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

Dear Cherished Interested’s, September 28 - Oct 1st 2022



Hilda and I leave the Pacific Northwest from Portland Oregon October the 4th to return to Tanzania.

vwilliamson@sprynet.com / facebook messenger / Hilda’s Phone number 360-815-4302

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Sitting outside a post COVID Doctor’s appointment waiting for Hilda, whom I can no longer accompany inside the building without an appointment of my own, and, frankly, being home is strange. Don’t get me wrong, I know the strangeness is also often how others perceive us.

There is a four letter word that keeps coming to my attention and it is probably worse than any other four letter word. It is probably worse than any cursing of any kind because we do it to ourselves, consciously or not. I used to think that hate was the worst four letter word but have learned over the years that hate is very often just a wrapper for the worst four letter word. Even the most powerful four letter word, love, can become a smarmy sickly sweet wrapper hiding the worst one.

The worst four letter word, the one that excuses challenging status quo, injustice, stopping and looking, stopping and listening, stopping and reading, stopping and singing, stopping and asking, stopping and breathing in even the air of a different moment or place or person or even a different hope, is fear.

We like the devils we know. We like them as they keep us trapped in the comfortable and familiar even if that comfortable and familiar is painful and hurtful.

I pray not to offend anyone with this report but given how few we have discovered are familiar with these reports, I trust the rare few who do, to forgive me yet another strange, perhaps outrageous, challenge. The challenge of considering not some specifically named amorphous hate, as the culture demands, but fear as the worst four letter word and worse.. by far.

We do it to ourselves and let it stop us. We do it to ourselves and it leaves us talking in circles, the repetitious words coming from our mouths justifying all the other four letter words instead of.. sacrificing time, movement, effort, in anything we are not already certain of. Which is silly.

Who can stop change? We all face change as we grow older. We all face change as the various environments we occupy are all dynamic systems changing constantly. Technology changes and changes our immediate world, however small we strive to keep it. Death brings change no matter how many pills we consume to forestall or suppress it. Those pills, they can be miracles bringing tremendously good change for us.

We all have the power to believe we can stop change.

Church doors are now almost universally locked across America. This is because we don’t want anything to get dirty or broken. Sensible, but, if our minds were a little less sequestered by fear of a mess in or physical damage to our church buildings and free to consider human suffering, we might remember. We might remember that if the drunk or vagrant was our son or daughter, our father or brother, aunt or uncle, just how grateful we would be that they had found shelter in a church rather than shelter in a flop house, under a tree, or no shelter at all.

Is it our church? Is it God’s church? Jesus sacrificed His life, among people he loved, dying on a cross.

What would Jesus be willing to do with a thousand buildings?.. to give a life an opportunity, a chance, for real change?

I have preached where churches have no locks like the churches I remember from when I was young. Some of those churches have no walls. Are there places where valuable items are locked away? Yes. Items that the people of those churches may be blessed enough to have and can ill afford to lose? Yes.

Communion service is often staggered so congregations and churches can share the same vessels. Even the Cathedral where we have started our Sundays washes the vessels between servings to have them clean, full, and ready for each serving, in each service, from 6:am to noon or however long the day is, however many opportunities to worship there are.

If the church is a bank, then lock it up.

As the church strives to model our self-sacrificing Savior, Jesus of The Cross who died for us, then let us try to remember the sound of coins hitting the floor. Coins made of non-living, non-loving, stuff dug out of the ground. The sound of non-living coins hitting the floor of The Temple of Jesus’ day, at the hands of our Savior overturning tables, to clear the way for living and breathing people. People like you and me.

Hilda says that I am a radical. I’ve never felt like a radical. I’ve felt I had no choice. Someone has to speak up for life being more important than what fear demands. Why? Our lives are made by God. Each life is intended for growing, discovering, and for eternally longer than here and now.

Why is there more joy in heaven for the one lost sheep recovered than all the ones already saved?

Could it be that one sheep, just one life, restored for that one eternity is a longer, fuller, life than all the lives ever lived here on the planet earth ever, all added together? Do the math. It does.

What is more wondrous though is that the master of everything, here and now and eternity, wants such as us to fill eternity with. Wants us enough to die for us. We are the living creations of the ultimate creator, provider, savior who values us as having come from Gods heart.

Our fear, known to us and not known to us, can’t be bigger than that.

