Dear Cherished Interested’s,


--- WE HAD IT IN TIME FOR EASTER ---

Asante Sana Mungu = Thanks very much, God.

Thanks very much all of you who talk with God about such as us.

Hilda braved the walk to the big road. Then she braved the cheek to jowl ride in the Dahla-dahla into Arusha. Then braved the street Taxi from the big road in to the Pharmacy, yes, we’re old and need our stupid pills. We also enjoy immensely conversations of merit with our pharmacist in which trust enables covering territory denied caring concerned discussion back home. There is still that freedom here to earnestly discuss hard things that others are confronting and how to live a loving response into where they find themselves.

Then Hilda braved the bajaji, three wheel motorcycle scooter, ride across town and down to where the truck was having its last leaky fuel injector line fiddled into dry functionality. I always end up paying more than our Tanzanian keepers would like us to pay for taxi’s and bajaji’s but.. it was Easter.. and it was Hilda’s first time in a bajaji.. and the driver, who collected us in front of the mosque, happily wished us “ Pasaka njema” = Happy Easter.

The Dahla-dahla was less than 40 cents each and took us the furthest distance by far –

The taxi was just a little over 2 dollars total for the shortest distance covered –

The bajaji cost the same as the taxi but took us much further. Hilda and I sat side by side on the bench seat behind the driver for this her first journey in such conveyance. I leaned forward to jabber occasionally, back and forth, with the driver in my extremely poor pidgin Swahili and his much less pidgin, if still halting, English. He got us to the shop and our little truck.

We went back into town to the fuel depot with the very best reputation for selling unadulterated and clean fuel, then left managing no hungry traffic cop entanglements along the way. Hilda’s little truck got back here with us both late last Saturday afternoon. It was raining and as we pulled through the gate we saw Heriheti all bundled heading for the gate to leave and go home. We collected both our house key and Heriheti, turned around, and took her home to Nkoaranga up on the mountain.. it was raining and .. Easter.., you know.. We then checked on our Sunday morning, Easter morning, helpers. It was brief and we still had daylight but the roads were filling rapidly with people on a Saturday night.

We had three helpers Easter morning. They were dressed, ready, packed, and had consumed first breakfast before we arrived. There were no boarders at Silverleaf Academy as all had gone home for the holiday, we checked Sunday morning just in case anyway. We fed a hearty breakfast of juice and fortified local free range eggs, eggs with deep dark rich yolks, to our young helpers then headed back up the mountain to The Children’s Village for Sunday School and text study there. Then we fed our helpers a very hearty late lunch and dropped them with friends for an overnight a few villages away.

Yes, Easter was good where we are. We remember and pray for all-you-all too. Peace for the troubles. Grace for the mistakes. Gratitude for each and every one of you; and Christ’s love reign like rain.

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Hilda and I are both re-learning to go to the right side of the truck by repeatedly going to the wrong side.

Hilda’s little truck built for right hand driving after a long life of left hand driving. It must be humorous to watch. It is for me when Hilda leads the way to the truck and goes unerringly to the door her driver needs. We just roll our eyes at each other and continue our abbreviated Chinese fire drill(ask an old one).

The earthly powers who happily use what Hilda brings have insisted that she take a day off each week. They have insisted and insisted.. She relented this week taking Thursday off, except for Bible Study praise time on the green in front of the school. We quickly reviewed the days of creation with songs they have learned to celebrate each one. They are happily loud enough singers to be heard all across the campus. We then read after the 7th day in Genesis Chapter 2 through verse 15 which speaks of our intended purpose to till and guard The Garden of Eden. We then sang Head, Shoulders, knees, and toes and reminded ourselves that we are made with those things to use in the garden of our world. That when we go to school and fill our gifts called our minds we are doing Gods work of learning how to be the stewards God made us to be.

Today, Friday, I was up the mountain at the volunteer house(reduced cost housing for folks coming to volunteer and serve the NGO’s connected with it). I got there about 9:am and had about 90 minutes tutorial with the brilliant young woman who spoils the volunteers by cleaning, cooking, and taking care of them. Tutorial was at the request of the bosses and affirmed by the young woman. Tutorial was in English. She wants to gain more comfortable fluency for those she cares for.

Friends.. Hilda is the teacher. I have to teach with what I have. We started with my bi-lingual, Swahili/English, Good News Bible. We took turns reading from her favorite Bible Story in Exodus Chapter 2, the story of Moses. She read in English, I helped with pronunciation and answered questions about specific words. Pronouns are problematic but handy short-cuts to tell a story relating events and things to specific people. Here he/she/her/him are all interchanged. What am I to do? We worked on pronouns and the associated conventions of their use as intended for the translation in front of us. To use the current North American pronoun usage/changing conventions would be cruel and disrespectful of the translators’ intents.

I spent lots of time apologizing for English having extra letters that are often silent, that Standard English vowels are not continental European nor African vowels, that the very same pronoun can refer to two or more different people and that must be gleaned from context. She laughed every time I apologized. Then I read the Swahili aloud, with her patient help and she didn’t laugh at me once.

The Common English Bible, a translation from 2011 that I brought with me, was what we tried next. She is so fluent already I wanted to try that and she did really very well. I left that English only Bible with her and her homework is to read that Bible as much as she can taking notes of all her questions along the way. Any questions that can’t wait she can put to her volunteers, one American, one Canadian, one Argentinian/Brit/UK. Next class is next week Friday.

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Women here often face difficulty that hopefully even our grandmothers did not face. That said, too many women, even at home in the U.S., face harsh consequences to choices they have taken or choices that have been forced upon them. The following desperately needs you all.

Prayer needed in support of a brave mother of three. She had the very real courage of going to the police this week to file paperwork against her husband. Her abusive and often drunk husband who struck her head violently and repeatedly, last Friday night, with a blunt object while she was sleeping.

So strong and indomitable, she managed to regain consciousness, gather her children, and get to her mother-in-law. She has not had significant sleep since the attack. She prefers to be at work even with severe head pain and signs of not only a concussion but a contra-coup. Yes this is extremely confidential as her in-law family does not approve of her choice to finally start to document a pattern she herself has tried to keep quiet, so no name will be given. God knows who you are praying for. Thank You so much.

