Dear Cherished Interested’s,                                                                                         November 20th, 2023

Missed a Sunday to attend a Confirmation in the bush.  Way south of Usa River just about off any Google map reference.  Service was beautiful with 24 confirmands way out in the sticks, beautiful country. 

Yesterday I was again the sick one.  Hilda did everything on foot from the house, returning to check on me.  Today, a day late but while down off the mountain, we took the Sunday messages to the children at Makumira Secondary School.

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Don’t tell anyone.  Not yet.  Still immigration troubles possible, but..

I attended my first class as a student of Theology at Tumaini University, Makumira, today.  I am starting over a month late.  But, I have started.  The Dean has ordered me to come to her office anytime for anything.  I am lost but swimming for the surface.

Yes I was so sick this morning I could hardly stand, let alone walk half a kilometer up to the truck and then drive to school.  Hilda went with me today.  Still sick and very tired but somehow energized by the amazing inclusive kindness of the students I am in program with.

I was able to amaze the Dean by showing her my student ID with three years of campus access printed on it as she was under the impression that I could not do more than one year.  She was thrilled that problem got worked through and was bubbling about me working hard and doing well so that she could extend that into a fourth year.

Mchungaji Daktari Justin Mungure, a graduate of that university and someone I have preached for multiple times, accompanied us to campus this morning.  When visiting with us afterward he indicated two things: local pastors plan to work me while I go to school in order to cram the fifth year practical into those same three or four years ..  And several people are looking for housing for us closer to campus, more cost effective housing. 

There is another Mchungaji Daktari Mungure possibly in my future.  She may be my academic advisor and serves some dual capacity both the ELCT and the ELCA.  Please don’t out her..  I am not the ELCA flavor of the week, if I ever was, but as my mother might have said; strong medicine can taste bad but still do its job.    

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Yes, flooding and death and destruction.  We are safe.  We are a team.  Your prayers make everything possible by whispering our names in our Heavenly Fathers ear.

You do that.  Thank You.

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Some heartbreaking revelations about close people refusing their commitments to us. 

Commitments made to facilitate our doing everything we can and more to help them.  Manipulation sucks wherever it is.  Pray that God can enter it and somehow fix what I cannot even address, as isolation and triangulation are the bastion of the fearful and self-righteous..  It does not matter how much you love them, how much you were willing to sacrifice for them.   

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Yes please …

Relationships here on the ground in addition to my imperfections and mistakes are being used to try to drive us away from our striving.  Each day is a sincere struggle.  Hopefully that means we’re on the right track.  Please pray for those around us.  Please pray for the local faces which fearlessly now smile and greet us as we walk.  

Please keep crumpling us up and throwing us at God.  That is where we need to be.  God will sort us out.

One day at a time.  Just like how you each live.  Just one day at a time. 

Thank you, each of you.

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

What to Pray for:

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

All the tough and blessing expressed above –

The love of folks –

Whatever is on your hearts and minds for us –

For our children and grand-children who miss us.. 

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

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

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

For each and every one of you –

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

Prayers, Your Prayer, Even your groaning prayers makes all the difference..

Vern W

May life be as Music to your Heart – May Music be as Heart to your Life – May Heart be as Life to your Music

 Dear Cherished Interested’s,                                                                                         November 07th, 2023

Two Sundays ago I was so heart sick I was sick in body too.  I missed early service entirely but drove Hilda to The Children’s Village and Makumira Secondary and she did it all, even as she also was sick.  I crashed in the truck.

Sunday, two days ago, Hilda was still sick and I left her to sleep.  I was an Elder for the annual Men’s service at The Cathedral in Usa River.  I read the announcements and the first half of the first Chapter of Job.  My fellow Elder read nearly the entire second half of that chapter.

The message was given by a fellow congregant and grandfather intimately familiar with the polyglot tasking required to read, a sermon provided by the diocese in Swahili, out in English for the English service.  I was still called upon to speak extemporaneously about Job, fathering, prayer, and what Christian fathering in particular may entail. 

I was not run out on a rail.  I did have my simple raiment on backwards with the Cross on the back.  The Cross hanging from my neck falling to the front.  Not one robe yet found here fits enough to zip and snap let alone look like anything right, but the Elder raiment is a square of embroidered and edged white fabric lain on the bias across the shoulders to drape, head through the middle.  I did not feel any more ridiculous than usual with that feeling going away when required to share.

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May have found a place to help get the truck working more fully.  In one day the ABS system reports as working.  This has not worked ever in our time with the truck.  Hoping to be able to give that shop the two days with the truck they have requested soon.  Five generations of Hindu family from India living and working right here in TZ. 

Father, probably younger than us, of that clan is a very hard-nosed businessman but straight.  His father died when he was 18, so he has survived and done well learning his ways along the way.  The young son took his training in the UK and Canadian Maritimes and does his father proud while understanding North American enough to be comfortable with and for me.  We will see if they can understand a white person who is not full of cash but must plan.

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Hilda got a consult with Mohamad our pharmacist yesterday while waiting for the truck in Arusha.  She slept fairly well for the first time in almost a month last night.  Hilda is no quitter.  She’s a little groggy today, maybe we’ll try breaking one of those pills in half. 