The lovingly created child of God who doesn’t know themselves anymore, if ever. The sick, the lost in addiction all those who shatter our stained glass, carve things in the woodwork, and leave blood or worse on our carpets are already hating themselves for their mistakes, confusion, desperation and fear.

One choice at a time, one opportunity at a time, and we can model something different for us to see and for others to see. I don’t pretend to know what those choices should be. I do believe deeply however, that choices should be never be made in fear.

Let’s start with killing fear. Jesus took death unto himself on the cross. Jesus killed death. Jesus killed the fear of death. Let’s try to be part of each-others resurrection and let fear stay dead.

Some fears I may need to strive after keeping dead:

Dying before seeing our children and their children again even after just holding them / Making mistakes / being misunderstood and thrown away / Not trusting God with our children who were all his long before and remain his long after me / Not loving all God’s children like the ones entrusted to me / Not trusting God with implacable problems that are beyond my control / judging others / not hearing others / being voiceless / leaving someone else without a voice / Living my plans before Gods best for others / Missing opportunities to be part of providing the best good in each moment ahead / Consequences, all sorts, for all people, because I missed my part in providing the best good / not trusting GRACE to keep cleaning up after me

Just a few.. how about you?

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Also please continue to Pray for:

Travel mercies for Hilda and I. Plane travel represents a supreme physiological trial to someone my shape, size and medical history.

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, we will be good again until after we return -

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

This video made for Hilda and I by

Vainqueur Birembano  

 

 

Dear Cherished Interested’s,

Hilda and I are home and in the loving care of children and grandchildren. We leave the Pacific Northwest from Portland Oregon October the 4th to return to Tanzania.

vwilliamson@sprynet.com / facebook messenger / Hilda’s Phone number 360-815-4302

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We teach, when we can, the willing. We may never see if we teach anything to the unwilling.

How about learning? Am I willing to learn?

Our trip home had a flight that was nearly 17 flight hours and covered the distance from Doha, Qatar, to Dallas Fort Worth, Texas, USA. After leaving Hilda’s house around 4:30am to get to the airport and our first flight of about 8 hours then waiting in Doha about 8 hours, I sat in the wrong seat. I very kind gentleman from India came and looked at me but noticing my head nodding said nothing.

It was a packed 777 with fascinating linguistic properties. Most conversations were in English but not the English common to English speaking countries or regions. The conversations were in the English of the 3rd, 4th, or further removed language from the speakers’ native tongue. We were in a sea of Asian and Arabic brown in which one could fool oneself that we pale-faced ones were the only outsiders. But no, as the flight spread into its 8th or 9th hour barriers were coming down. Folks were milling about the steerage parts of the flight we occupy. They were happily assisting those who may have looked or dressed like everyone else but did not have English, did not have Hindi, did not have Arabic and were isolated by a tribal or regional tongue that was rare on any airline flight.

Starched up businessmen, now rested and calm, happily wandering the aisles taking notice of grandmothers who had said nothing to anyone and trying the many lesser known languages they knew from their youth and villages nearby where they grew up. That is when that very kind man from India returned to greet, take my hand, and bridge my ignorance with his gracious English of India.

I had taken his seat on a packed flight. He didn’t care. He simply found another and when the opportunity returned he let his feet and curiosity take him back to the sleepy oversize one who had displaced him. We were able to shift and return his seat to him but he was interested in discovering who we were. He is T.D. Lazar Chennai, Pastor. He is a grandfather like me. He is a Pentecostal leader of a missionary movement based in India with outreach and churches now also in the U.K. and Dallas.

We had a very good conversation about how God uses us. We had a very good conversation about how leadership that does not reflect what Christ did on the cross, is typical in the governments of most countries. It was very good to have a conversation with another older one who shares a conviction that the most important thing we can do is leave room for God to reveal God-self to those who need to know that here and now with faulty human leadership is not all we are intended for.

He has many degrees but wants more. He did not care that I lack the requisite degrees for North America. He asked questions and laughed. Smiled, listened, challenged, spoke about family and left the flight after a very long joyful conversation calling me Pastor. Someone, such as he, serving outward from his home continent of India through many churches, in many places, willing to discover and identify with such as me.

How about learning? Am I willing to learn?

In Tanzania I now have, a helper/fixer, who is a catholic professional man who calls me father and is, among other things, helping me strive after a pathway for matriculation into theological training in TZ. A day before flying he notified me that at least one of the commissions or departments or ministries of the Government that certifies institutions, instructors and students into educational opportunity needed not only all my limited college work but also my High School Transcript from over 40 years ago.