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Ugly and dark is there, we can’t get away from it if we dare to care. God never lets it end there though.

Easter is about family, our family, and what God has done for our family’s emancipation, voracious growth, and loving inclusion. Adoption is a beautiful and amazingly key piece of that.

Evidence not of abuse, but of adoption is what I shared recently with my eldest brother. The Mama’s at the Children’s Village had a wonderful tear filled laugh about three weeks ago. They decided that Hilda and I needed naming. Hilda is named Ngakisali (wife of Kisali). I have been named Kisali.

These names are proof of adoption in that they are Meru tribal names. I had to tell my big-bio-brother because my Meru name translates as big brother. They all think it is wonderfully funny that I should have that name. So, Sundays now, I am called Babu (grandfather) and Mchungaji Kisali (Pastor BIG brother).

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What to Pray for:

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 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 –

For our health to stay ahead of whatever is before us –

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 each and every one of you –

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

Prayers, Your Prayer, 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 -

For Easter 2022..

We live among dragons here.. -moja-

Grandmother Hilda’s little lions fly up curtains to perch and bounce across curtain rods. They jump into corners pushing off the adjoining walls convinced they can fly up to be with those dragons sitting at the tops of the walls. Those dragons who sit upside down on the ceiling too.

Dragons live in Grandmother Hilda’s house, on Grandmother Hilda’s walls, on Grandmother Hilda’s ceilings. Dragons live in the vents that let hot air out through the top of each outside wall.

Dragons live outside Grandmother Hilda’s house too. That is often where the little lions will catch one.

When a scuttling little dragon mistakenly makes its way down near to the ground, then a little lion will win. Pouncing, snatching a wriggling morsel of dragon up, to then stride proudly growling away so all know. So all know that particular little lion is Saint George vanquishing its foe. Unlike Saint George, however, the striding little lion is the one to take refuge in the nearest cave-like place. Also unlike Saint George, in the safety of that cave-like place is where that proud little lion consumes its vanquished.

Grandmother Hilda’s two little lions each have a name. You knowing those names would normally be unimportant as lions natures tend to be most similar when observed from a distance. However these are Grandmother Hilda’s little lions who run between walking legs, or race ahead silently to guard or instead follow Grandmother Hilda yowling as she leaves to go do other non-little-lion-centric things.

Because they are so rapt with themselves, and hence are rapt with Grandmother Hilda and her possession of food and watering bowl filling magic, Grandmother Hilda’s little lions are around enough for one to perceive each little lions’ peculiar individual characteristics.

The smaller one possessed of more literal color is Maureen.

More independent than her larger brother from the same litter, she is also significantly more intelligent and has the simple magic of being able to become invisible. She can choose to become invisible to whomever she wants to be invisible to. Less and less frequently does she choose to be invisible to Grandmother Hilda. Grandmother Hilda has consistently searched for, found, brought home and comforted little lion Maureen after a particularly trying, difficult or failed quest after a conquest.

The one entity consistently in little lion Maureen’s life, whom she chooses most often to be invisible to, is her big brother of the same litter. He can wander about Grandmother Hilda’s house yowling, completely clueless to Maureen’s quiet invisible presence just outside the curtain. Maureen resides there outside the curtain roosting upon a throne-ledge of mortar just outside the window bars designed to keep the monkeys out.

With Maureen’s ears at half-mast she will look Grandmother and any other person imploringly in the eye back and forth as if to say..” My big brother of the same litter is so stupid, he can’t see me.. I don’t want him to see me.. please don’t pick him up and show him where I am..”

So, we don’t.. unless the yowling gets intolerable. By then the yowling has likely become intolerable to Maureen as well so with disgust she relents of her solo retreat. This she does by letting herself become visible again.

Maureen often becomes visible again after jumping through the window bars designed to keep the monkeys out, and back inside, and silently down to the floor to sneak up on her big brother of the same litter. Other times she stays hidden behind the curtain out on the ledge until we have poked the yowling big brother of the same litter out through those window bars designed to keep the monkeys out. We set yowling brother out onto that very throne-ledge of mortar with Maureen. Maureen’s throne-ledge upon which many languid hours on many languid days have been shared by the two of them. Somehow the brother is never able to find her there when she doesn’t want to be found.

Her magic of invisibility is powerful.

It would be easier to just let you know the name of little lion Maureen’s big brother of the same litter.

Little lion Maureen’s big brother of the same litter is named Ronald. Ronald is two toned to Maureen’s three. This is of no matter to their character but is gift to Grandmother Hilda when they are far off and Grandmother Hilda wants to know which little lion she is looking at.

Grandmother Hilda walks most mornings from Grandmother Hilda’s house to another house that has become an office. That office is busy with many people doing many things. Grandmother Hilda toils there at writing lesson plans and experiments for other teachers to teach to children. Grandmother Hilda does many other things too. However, Grandmother Hilda is the only one in that office who can write lesson plans and experiments and then teach those to other teachers so they can teach children.

Writing about Grandmother Hilda’s daily walks and what she does on the far side of those walks might not seem important, and it might not be. It might be a tangent, something connected but not part of any central common purpose. It might be a distraction to avoid talking about more magic.

One can often get compelled by Grandmother Hilda’s many magical ways though. That is part of Grandmother Hilda’s magic. Magic she doesn’t openly acknowledge she has. Grandmother Hilda is many things. One of those many things is a scientist and as a scientist she does not see magic. There are times Grandmother Hilda doesn’t seem to be able to see much at all. Wait a moment though, take Grandmother Hilda away from her lesson plans and experiments, and let her be something more. She can see magic then. People can be funny that way. People can be wonderful that way.

Anyway, the little lions named Maureen and Ronald can be identified from afar by Maureen’s three colors to Ronald’s two. This lack of a third color does not make Ronald any less intelligent than his little sister of the same litter Maureen. Ronald simply is less intelligent than Maureen as part of his character. Ronald is bigger than Maureen and sometimes is too strong, too rough, when they tumble and fight.

