Dear Cherished Interested’s,                                                                                           November 20th 2022

Thursday last, another funeral.  This for the 83 year old grandfather of one of my English students.  That student’s big sister is the apparition from a couple posts back so her grandfather too.  Huge family and a nephew and his son handled the massive event.  That Nephews son is a good friend here, a young man who is becoming a Mchungaji, Pastor.  His Great-Uncle who lived next door is the babu who died. 

I went to support my student, her sister, their mother, the whole community.  Unexpectedly I met there others who were directly related as grandchildren who I knew from elsewhere.  So big a family that grandchildren had never met each other, even though they lived on and around the same mountain. 

Yes, I was trying to be what I can’t be, invisible.  The Nephews son came and collected me from the women and placed me with his father, at the head of the event.  Local Mchungaji’s of all different types came in to group officiate for this extremely diverse and massive family.  Many know me, the one who tries to be invisible.  To a person those who know me call me Mchungaji.  I was not only not hidden but was not seated in the Mchungaji section where they expect, even have demanded me to be.  I was seated with the head man and his son.  Thank God for the white hair.   

Like most things in my life I’ve learned the hard way that not all family looks the same.  So, I keep my big mouth shut.  I don’t need to know how many wives, if more than one.  I don’t need to know how many other lines of children were begat outside legal or church sanctioned relationship, or not.  They could have all been adopted too.  In that way, we are all very much the same.  We are all adopted into the best and only eternal family of God. 

There were a lot of mourning ones.  A whole section of bibi’s, grandmothers, all dressed in white.  With them could have been more bibi’s or younger wives, all seated together.  Different lines will choose cloth to have matching dresses made.  The same pattern will be seated everywhere but most often grouped.  Some head woman eyes from that matrilineal bundling gauged me narrowly.  I have learned.

The time came for the head man’s son to go forward and view the deceased in the coffin surrounded by Mchungaji’s.  I went forward with my friend. 

Often at these funerals of a particularly beloved patriarch mourners will weep so uncontrollably that they lose consciousness or control of their limbs.  A couple older women had to be helped away by others wearing the same pattern.  One young woman who went up alone was carried away by two pallbearers.  The woman having the hardest steel in her gazing at me had a rough time for a while with three women holding her until she could stop shaking, this while she was seated.  I have learned.. some.

I walked around the deceased.  Yes, I knew him.  He was one of that incredibly practical and accepting group of white haired men who had let me help get a beloved General’s truck down off the high bank of the roadway without anything bigger than another, smaller, truck to haul rock and dirt with.  Yes, that same General was there too.  No, beloved or not, this one of this nation’s first generals was in the peanut gallery.  Lucky man.  Did I say that I’ve tried to learn?

We walked around my deceased friend of shared toil and unshared language in just the correct way to come out in front of that matrilineal bundle.  I reached for and took each and every hand using my pittance of Swahili and eye contact to say how very deeply sorry I was.  Even the steel-eyed ones broke, trusting me with open expressions of surprised unexpected appreciation and eyes full of tear. 

My Fathers Dad, my grandfather, lost all of his many siblings.  My grandparents simply gathered the children up and took them home to raise with their own.   We don’t know what happens in lives where death is near, common, and takes so many young ones.  Families may get massive because death has taken so many parents that the remaining simply gathered together forming up whatever came of the pieces.  My dad’s cousins were his brothers and sisters too.  I am old enough to remember.

I may be identified by locals as Mchungaji, but I am not a local Mchungaji.  I am different.  Thank God they let me be.  With my white hair and my foreigner status I am able to get away with things that locals cannot.  Risk everything.  Jesus did.  Now we have family!!!

Yes, those young women who know and trust me could be seen in the corners of the crowd taking turns looking out for someone they also call Babu, me. 