I was dubious at best as it was so long ago and I had been a severe minority working kid who could not afford the time for school when I was there. I shook my head and put a posting on social media for those who went to High School with me to send me anyone, any contacts they might have so I could try. Within 36 hours of that post two of the beautiful women I had grown up with had found and e-mailed my High School Transcript to me, and my primary school records as well, and some standardized testing results too. We had a brief moment of internet connectivity in Doha that lasted long enough to receive that e-mail and then share it on to Tanzania.

How about learning? Am I willing to learn?

Yesterday we left early to drive north of the border into Longview WA. There we got a minimal breakfast at a diner near to a medical services provider I needed paperwork from before trying to organize a Commercial Driver’s License(CDL) Physical. Given that I’ve unexpectedly taught defensive driving in TZ and I don’t know what is ahead and I’ve had my CDL since ’83, before Hilda, I’m trying to keep it.

After finishing breakfast I headed to wash my hands and passed a table full of clear-eyed guys of a broad age range. I looked them over and they looked back. So, I said that they looked like a meeting I might like to join. There was laughter and a conversation and Hilda came over and we did not pay for our breakfast. I had found a local Mens’ Bible Study regular Tuesday morning breakfast.

We went to the medical services provider and I was informed that my account was with the branch up north in Mount Vernon so they could not help me. I asked more questions and begged.

The young man tasked with telling me to go away called his boss at home and together they found a solution that got me the paperwork I needed for a CDL Physical. Then, they sent me to a practitioner for a physical without an appointment. When that provider was not available, that unavailable providers staff sent me to another provider in a nearby community calling and organizing my appointment for that afternoon for me.

Hilda’s phone was not working so we were travelling unfamiliar ground without maps, only what little was in my head. She got that figured when we were 3 travel minutes from the provider that gave me my physical. That provider was not happy with my blood pressure so required me to rest for an extended time while sending staff in to check on me and re-take my blood pressure until he was happy with the reading to document. Official medical passed, paperwork e-mailed to WA State last night.

Yesterday = breakfast paid for by others, impossible to do paperwork done, CDL medical completed without prior appointment, and when leaving the first provider to go to the second provider, someone driving by on the street called my name. It was one of the guys who bought our breakfast way across town.

How about learning? Am I willing to learn?

Brothers from India on a long flight to America, Sisters from decades ago who still care, brothers from an early morning diner breakfast, sibling strangers daring the impossible to happen in one day without appointments..

I’m trying..

Your, sacrificed time, thought, and prayer to throw us at God makes everything possible. Thank You, thank you, thank you.

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

Also please continue to Pray for:

Travel mercies for Hilda and I. Plane travel represents a supreme physiological trial to someone my shape, size and medical history.

Affordable time in the Pacific Northwest and over to Colorado for those dear children and grandchildren who miss us and whom we miss deeply.

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, we will be good again until after we return -

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..

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,

Yesterday Hilda and I had a meeting with Reverend Doctor Angela Olotu, the long-time serving chair of the Theology school at Tumaini University Makumira. We have tasks assigned for us to do. This time, however, we have been directed to have the direction and assistance of the University Registrar, Lawi Mawuyo, the local man who successfully got us onto campus and into our meeting with Rev. Dr. Olotu.

I intensely communicate that I am a child here in TZ. I do not know what I do not know. Further, that everything I do know from North America is not applicable to East Africa and Tanzania. Nearly every communication now must re-enforce this near seemingly troglodyte ignorance as any apparent competence on my part, as evidenced in meetings, is illusory in the context of where we are.

Our sense of God’s laughter in our joy yesterday includes but is not limited to:

Going to Hilda’s purse for her business cards and finding the two we needed and only the two we needed. One for Lawi and one for Rev. Dr. Olotu.

Rev. Dr. Olotu’s description of meeting with us as an unusually calm and peaceful time in her normal life of frenetic busy-ness.

The completely gracious acceptance of Hilda and I by everyone on campus yesterday.

Rev. Dr. Olotu’s excitement over Hilda’s Science Teaching credentials and experience, now local experience too.

Finding Rev. Dr. Justin Mungure at the Cathedral in Usa River within half an hour of leaving the meeting at Makumira. Monday is a day he is scheduled to be elsewhere. He arrived at the same time we did. We spoke briefly then received assurance that the first task we were given is already accomplished and that he will communicate with Dr. Olotu, who directed his own training, to handle whatever is needed.