Ronald can be a bully. Maureen will share her throne-ledge of mortar behind the curtain and just outside the window bars designed to keep the monkeys out. Maureen will groom and clean Ronald most meticulously there and allow Ronald to groom and clean her in return.

However Ronald, who has a bit of being a bully as part of his character, consistently refuses to share his throne. Ronald’s throne is inside. Ronald’s throne is in the middle of Grandmother Hilda’s house. That throne is between the floor all walk on and those dragons he dreams he can fly up to.. high on the walls and ceilings of Grandmother Hilda’s house.

Ronald’s most selfish throne is the bathroom sink.

The Bathroom Sink sits beneath the long mirror gifted to Grandmother Hilda by one of those who cares deeply for Grandmother Hilda living her gathering recent days so far from where she has spent nearly the entirety of her living days before. That gift of long mirror is nested in simple, almost invisible, wire lattice attached to the narrow tiled wall of an open hallway leading to both the tiled shower, with its own door, and the tiled commode stall, with its own door.

Ronald’s bathroom sink throne is therefore perfectly situated in the center of Grandmother Hilda’s house. Ronald’s bathroom sink throne is perfectly situated in that tiled hallway to gather all the sounds from inside Grandmother Hilda’s house and all the sounds coming in all the windows from outside the house. Ronald shows attention to these details with ears in fluttering motion even with closed eyes. The little lion Ronald is not as intelligent as his sister Maureen, but, he isn’t completely stupid.

Ronald guards his throne vigorously. When one approaches to wash their hands Ronald is unmoving until several seconds after the water is turned on. Then finally, soaked thoroughly, Ronald jumps down in disgust and waggles away unable to decide whether wet paws or soaked coat of fur need shaking first. Ronald is big and sometimes too rough, but his magic isn’t being smart.

Maureen is very smart though and can use her magic of invisibility to hide her orange patches and thus do things that Ronald gets blamed for. No single little lion can get into all the trouble Ronald gets into.

Just this morning Grandmother Hilda had to bring Ronald back to her house from half way to the office. She carried Ronald into Grandmother Hilda’s bedroom and shut the bedroom door leaving Ronald shut inside. The bedrooms are the only rooms with mosquito wire inside the window bars designed to keep the monkeys out. Those windows try to keep both monkeys and mosquitos out, and hence little lions, in. There Ronald yowled and yowled. After speaking softly to Ronald from outside her bedroom window on her way again to the office, Grandmother Hilda paid no heed and carried on with her day.

Ronald, of course, made trouble for himself by climbing the curtains to the windows where he climbed the mosquito wire. Ronald has been doused by water in the sink. Ronald has been repeatedly doused by water for climbing the mosquito netting around and over Grandmother Hilda’s bed. Sometimes there is no time for water. Ronald got bonked on the head until the thought of returning to the floor abruptly became his own.

Then the door to Grandmother Hilda’s bedroom was left open. Ronald appeared in Grandmother Hilda’s living-room almost immediately to ask forgiveness and repeatedly butt that same bonked head into the hand that bonked it to seek petting and consolation. Purring ensued. After which walking across the computer keyboard and swatting at the computer mouse was the next patch of self-inflicted trouble Ronald got in to.

Or was it Ronald at all? I didn’t see Maureen’s orange patches anywhere during the morning’s transgressions, not on the little lion making trouble nor on any other little lion. Were Maureen’s orange patches made invisible? At least one third of the troubles must be Maureen making her orange patches invisible so she can get even with Ronald for being the bully. What else is invisibility magic for?

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We live among dragons here.. -mbili-

There are dragons buzzing over the places of water outside and once one was sitting on the clothesline just outside the back door, the kitchen door. It seemed untroubled by the laundry being hung up.

These, of course, are different magical dragons from the ones that the little lions cry up at from their place on floor, or couch, or table, or counter top, or refrigerator, or curtain, or curtain rod.. or even the top of a swinging open or closing door.

These magical flying dragons have lots more eyes.

They also have four wings. They also have beautiful iridescent colors. Science says these dragons are much older and conquered the earth long before the brownish scuttling ones the little lions so want to swat, pounce upon, and eat. These dragons were magically in flight over the earth one hundred million years before the scuttling ones who hide behind the curtains, couch, refrigerator and stove top popping out at just the right time to make Grandmother Hilda jump.

Grandmother Hilda’s magic has her little lions adoring Grandmother Hilda. No wonder they want to slay the scuttling dragons. Outside Maureen and Ronald leap into the air trying desperately to scoop the beautifully colored older magical dragons with many eyes and four wings into their longing mouths.

Ronald eats many things. Ronald has fought and eaten a praying mantis almost half as long as Ronald. Ronald has eaten scuttling dragons bigger than that praying mantis, and then thrown them up. Little lion Ronald ate a shrew yesterday after throwing and chasing it around Grandmother Hilda’s house for over an hour. Ronald then threw it up too. Did I mention Ronald just isn’t that smart? He eats all of everything even the parts that make him sick, and he eats the dragons and shrews he catches too fast.

Perhaps throwing up is Ronald’s magic.

Maureen doesn’t seem to have that problem. Both little lions are dragon slayers. They chow down on crickets, flies, spiders, roaches, ants, depending upon variety, and even the rare millipede that doesn’t roll into a little fat Frisbee. Millipede Frisbees are too fun to swat around. Ronald is brave enough to eat a praying mantis that is trying to eat him back.

Ronald is also brave enough to run into any type of trouble when Maureen cries out for help. One night he leapt through the window to confront whatever Maureen was calling for help over. After quite a noisy and loud kafuffle outside, Ronald returned to Grandmother Hilda’s bed completely soaked in mud.

Ronald was taken to his bathroom sink throne and washed thoroughly. Grandmother Hilda is glad to report Ronald was only covered in mud, nothing more troublesome. Grandmother Hilda is also proud to report that her little lion Maureen also battles and eats, without throwing up, little snakes.

Grandmother Hilda’s little lions eagerly do battle with and eat those things that might make Grandmother Hilda’s day even more filled with jumping. That should make up for the little lions both exercising the magic of making Grandmother Hilda jump on occasion too.