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Yesterday, that very same head man’s son got married.  Hilda was dressed in the chosen color and pattern of all the Groom side Bibi’s.  We were taken and placed at the table closest to the bride and groom.  We were back with the Mchungaji’s.  It was fine, good even.  These Pastors, all different flavor, seem so young to me and they blow my mind with their acceptance.  America needs to train pastors here.  Hilda and I were singled out to be given a whole separate wedding cake, being called forward as Mchungaji, and Mama Mchungaji, Van.  That is how the name my parents gave me, Vern, comes out here, Van.  Which makes people laugh because in Africa a Van is also known as a Lorry or a Truck.

This is how you know the head cook likes you.  It is dark.  It’s been raining heavily, PRAISE GOD!, you are soaked because you, pastor truck used to be a logger and don’t care if you get wet.  One mighty beloved Meru daughter literally stands in the line holding the surging crowd back and hands you two plates so she and others working the event can have some food too, you will have it for them.  Head cook knows there are no utensils so she puts a piece of chicken on your plate that when the good is nibbled away makes a good spoon for the rest of the plate.  People are looking out for us.  Your prayer support is amazing, nothing less than absolutely amazing..

Please keep reading to the end..  yes, important stuff in the prayer requesting..

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Also please Pray for:

Hilda’s temporary contract with the local NGO ends next month, her work will hopefully transition over to Tanzanian hands.  If not it will come to a close.  Money is super-tight here like at home there.  We don’t know what is ahead though the few locals in the know are working as hard as we to discover what that may be.  We know we are used and God’s trust is even more beautiful than the trust we have among God’s children here.  Keep your good work up?  Please.  You are doing the best of best by taking even a moment of your precious time with God to think of, to mention, us.

Yes, reluctantly, you can help us if you wish and you don’t need tax paperwork.  We cannot provide that.  We are just folks.  We are not an organization.  Your Church is an organization and can provide paperwork and if moved by The Holy Spirit can help us and get you that paperwork.

If that is not possible, please consider The Small Things of Nkoaranga, Tanzania.  They are the parent NGO responsible for The Children’s Village we have been diligently around and among this last year.  They can get you tax paperwork and have sincere needs to attend.  The perimeter fence project and more importantly, on-going school fees for about fifty children.  These are too much for this old couple who live hand to mouth alone, but, money goes much further here.  These are easy do’s for a group of us.  God Bless you for reading and even considering.  Thank you.

Gratitude..

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 our precious 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 continued invisibility to those who can only see their own authority –

Visa situation..  Good now until after Christmas..  May we be able to learn and be lead into what is best for the benefit of what God would have us do, how God would have us do those things and stewardship of the resources God has put into us for Gods purposes -

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,                                                                                           November 3rd 2022

I did not want to go up front.  I was waiting until the fund-raising was over to then quietly give what Hilda and I had agreed was what we could do at this time. 

There are two critical things in my view that keep The Children’s Village safe. 

Firstly is the community within which is exists.  Part of that are the people who work there.  And work there with the village at the center of all the works that come out from there.  That work is, at its heart, community support as the goal is to keep families together, find remnants of families and help them to stand up in this context of no safety nets beyond family and neighbor so children can return to family for life long nurture, rearing, and mutual support. 

Secondly is the Children’s Village more overt participation in the community.  A great way to see this is Saturday mornings while schools are in session.  Tutorial is available across multiple grade levels and topics as well as enrichment like dance, drumming, singing, and story-time.  This flurry of activity brings other children of the community to The Children’s village to participate.  Almost a hundred and a half children can be seen Saturday mornings climbing the steep hill up to take advantage of this weekly tutorial/educational support and enrichment which lasts the whole morning.

The community benefits from The Children’s Village.  The Children’s Village benefits from the community.  Community involvement in the work of The Children’s Village includes guidance from the community regarding improvements to The Children’s Village.  One such priority given The Children’s Village is the erection of a fence around the perimeter of the Children’s Village property, in significant part or whole. 

This last Saturday, the 29^th of October, was the first fundraising gathering at The Children’s Village for local folks to come together and give in support of building that fence.  Two of the largest giving groups at that gathering were the teachers of and the Mama’s of The Children’s Village.  Two groups of people who have engulfed Hilda and I with trust and acceptance, in spite of our limitations. 