That first task? We were directed to become officially attached to a local Tanzanian Parish.

We have attended regularly and preached when asked in three local parishes. Our heart is with them all. Given however, that most of our Sunday’s start with 7am English service at Usa Cathedral we went there directly from the meeting at Makumira.

We are now officially attached to the parish of the Usa River Cathedral of the KKKT/ELCT, a Tanzanian Lutheran Church. It appears that we may be sent as their own people for theological study and perhaps to serve as a science educator at Tumaini University, Makumira.

Freeborn Lutheran church of Stanwood WA is now sewn to a parish in Tanzania. Our Saviors Lutheran church of Stanwood WA and Faith Lutheran church of North Lakewood WA are sewn now likewise. Let alone all the other places and people tied to us over our times and places.

Keep Praying please.. this is God stuff.. your heart touches our heavenly father.. thank you for that..

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

We attended, by escorting a precious local one, a wedding Saturday evening not far from Hilda’s house on the Silverleaf Academy campus. Hilda found herself in the company of alive strong joyful women who swept her along with them.

We are now often the eldest at such things and we surprise many of the youngers who dare to converse with us. I think that’s funny. It’s also an opportunity.

Hilda was with those women. I sat off to the side and around the corner from a large opening into the facility that graced folks coming inside for the reception. Along came a young man from Brooklyn who with his significant other, from Pittsburgh, run food and education programs among inner city poverty there in Brooklyn. Guess who they wanted to talk about without initially knowing they did?

Yes, they wanted to talk about God. And they wanted to discuss their relationship with God and Jesus as expressed by nothing they have or can do and also how it is expressed through them and their work.

That sort of thing coming into my life as our own children are so very capably busy with their and their children’s lives is such a joy.

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

Now to the other end of the age spectrum.

Last Friday Matron, retired head nurse for the local Nkoarganga Hospital who monitors and supports the health of every child at The Children’s Village and teaches families about nutrition and many other topics about childcare, rearing, family management, etc. admitted to me that she was unwell. Something she would never let show.

As I went down off the hill I took her and a couple others with me. After leaving the others off along the way, instead of taking her to the bus, I took her to her home in the nearby bush. Matron lives with her husband and her brother in law who both need constant care. The home is an island in the dried up dust bowl of failed crops down on the plain below Mount Meru. The water well produces water filled with flouride salts making it unpotable and severely limiting of vegetable crops that can be safely grown for human consumption.

I was not allowed to drop her at her gate and go on.

Nope, this under the weather octogenarian, jumped out of the truck to open her gate insisting that I get a glass of milk before I go. This farm-boy still appreciates fresh raw milk. Even as served here which is so hot that the skin cells of your mouth must renew themselves between sips, the top of the milk cooked into a film over and over as the film is consumed. Layers of cells scoured away by the indescribable heat with each sip so that even as the beverage cools, the mouth left more raw with each sip, feels any remaining heat as powerful as the very first.

I sat on the porch with those two elderly men and their care-giver, youngers appearing to check in and then disappear at calm directive given. The life in each of these elders showing just as brightly in their eyes as any young one anywhere, especially when they decide their guest is okay.

Matron’s current husband came into her life as husband in 2015 and perhaps started as a marriage of economic survival for elders caring still for many young ones, but, I got to see mutuality of deep warm humor-filled commitment in their eyes as they would regard one another. And also happiness in the eyes of her brother-in-law at this elder couples sincere togetherness in spite of any troubles.

As I left this island of near centennial determination amidst dust-devils and rooster-tails that overrun the truck at every opportunity, even in first gear, I turned wrong and did not come directly through a few bush kilometers to the big road. Instead I wandered unlabeled tracks the squishing radial tires pumping dust as they rolled through parched puddles of the sneeze inducing powder. Rough sections being rocky and rutted taking you among Maasai cows and goats, donkeys and people, some of the youngest people shocked to see anything like me. Smiling and waving sometimes helps. I was far enough from the big road that my pitiful Swahili only got blank stares. Ki-Meru or Ki-Maasai only out here.

My two words, “barabara kubwa(road big)?” spoken with a big smile eventually got a smile in return with a finger pointing the way. I was close.

Not feeling well had not gotten in the way of Matron waving at her neighbors from the passenger window of Hilda’s truck and then turning to look up at me laughing that they’ll all think she is rich now because a mzungu(dizzy-world-traveler) was driving her home instead of her walking.