Grandmother Hilda is thankful she hasn’t caught sight of her little lions catching any of those older magical dragons with four wings, iridescent colors, and many eyes. Grandmother Hilda thinks they are beautiful. Besides, Grandmother Hilda explains, dragons eat mosquitos. Mosquitos like Grandmother Hilda. Grandmother Hilda, whose much magic includes loving almost everything and everyone, does not like mosquitos.

We live among dragons here.. -tatu-

You live among dragons too..

What dragons do you live among?

What needs slaying?

What makes you jump out of shock or fright?

What makes you leap with joy?



        Grandmother Hilda’s little lions have adopted her.

        They teach us about being adopted by the greatest Lion ever, 

        The Lion of Judah.

        The mightiest and most patient Lion willing to always go with 

        us into danger.

        There to battle and destroy that which darkens life.



        We might be more intelligent.

        We might be bigger.

        We might be more colorful.

        We might get into more trouble.



        Our magic may be invisibility.

        Our magic may be throwing up.

        Our magic can be anything.


Are we, in turn, little lions adopting other people too?

        Do we notice their dragons?

        Do we notice the dragons that make them jump out of shock or 

        fright?

        Do we notice the dragons that make them Leap for Joy?



Our magic can be anything.. anything.. anything..


For grandchildren, and their parents, everywhere whom we love more than breath..

Dear Cherished Interested’s,


Computer is back.. again.. It stays turned on now and will turn back on after being shut off. Much slower though, but it should still serve a purpose. I’m slower these days too.

Last Blog I was heading to the airport. Got there and most the way back then Hilda’s little truck made a noise that required me to pull over and turn it off. Still awaiting its return from the shop I towed it to.

The Taxi for Sunday costs about as much as fueling the little truck for a full week worth of movement. That is why we have the little truck. That and the Children’s Village has a car, a Toyota VX, a Dahla dahla (minibus), a piki piki (motorcycle) and a Coaster (larger Toyota School Bus) but no truck of any size. We’ve hauled desks, chairs, water, soda, food, propane tanks(full), plumbing supplies, etc. Its utility in addition to seating five in safety belts means it is missed by more than just Hilda and I.

Safety belts.. Not North America. A few weeks back, after a birthday party, we transported five adults in the back seat, after dark, into Arusha where we dropped them at various locations along the big road. No one was wearing a safety belt except for Hilda and I in front. All were happy, laughing, and talking right along in local free shorthand Swahili/Meru that still goes too fast, I have learned, for even most seasoned foreigners who have lived here for years. Ladies often prefer to sit in the back because they choose to skip the safety belt back there so as to better take care of their clothing, or so they claim.

They are all so very young.

This is a world of pedestrians. Though pedestrian is too strong a word in that it implies an understanding of other modes of transportation. I think I can safely say that most rarely, if ever, travel in a car. Some can afford to pay for rides on motorcycles. Some can afford the Dahla dahla that cruise the big road between communities. Fewer can afford taxi’s and then only as a crowd of folks jammed in with goods to be taken to market, or to a funeral, perhaps a wedding.

Most who operate motor vehicles likely purchased a license, to show when waved over by traffic police, without the impediment of training. So folks who are unfamiliar with motor vehicles, unfamiliar with trying to see people on foot after dark, unfamiliar with anything to do with operating, controlling or avoiding people on foot with a motor vehicle, are operating most motor vehicles. Everything is operated by people who are most familiar with travelling on foot. Most travel by foot and are clueless about motor vehicles.

This changes everything. Firstly walkers don’t understand why they shouldn’t walk in the middle of the road or the middle of a lane. After dark, especially a busy Saturday night, they do walk in the middle of the lane, middle of the road. They walk in family groups in their Sunday best going to prayer meeting or late Saturday service. They walk, beautiful dark skinned people, in their black dresses and fancy black shirts and slacks on their way to and from one local drinking establishment or another. They wander out into the road unknowingly, are shoved, or run into the road to have a pugilist exercise of dubious merit.

Forgive those on foot, because, they do not know what they are doing. Beware those on foot, because they are precious and do not have any protection from anything a driver may be operating.

Yes, I am pointing to Jesus’s last words from The Cross. There is a moment by moment reminder here of the consequences of not doing everything perfectly. The consequences of a miss-step by a walker can be permanent, harsh, and deep loss for families, friends, and a motor vehicle operator. Sin is like that.

So by necessity walking people must be monitored at all times. And their animals must be monitored at all times. Here, unlike the US where farmers are required to pay for damages resulting from their animals going wild from pasture or barn, motor vehicle operators must compensate for every cow, goat, chicken or dog that bursts out from ditches or undergrowth into their vehicles path.

As I understand it so far, there is no compensation for struck people. Perhaps the required insurance helps with medical expenses if a collision is survived. But when a human life is lost, the impression I have gotten is that there is no compensation possible. This is because the walker was allegedly responsible for themselves, unlike an animal. Further is a deep cognizance that a human life is priceless. That too is different from North America where judges and juries are required to find faults and demand compensations for anything and everything including those things beyond price.

Next in roadway pecking order is busses of any size. They serve the rare walking ones who can afford their use and hence operate as though they own the road. Given that they are most often full to bursting of people, it’s best to let them own the road, no matter how they are operated.

I was passed several weeks back by an empty articulated fuel tanker weaving through traffic like a motorcycle at a truly insane speed. Large trucks here have different slower speed limits. That does help overall yet results in much overtaking and passing by other motor vehicles and even other trucks. This means that your lane of travel is not your own.

Your lane of travel is shared with people on foot, their children and their animals. Your lane of travel is shared with motorcycles overtaking you, or not, on both sides of your motor vehicle. Your lane of travel is shared with other motor vehicles merging into the road way without thought or concern. Hopefully that merging is in the same direction your motor vehicle is travelling, however, this is not necessarily so. Your lane of travel is shared with other motor vehicles overtaking other on-coming traffic and you are expected to leave the lane if necessary and not kill any walking ones, their children or animals in the process. This is why Hilda has chosen not to drive her little truck here. That is what I am here for.