After the honored guests being called forward to make their donations and then calling out others to support their donations and folks running forward to do just that, the young man acting as m-c indicated it was time for staff. 

He called Hilda and I forward as members of the local staff by the names we are known by here.  I handed the donation to Hilda so she could hand it to those documenting and counting.  No, I could not leave after that.  Some unbelievably gracious things were said and a call to support whatever Hilda and I had given was made.  Then these precious people of deep endemic need took time, effort, and joy to run forward themselves or put what shillings they could in the hands of the Village Children who ran forward to put those shillings in my hands.  They wanted to share in and support our giving.   

I was overwhelmed and I wept publically through a smile returned to each laughing, glowing one.  I still do not know all the names but with time each face now has gathered a story, one that grandparent eyes can collect, remember, and pray on. 

To be given Meru names by the Mama’s who worship with me as we study the scheduled readings for each Sunday together.  That and for community wide to have folks simply call us grandmother and grandfather in Swahili is precious.  We are theirs each time we are named.  And it brings our children and grandchildren at home in America into our hearts each time too, those precious capable littles who grew up, just yesterday, with us as their parents and the children they are so diligently parenting themselves.   

The fence project is a huge expense but one the greater community wants for its Children’s Village. 

Local folks for whom medical visits, medicine, travel any other way but by foot and at times even meals can be unimagined luxury, raised an amazing amount of hard cash.  They must have been planning, saving, and twisting arms for a while to be able to respond the way they did.  Hilda and I cannot describe the mountain moved by this laughing joyful gathering of local folks in this first of many fund-raisers necessary to fulfill the greater community’s directive for their Children’s Village.

Joyful givers giving not out of their surplus ..but their need.  The perimeter fence will be good but the real safety for this Children’s Village is the community that surrounds it, participates with it and wants good things for it and the work that grows from this place at its heart. 

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I’ve been accused of sounding like an old testament prophet and as an old farm-kid and logger I identify some with Amos.  Maybe.. more than some.  I am hard on my home culture of abundance even as I weep and indeed pray for trials in so many lives there as well.

Last night..  I get a text..  not an emergency..  someone else wants to participate..

Someone(s) have participated in what Hilda and I are currently giving our lives over to. 

There are a couple who do this regularly and you know who you are.. 

We know about these from last night because they chose to name us too. 

This naming done as part of that donation/participation.  It came to The Small Things of Nkoaranga Tanzania, the non-profit organization responsible for The Children’s Village.  Its timeliness says huge things about those who made that choice.  A choice from logging country and the American heart of the truest abundance of service to others.  A heart for service, and even self-sacrifice, big enough to reach around the globe and across culture to respond.  Respond to what God did and does and is doing in YOU!

You know who you are too, and if any of you ever read this know that I don’t care how old or limited you may have come to feel you are.  Like those children who live in The Children’s Village who ran forward with joyful smile and even laughter to put shillings in my hands to support Hilda and I, I know your smiles and I miss that laughter falling from you as God pokes and participates through each of you. 

Part of our blog-post from September the 7^th details an encounter at a diner in Longview WA and again later that same day across town from that diner.  God made those happen.  God does not need my plans to make stuff happen.  God wants to poke and surprise and participate through all of us. 

Gentlemen, please tell everyone involved that this Amos wept again at learning of your attentiveness to your hearts for what God can and is doing.  The timing was perfect.  It arrived but a few hours after three of us here gathered to pray for the urgent needs of tomorrow.  WOW!..  Thank You, blessings ever..

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Also please continue to Pray for:

Gratitude..

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 our precious 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 continued invisibility to those who can only see their own authority –

Visa situation..  Good now until after Christmas..  May we be able to learn and be lead into what is best for the benefit of what God would have us do, how God would have us do those things and stewardship of the resources God has put into us for Gods purposes -

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 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.

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

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!

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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 -