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

Hilda and I fly home leaving Tanzania September 1st for a month in the Pacific Northwest. We leave the Pacific Northwest from Portland Oregon October the 4th to return to Tanzania.

vwilliamson@sprynet.com / facebook messenger / Hilda’s Phone number 360-815-4302

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

Also please continue to Pray for:

Travel mercies for Hilda and I. Plane travel represents a supreme physiological trial to someone my shape, size and medical history.

Affordable time in the Pacific Northwest and over to Colorado for those dear children and grandchildren who miss us and whom we miss deeply.

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 (another 3 month extension for us both granted!) we will be good again until after we return -

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..

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,

Hilda and I fly home leaving Tanzania September 1st for a month in the Pacific Northwest. We leave the Pacific Northwest from Portland Oregon October the 4th to return to Tanzania.

During that time in the states these two grandparents hope to see and hug each and every child and grandchild we can. That is our first priority.

Hilda needs to renew her driver’s license and I hope to renew my commercial drivers’ license. A bit of a task and expense with hurdles due to age, time in Africa and being less than medically perfect. I had no idea that my many years using that license would prove to be valuable here. It has. Also if we need to return in a more full time way to the states after Hilda’s contract to teach teachers expires in December, I may need the license wherever we find ourselves.

Freeborn Lutheran Church, a courageous little church near Stanwood WA, blessed and sent us with a letter. Two other local churches, Our Saviors Lutheran Church in downtown Stanwood and Faith Lutheran Church in North Lakewood WA also prayed over, blessed and sent us.

These three churches are near some of our children. We plan to be with each as possible too.

vwilliamson@sprynet.com / facebook messenger / Hilda’s Phone number 360-815-4302

Part of the sending involves experiencing education and pastoral formation here.

I have seen use, having preached five times from three different pulpits in local churches in Usa River, Kilala, and a new rural preaching point here on Mount Meru. I have also been presenting messages from the weekly scheduled readings of the local Tanzanian Lutheran Church in a small intimate study / worship time each Sunday with the Mama’s who care 24/7 for the residential care children of The Small Things, Happy Children’s Village in Nkoaranga. Everything Hilda and I have done and continue to do has been at the request of local people.

I am as yet not in a formal Theology program. I have found another person who is part of the local University that motivated our coming all this way so I could finally go to school. I have received an assurance that this coming week of the 15th of August 2022 that I will be seeing the head of the Theology program at Tumaini University, Makumira. There have been many false starts. Hoping and praying this is better.

We came this far for many reasons. There are many hurdles but here are four big ones. No one from America has ever tried to attend full time this local Theology program. The culture of theological education here in TZ, and the details surrounding matriculation are vastly different from those of North America. The Government of TZ is completely involved in accreditation, evaluation, and certification of not only schools and universities but also every student. I am still a child in this culture not knowing what I still do not know. Confusion reigns.

Still, local pastors and people here are praying our way, before us, just as so many of you are.

vwilliamson@sprynet.com / facebook / Hilda’s Phone number 360-815-4302

Thank you to each of you for all the patience you extend and likely will need to continue to extend. Communication between where you are and we are, is still less than ideal. While we are in motion in the Pacific Northwest we may be difficult to find but believe that we want to be found. We need to speak to what your prayers have done and continue to do. How we are dependent upon whatever moments you sacrifice to throw us at God in prayer.

!! Additional bout the Mama’s at the Children’s Village.. !!

Two of the local Tanzanian teenagers who have helped with Sunday school and the messages with the Mama’s are now safely in school with their folks in Connecticut. The remaining young man is still here. I was able to spend a day with him just hanging, walking, stupid movies on line, food and Hilda’s kittens, this last week. I hope to be able to again before we leave for the month of September.

I have prepared for him, from the scheduled scriptures, a message for the Mama’s for each week we are to be gone. Pray for him too please. His name is Elisha. He is a brilliant teenager who misses his family deeply. Brilliant teenagers, in this nation with a median age of seventeen, who miss their family, are apt to face distractions. May those distractions be edifying and enlightening for him and may he and those loving and caring for him and his little brother be safe and ever the beautiful people they are.

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

Also please continue to Pray for:

Travel mercies for Hilda and I. Plane travel represents a supreme physiological trial to someone my shape, size and medical history.

Affordable time in the Pacific Northwest and over to Colorado for those dear children and grandchildren who miss us and whom we miss deeply.

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 (another 3 month extension for us both granted!) we will be good again until after we return -

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..

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 -