Hope that little truck gets back to us soon. It has been a long expensive three weeks.

That description of the current driving conditions here is a fair representation. I have the experience of having been here thirteen – fourteen years ago. The current driving conditions are hugely improved from that time. There are crosswalks everywhere. When people on foot choose to use them, traffic is required to stop and let them. Not so thirteen-fourteen years ago. Although I am convinced that nearly all traffic police have never received any training involved in operating a motor vehicle themselves, they travel by Dahla-dahla to where they wave traffic over and demand money, at least they are now.. there.

Traffic police assure that crosswalks are respected, if not repainted. Traffic police assure children wait in a group before entering a crosswalk and get safely to the other side of the road. Traffic police are people on foot and are at least there to look out for those like themselves. Not so thirteen-fourteen years ago.

Tanzania may still be near the bottom of the still developing world, but, Tanzania has been improving itself in very real ways. When I am required to teach about driving here, I start with the massive improvement undertaken by this poor country in that too long, yet short, time I was gone.

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Two Sundays ago I did preach in a rural church for Pastor Lazarus. Last minute Pastor Lazarus was called elsewhere. So I had the joy of an older gentleman translator who, now retired and working his farm back in TZ, is brilliant enough to have received his economics degrees in Wisconsin and Minnesota. Together we were one presenter. How much of that is this man’s brilliance, and how much is The Holy Spirit and what difference that could possibly make, I don’t know. It was a joy. It let me come to understand something I wasn’t so consciously aware of. Awareness coming from seeing it also in my brilliant translator’s eyes.

That rural church is a building in progress like so many other preaching points here. Open on three sides, from the pulpit one is looking West, North and East over pews then open countryside. The Cross is above on the South wall behind the pulpit. South of that wall are three rooms without doors accessible from outside the worship space.

The East Pews were empty but for one young man sitting in the morning sun. The West Pews, in the morning shade, were full! Words were given me and I let them go. I took folks through the days scriptures and added another Gospel Reading along the way. I was given the ability to do this while looking everyone there in those full west pews each in the eye. No one turned away even when I challenged them. But for only one distracted older man, they all looked back.

When we were done I was aware of it in my translator/guides eyes. We had done well. We had done well in spite of me knowing I am not enough. I realized yet again that I am not alone in this teaching, proclaiming, challenging, job called preaching. I also realized that I am blessed and tried in these moments of preaching by knowing simultaneously that here I only have the attention of these precious people for a few minutes before I am gone, likely to never see them again. Further, that as I present scripture I present it to precious people who I could not be more in love with. I love them like my own children.

Since growing up on the farm and learning to work with and for my folks and Aunt and Uncle, siblings and cousins I have been working every job for the sake of love. Leaves one vulnerable in the worldly context and in retrospect I see that now. The world tried to teach me to work for money, position, even power. It disgusted me over and over. The farm and those precious relationships there taught me to work and work hard.. out of love. And, somehow, the impossible task of loving every person to their face and in their eye, so much that it aches, gets done. Nobody is enough. God help me, ever.

Last Sunday, English Service for worship, up the mountain to gather helpers, down to Silverleaf Academy for Sunday School at 10. Then up the mountain again to The Children’s Village for Sunday School there. Then Text study / preaching with the Mama’s of The Children’s Village.

My grandmother was there joyfully singing old hymns in African English to me. Matron is nearly ninety. She comes at least weekly to check the children’s health and teach about wellness and nutrition. She is a retired nurse from the local hospital. Like my grandmother on the farm Matron is petite, wiry and lean. Were she not gentle, the fire in her eyes would cut you without a single word. This is also like my grandmother on the farm. She is a breathtaking rare elder here who survives and thrives by choosing joy in the face of such deep hardship and want. Somehow presentation of last weeks scripture evoked dancing and singing to spring forth.

I not only have love.. I am given love.. We are given love..

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What to Pray for:

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 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 –

Gratitude for my dear friend and Brother in Christ who writes now with my dear friend Reverend Dr. Justin Mungure -

For our health to stay ahead of whatever is before us –

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 each and every one of you –

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

Prayers, Your Prayer, Even our groaning prayers makes 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 -

Dear Cherished Interested’s,

We took a break today.. After helping to move kitchen from the house next to us to the Old Headmasters house, a move into a mostly re-done now office space, we drove bravely into town. Just Hilda and I, no indigenous help nor facilitation until we got to the Pharmacy.

There the bright young Mohamad was glad to see us. Of Indian sub-continent lineage, he surprised his parents by leaving the UK after getting his Masters in Pharmacology and came home to Tanzania. Tanzania where his gifted brilliant mind is not told to fit inside a box that disengages it from people and what troubles them medically. He does not live to count pills and fill the prescriptions written out by others. He does those things but lives to listen and turn his internet of the mind to use for the faces with problems that come before him.

Hilda is mostly out of the woods now and thanks to Mohamad’s efforts a missing medication has been found and is now with us to complete what her body needs to function more optimally.

Too bad, almost, because they then made me talk about what I’ve been dealing with ineffectively and not talking about for two months, since Covid, to keep Hilda at the center of our medical efforts. Just broke fast after sunset and took a dose to hopefully handle what is likely amoebic dysentery. Maybe I should be tired.

Yes, since Ash Wednesday I’ve been fasting from supper to supper. This became more important after the dear young one whom I was supporting by fasting alongside became severely anemic and had to stop fasting entirely. I’ve been hungry before and this is no big deal. However, if amoebic dysentery is a culprit in my guts, getting rid or it will be a tremendous gift. Sorry to talk about such things but it’s in our weaknesses that these amazing relationships happen. Relationships that would never have happened if we had never had weakness and need.

So yes, I see Jesus in the face of a young, brand new father, Islamic Pharmacist. If I can just continue that and see Jesus in the angry, self-loathing, face of the Tanzanian Traffic Cop who gets paid so poorly that he must randomly wave cars to the side of the road and extort a few shillings so he and his family can eat. If I can just continue that and see Jesus in every face, even the teenage boys with nowhere to go and nothing to do and no food and only anger to make their skeletal forms matriculate through days of utter desperation. How dare I drive by in a car! How dare I have a car!

