one asked for money, I pulled out a little and gave it to the proud one on the gurney out of sight. She runs her own business and this doctor needs reminding that she is her own person. I was studiously looking out the window.

After time the apparition found water, meds were taken. We waited. After an hour or so at the window listening to the breathing return some to normal, I bent to inquire if she was able to walk yet or if she wanted me to carry her. I had the hired car for the day and was not leaving until she was ready to go home. Her normal response would be to tell me to go that she was fine and did not want to bother me. My second morning back, we walked out of the hospital slowly together.

I spend a lot of time looking out windows and let things happen among locals that wouldn’t necessarily happen had I not been there to unintentionally disturb the status quo. My driver for the day is the only woman professional driver we have met here. She was hence perfect to help with other women. She took two of the kittens, from the litter born in Hilda’s little house, home to her son and has helped us on Sundays when the truck is down attending Sunday schools to sing with the littles.

The ride home had me looking out the car window while eager Swahili and Meru pulse fed around inside the Van. I guessed right. These three women were discovering how they were related, a common great-great-grandmother. Good.. family is the only safety net here. Women not only bring all living humanity into the world but fight to keep us all going.

We got her home. Out of the house came my 14 year old Sunday translator. He flew into my arms nearly knocking me out as the top of his head drove my jaw up and back into my ears. He is too tough to cry about the top of his head, and I’m too tough to cry about my teeth and ears so as I staggered around trying not to fall over we laughed hilariously.

Laughter no matter what is a good choice. And, wow.. a trinity of overtly sincere hugs.

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More affirmation.. We returned to Tanzania to find my cousin and his spouse serving a short term though powerful mission month within easy driving distance, if you ignore google maps. We are the same age, with the same number of children and indomitable dynamic brilliant wives. We last saw each other at funeral of my cousins mother. To reconnect after so long, decades, in Tanzania so far from their home in Wisconsin and our former spot, Washington, and share time to hear their uber-full mission month and talk about everything the night before they flew home... God loves to blow minds.

The children’s books that one daughter sent with us for children so far away and so out of sight started finding homes our second evening back too. I pray that one day this record and reminder of her giving will touch that powerful precious sending heart like my grandmothers letters from her time in mission touch mine to this day. Letters to her daughter from the grandmother my precious daughter is named after. Our children are busy-busy-busy. Keep it up. WE love and are so proud of you!

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Also please continue to Pray for:

Gratitude for Travel mercies for Hilda and I..

Gratitude for our time in the Pacific Northwest and over to Colorado for those dear children and grandchildren who miss us and whom we are overjoyed to have had time with.

Makumira Secondary School, my brilliant helper Elisha’s school, is 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 –

Visa situation, crunch time.. We are now without our passports as we must trust them to locals who try to keep us from much assumed-bribery-associated-with-wealthy-white-visitors and impoverished civil servants -

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 –

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..

If we should ever cross your mind, even if we are strange and confusing, just grunt, crumple us up and throw us at God. That is where we need to be..

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