We are safe here. Their culture is a strong one that guides them even through such desperation demanding respect and most of those angry boys have a faith promising hope. May that hope be ever answered in those tiny ways that they can see but we have often become blind to.

We are safe here and we are as helpless to affect what Russia is doing than anyone else. We are sought out for our age and Nationality to question about what is going on in eastern Europe yet again. We encourage them as we encourage you as we encourage ourselves, to pray.

You all are amazingly good at that. How dare you Pray! How dare you know the God of our Prayers! Don’t stop! Pray without ceasing.. Ephesians..

Which brings me to a mistake from last time, Blog 20, Numbers Chapter 6.. Not numbers chapter 7..

We’ve been running 7 days a week for weeks. I’ve had no time to even start to work at getting into classes. I’ve had no time to go look for my deceased Maasai brother’s spouse. I’ve had no time to go find my deceased friend's business partner, someone who is my friend too. I’ve had no time for all those pieces I juggle.

I put them down and ask you to help me pray them. The work pushed into our downturned palms is beautiful, amazing and so very important. I sometimes find tears leaking out of these old eyes at the impossibility that I am being used in any way at all for it.

There is now an office close to the house, easy short walk, ribbon across the doorway cut by the Tanzanian Minister of Social Welfare Saturday. There is now staff to help wrangle the amorphous hopes and dreams of empowering those with the dirty hands of serving by serving them. A coalition of NGO’s helping each other with what each has found to work on the ground. Helping each other by sharing specialist staff none can afford on their own. A serving seen and valued by the imperfect government of a small nation of impoverished yet beloved people.

That is what the office is for. It is not our idea. We fell into it. Each heart we have been brought into contact with in that falling into this time and place is worth what we can give and do and not just because they are those who also do. That is Monday thru Saturday.

Sunday is English service at 7. Silverleaf Academy Sunday School for 40 or so boarding students at 10. The Small Things Children’s Village Sunday School for another 40 or so whenever we can get up the mountain. Then earnest anguished sharing of the weekly Lutheran church texts with those old and young women and young men who serve the littles at the children’s village..

They sang to me again this week. Those Mama’s of babies saved from death or perhaps even worse.

Sunday is my most important day because it is work that receives no financial compensation and no one else is doing it. Thank God for Hilda’s house and Hilda’s truck and the work we get to do that helps to bring that house and truck to where we have them for Sunday too.

Instead of attending English worship at the Cathedral this coming Sunday I am to preach at a village church by insistence of the pastor who will be at my side translating into whatever language he feels is best for those in attendance. Then the Sunday schools and time with Mama’s of the children of failed families. I wish and pray such challenge come into each of our lives. We come alive in ways we don’t know when we know we aren’t adequate yet walk into the work none the less.

Power just went out then after a bit came back.. who knows for how long.. No power last night.

I need to be on the road to the airport before sunrise tomorrow. Going to save this and get some sleep.

-------------------------------------------------------

What to Pray for:

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.. for the Army family in new quarters..

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 –

Gratitude for my dear friend and Brother in Christ who will write now with my dear friend Reverend Dr. Justin Mungure -

For our health to stay ahead of whatever is before us –

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 each and every one of you –

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

Prayers, Your Prayer, Even our groaning prayers makes 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 -

Dear Cherished Interested’s, February 27th 2022

Bible study at Silverleaf Academy is more like a midweek Sunday school or afternoon recess. 2:20 pm local western time for two Thursdays now Hilda and I have been on the large green in front of the primary school within easy sight and sound of the main office. There little ones are brought by teachers to hear from such as us. They come single file.

Last week they came cautiously. They came looking up at me, someone they have all waved and yelled happily at from afar, and carefully punched my outstretched fist. This week was all smiles, some getting a run-up before trying to knock my fist out of the park.

Last week it was the first day and the creation of light. We had them cup their hands tightly then look inside to see the darkness. Then had them lift a finger to let light leak into those cupped hands. We were then able to talk about how strong light is and how nothing darkness is. How light is strong, always wipes out darkness, and reveals everything we get to see. How darkness is lazy revealing only itself, nothing. Then we walked, about half of the school, 125-ish littles, single file sort of with them following hand signals they could see from my raised hands. We walked around the campus to see what light revealed to our eyes. Yes God knew what he was doing when inventing light first.

This week it was water being separated; what was above from what was below and dry land and water each in its place. I introduced someone else they all know from walking campus twice a week to observe classes, someone they all wave and yell hello happily at. I introduced Science Teacher Hilda to talk at an elemental level about where water is found outside them and inside them. Then we tried another campus walk but the noise level was too high to go among the classes. We went towards the dining hall away from the classes crossing water courses getting quiet to listen and watch. Then next to the dining hall where local farmers hands have cut irrigation trough’s we stopped to see what light and water together can do. That, of course, is grow food.

Two Sundays now we have had a Sunday School on Campus too. All ages, all littles, all boarding students both boys and girls, about 40 total, plus some keepers. We get help with Sunday School from a couple 13-14 year old boys and their slightly younger sister, last week. The younger of the two boys has been in TZ his entire life so is fluent in Swahili, Meru and English. He also shares words in Spanish with Hilda as we travel in a car from place to place. He stands with me in front and translates my English on the fly, stone cold on the fly with no prep, as the message for the littles comes to me from the scheduled readings.

Silverleaf boarding students get their time of teaching and lots of song, almost all their strong-hearted and full-throated doing. Hilda and I just get to watch most, Hilda leads some. They get a blessing then..

We drive up the hill to The Children’s Village and do it again with the littles living there, another 40-ish.

Something put on me from no where but God to do is to leave helpers in charge of the littles up at The Children’s Village, take my amazing young translator out to where the Mama’s are doing laundry for all those 40 kids and give a more adult message just for the Mama’s. Last week I sang a prayer/blessing setting I wrote several years ago for them. This week they sang “On Christ the Solid Rock I Stand” in Swahili to me. I was able to read out from Numbers 7: 23-25-ish that most ancient of blessings we all hear in service. This week I read it out in Swahili.

Full Sundays indeed. Then yesterday morning, Saturday, I got a call from Reverend Dr. Justin of the Cathedral in Usa River asking me to preach at 7:am for the English service today. We made it in spite of car trouble. We made a new Taxi driving friend, a rare woman who joined us at each Sunday school participating, helped us locate a full bottle of stove gas for the home of our helpers, and treated us and our helpers like gold. Her number is in my phone.

The house still has issues. The thoroughly paid for little truck has issues. We still have health struggles. There are demands out of nowhere like another Pastor I’ve written about before who brought to our door last night, Saturday night, a document in Tanzanian English and needed the logger to rewrite it into North American / European / standard English. He departed happy. We have another supper invite sometime. I am also trusted with his PHD Thesis too..

Blows ones mind. These folks who have only each other and the likes of us and are eager and thankful.

I wish everyone such company. Company of folks who have oversize beds made for you, oversize mosquito nets too. Folks who cook a huge meal for you after letting you take their children to help teach Sunday school. Folks who send you home in their own car so you can rest, they insist. Folks who know you will come day or night when called. Folks who won’t think twice when the need is there.

Folks who don’t care what you look like, what languages you speak or don’t speak, what school you have or haven’t attended. They only care that you care. Unbelievably that’s enough.

Please keep it up! Your prayers are breath-takingly effective. Your hearts are touching our Heavenly Fathers heart and I can’t be more overwhelmed with humility and deep deep gratitude.

-------------------------------------------------------

What to Pray for:

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.. for the Army family on the move..

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 –

For that person to write with my dear friend Reverend Dr. Justin Mungure -

For our health to stay ahead of whatever is before us –

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 each and every one of you –

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

Prayers, Your Prayer, makes 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 -

Dear Cherished Interested’s,

Different computer.. Mine is flying to the UK late this week for re-repair. Taken by willing hands traveling there.

A child was taken back to the hospital last night. This dear one has been having a very difficult post-tonsillectomy. Poorly prescribed pharmaceuticals leading to becoming unconscious and unresponsive midweek and a long night for all involved. Being prayed over by someone who scared her deeply, not me.

Beyond a CT Scan scheduled for today, I don’t know details from last night as I was intentionally left uncalled with the intention that I sleep.

Well, why write about a sick child? Why write about a driver who got partially crushed by the bus?

Firstly, you folks are praying ones. That is the biggest reason to include you.

It has been a rougher week than most.

Second is to explain how there was a timely blessing as part of these very recent and difficult events.

That is the arrival of Hilda’s little truck. I got it to the house determined to never drive here after dark.

I was almost in bed, in the dark, when the midweek call came about the child. It was a long night on some unfamiliar roads after dark with a good used but unfamiliar vehicle. Driving on the left not on the right.

The truck paid for itself the first night it was here. Then got loaned out to a family we work with whose car was unavailable. The truck was in the right place for another medical transport on Saturday. One of the drivers got pinned while working on the bus, thankfully the sternum was missed but broke a clavicle and dislocated a shoulder.

That imperfect little truck has mechanical/electrical issues but has been perfectly placed for two events that make its expense seem as nothing. It also has four doors. Four doors that I can get through and get seated beyond. Not everyone’s struggle but limits my options some. It also comes with good people.

It comes from a local family of gearheads. Gearheads who didn’t want to let the truck go but needed to so the owning son could keep his business going and get a smaller city car for his wife. The former owner’s father and I spent a morning comfortably talking about important things, even hard important things. This we did while the truck and another needed vehicle were worked on by the former owner’s brother. Yet another Islamic family who are glad we are here, glad we read scripture, glad we bought the truck, glad to consider us.. trusted.. friends.

A vital member of the vital inside team at the Children’s Village and beyond is heading to the UK this week. There was a death in the family there that needs time. While that member is gone, my imperfect efforts will be in higher demand.

A Teacher at Silverleaf Academy brought her two young children to our door so they could meet us. The people/staff of this Academy want Hilda and I to start a Sunday School. It may be on Saturdays. It may include the Islamic children too as Friday is their important day leaving them free for Saturday. We’ll see.

The best part in all this is we made ourselves visible. We made ourselves available. They had time to get to know us. All of the staff has gotten to know us not just the teachers. The littles who board on site have decided we are to be waved and smiled at. They chose to ask us. It is their idea.

The Spirit has been and is at work, we just need to say yes. When I tell them that the science teacher, they’ve seen active on campus taught Sunday School for 30 years, jaws drop. Again, that is longer than most folks here have been alive, 30 years is older than many get.

Yesterday, Sunday, we went to English service down in Usa River at the Cathedral. Then we drove up the hill to Nkoaranga and went to a Ki-Meru language service with three teenagers, born locally, adopted or in process together now as the children of a diverse family. A family glad for us to go to church with their children.

One of the boys is the one I stood up for at his Baptism and Confirmation those first couple weeks here. Children who have survived things no children should. Children who have been loved softly and firmly enough to trust again. Children whose survival comes with joy and empathy that lovingly, at times laughingly, comes out. It is unconscious for them. They can’t help it.

There is another introduction to make. Reverend Doctor Justin Mungure is a recent graduate with his PHD in Hebrew from Tumaini University at Makumira. He runs the Cathedral and leads the English service. He’s been aware of, helped and included me/us since my first Sunday here when he was given the unfortunate job of translating Bishop’s sermon on the fly for two old folks from the U.S.

He was scheduled to return to Germany to complete his PHD there but COVID changed that. COVID also took away his pen-pals, friends. He sat in our living/dining room this week Friday and decided to trust us enough to ask that there might be someone reading this who would like to communicate with a Tanzanian Pastor. A highly educated Tanzanian Pastor whose linguistic ability includes English, but is not limited by it, I would add.

-------------------------------------------------------

What to Pray for:

All the tough and blessing expressed above –

The love of folks –

Whatever is on your hearts and minds for us –

A beloved Mentor at home whose lifelong cousin companion co-mission-ary and brother in Christ went home Friday a week ago –

For our children and grand-children who miss us.. we miss them too.. for the Army family on the move..

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 –

For that person to write with my dear friend Reverend Dr. Justin Mungure -

For each and every one of you –

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

Prayers, Your Prayer, makes 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 -

Dear Cherished Interested,
Computer is back!

We found an affordable, unsold from the Emirates, computer too so we each have one.

There is an English language service at the Lutheran Cathedral in Usa River not too far away. It has been a pleasant respite for two Sundays now. I haven’t had to preach, though I understand that it is my responsibility and my joy to talk about and proclaim Jesus Christ and all the intricate intimate and public ways God loves.

So far we are the only native English speakers there. Reverend Dr. Justin Mungure heads the Cathedral staff. His PHD is in Biblical Hebrew but his demeanor is kind, very kind and inclusive.

Since last posting we have gotten a fan. A fan. Simple but profound blessing that I understand makes no sense in the context of winter north of the equator as faced by so many of you.

We also have hot water, or cold water, but not both except in one sink just outside the shower room. The Shower room is the same size as the room with the western toilet. It has a tiled floor and walls up five feet or so. So is the room with the toilet.

An electrician came by motorbike replaced half a dozen outlets and got the hot water tank working. More work to do and he insisted he would be back to do it. The kitchen sink and the shower mixer faucets only flow water from what should be the hot water supply. Turn on what should be cold water supply and nothing comes.

So, we turn on the hot water tank and wait for it to heat up. Timing has been everything until very recently because wait too long and even the dribble from the shower head will scald. A fixer(Fundi) from the Children’s Village came down and got some cold water supply to function.

Another plumber came by motorbike a couple days ago and in spite of no common language he and I communicated well. Seeing and showing problems is universal. That and I know the word for crazy now and it fits this houses water supply issues.

There is a spigot in the shower room beneath the cold water supply intended for filling buckets and tubs. Since the fundi from the Children’s Village came down that spigot flows water, cold water. Logically the shower should too but it doesn’t. No matter.. we have a bucket. The dribbling outfall of scalding hot from the shower falls just six inches from the bucket fill spigot. Perfect! One bucket to blend then pour over your head.

Nearly heaven in an instant. Silly, but so very true.

-------------------------------------------------------

Hilda is head to toe drying up sores. Those mosquito bites got infected. Then she reacted to the antibiotic. All swelling is down. She is nearly off all meds. She took only part of one day to rest. She is amazing.

I am thankful that the computer died at just the right time for her NOT to be on it all the time while sick. She couldn’t work at home. That is except for observing classrooms and going to meetings here at Silverleaf Academy where the house is.

She could borrow a computer up at the Children’s Village and work lesson plans and dialogues for translation up there. So that she did, around meetings there whenever she was there. Which is whenever she isn’t here. Yes busy..

Basically, it’s complicated, three NGO’s(two mature one just forming up) the churches, several families, lots of dear ones have us at their disposal and believe it or not are glad for it. God is. God does. Us lucky ones get to see.

--------------------------------------------------

I am ashamed to admit that we have help with the house. Heriheti has less English than I have Swahili. My brain is miserably slow yet I am eternally thankful for every miserly word it holds on to. I get to ask about her children and how she is too. She answers but never stops moving.

One of the grown ones aged like our children insisted we get help from Heriheti. That dear one who sent us Heriheti was right. She comes starting this week 2 times a week on the days Hilda is scheduled to be on campus where the house is. We thought she was coming to help with laundry, an old school process of tubs of suds and hands, but she also moves and mops and makes certain everything is spotless. She also finds and brings us good fresh eggs, free range of course.

Later we learned that we are the reason her children are now in school. The help is huge. The result for a young family bursts me.

---------------------------------------------------

This week while up at the Children’s Village a young indispensable teacher came to find me reading scripture in a quiet place. He was very glad to find me reading scripture. He sat with me and then with a huge smile said he needed to tell me something.

He wanted to tell me what the people in the community had decided. Decided, that is, after seeing me at funerals of both Lutherans and Catholics. Decided, after seeing me driving Pastors in their vehicles, driving pastors vehicles. Decided, after me walking and daring to greet glances with what few words and kind gestures I can muster.

He wanted to tell me that the folks, of the mountain on which The Children’s Village is built, have decided that I am good to have around. That I have come not to be a problem but instead to be a help. This quiet, capable, teacher bubbled as he told me.

Like most he calls me Babu(grandfather). He knows and doesn’t care that I am a Christian. This indispensable one who calls me grandfather is not a Christian but Islamic.

Scripture is as scripture does? Or, is The Spirit ever stirring among any who long to talk with God and serve his littles, even the grown ones. Maybe both?

------------------------------------------

YES! Your praying efforts show! I pray I can let you see through mere words..

Thankfulness for what you have read thus far –

Thankfulness for Visa’s granted, without us visiting the office, by the head of office before leaving on vacation, certified in writing by the head of office in his own hand, a hand all others including local police know and pay attention too, certified by head of office with a portion of the cost waived –

Thankfulness for Our Children who served and are serving in the Armed Forces who gave us a Navy Federal Account. Thankful that Navy Federal has gotten some money shifted from the U.S. to Tanzania for us –

Thankful for the wheels those shillings will bring to us, hopefully this next week –

Thankfulness for Heriheti –

Thankfulness for Hilda –

For our children and grandchildren who miss us.. we miss them too –

For our children’s helps.. you mean the world to us –

For the Army family moving assignment from Georgia to Colorado in this winter -

For everyone everywhere with winter –

We pray you have some of our heat –

We are thankful for the rain –

Thankfulness for teachers who care more for people than religious barriers –

Thankfulness for busy-ness –

For Makumira Lutheran Secondary school and her students, teachers and helpers –

For Silverleaf Academy and her students, teachers and helpers -

For The Children’s Village, her many faces, hands and hearts –

For whatever is on your hearts and minds for us -

For each and every one of you –

Each and every one of your prayers too -

Thank you, Thank You, Thank You.. Prayers, your prayer, makes 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 -