We also went to the Cultural Heritage Museum while in town.  The Islamic family who owns it keeps it open for free.  They are building another museum for Jane Goodall right next to it.  When the headman sees us he remembers us.  As we are remembered, the pride for his gemstones and jewelry gets set aside with those things. 

He then really lights up as he shares about what his family and the families of his large life-long staff are doing in support of community development right here in Tanzania.  Most of these folks are wealthy enough to live anywhere in the world but as a group have chosen to stay and turn serving into something so joyful it looks like.. determined play.

We, the strange poor whites, are not shamed but accepted and even wanted.  Wild.

This Cultural Heritage Museum is huge.  It is stunningly appointed and curated full of artwork changing slowly with time but simply breath-taking.  I can’t do too much at a time, even the few abstract pieces are amazing.   The faces, physiognomies, places and animals are familiar to me from my brief time serving among them so my connection builds connection that can be overwhelming given the artistic veracity within artwork of extremely high character and quality.

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It has been two weeks of predominant silence.  Silence from the University and my diligent helpers.  I have been assured of an update today.  Assurances are often unable to be fulfilled. 

This seemingly contemporary paradigm of unfulfilled assurances is difficult for me.  It is not a paradigm I was raised to exercise in my times.  My patience is imperfect.  I have not yet been run out on a rail.  Nor have we dusted off our shoes.  I hate having to dust off my shoes.  When personal conviction and the peace of God brings you into striving sincerely in love, nothing hurts more than having to leave its outpouring. 

Face that every day.  Sometimes every minute.  Still playing the worldly fool praying to be heaven's tool. 

God’s sense is better than mine.  Obedience is easy to say but hard to live in the face of all the reasons not to. 

Yes, classes have already started for the year, two weeks in.  Awaiting assured for signature of Vice-Chancellor.  Latest theory being that as the last hurdle.  Again, my helpers doing their best for this to happen without money changing hands in inappropriate ways. 

At home, if you are seen as part of the one percent, you are expected to contribute things too.  Those expectations have very little to do with what my sense of call is.  I wonder how many others get drawn into those expectations here or at home without question.  Is that a fair burden to lay upon any church they are to come to serve?

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Had a bunch of little ones run up and throw their arms around me last night before sunset.  This was a community over on the mountain, about seven little sets of arms all at once.  Then off with smiles and waves and laughing.  Not one request for anything.   

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Yes please …

Relationships here on the ground in addition to my imperfections and mistakes are being used to try to drive us away from our striving.  Each day is a sincere struggle.  Hopefully that means we’re on the right track.  Please pray for those around us.  Please pray for the local faces which fearlessly now smile and greet us as we walk.  

Please keep crumpling us up and throwing us at God.  That is where we need to be.  God will sort us out.

One day at a time.  Just like how you each live.  Just one day at a time. 

Thank you, each of you.

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

What to Pray for:

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

All the tough and blessing expressed above –

The love of folks –

Whatever is on your hearts and minds for us –

For our children and grand-children who miss us.. 

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

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

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

For each and every one of you –

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

Prayers, Your Prayer, Even your groaning prayers makes all the difference..

Vern W

May life be as Music to your Heart – May Music be as Heart to your Life – May Heart be as Life to your Music

 

 

  

 Dear Cherished Interested’s,                                                                                         October 23rd, 2023

We drove to the border and then on into Kenya, Maili Tisa{nine mile}.  This for Visa compliance once again.  There we turned north into the bush and overnighted at a facility before returning to brave the border and come back south.

This brief overnight was unwanted expense yet, awesome.  This one night was a return.  Last time, at this facility, I stayed up late as Hilda rested helping the staff find and repair water and power issues. 

They were sincerely glad to see us again.  We hadn’t given up on them and came back in spite of the problems on our first visit.  Perhaps that is part of why we were approached late in the afternoon on the balcony by someone who was not in our plans.

The owner of the facility is now another of that growing body of people whom we are protective of.

Protective of even as that protection is not needed.  The owner is beyond mandatory retirement age for Kenya yet is kept continuously contract bound to serve his nation.  As he is not black, but a very light brown Muslim, he will never ascend to the highest positions he is responsible to.  For this he is openly thankful, fearing for his soul should he ascend to the top.  Wise man. 

His facility for visitors is kept behind a fence so other government officials cannot simply enter and help themselves to its contents and services.  We get to enter. 

We spent the late afternoon, supper, and into the late evening with a soon to be grandfather who still calls his mother three times a week.  This done by this military man responsible for many things.  One of his joyful responsibilities is directing and participating in Game Warden duties.  Two days after we left, I got a video and pictures of successful giraffe tagging operations as part of confronting cross border poaching.  Cool..

This Game warden who does many other things built this facility with recovered and up-cycled discards, cast-offs, and it is beautiful.  It will fool you at first look into believing it is a much older facility that is in a process of slow renewal, but that is a consequence of the materials found and used in its construction.

The region is in the twelfth year of a drought and so this game warden finds ways of feeding the local wildlife.  Hilda fed, out of her hand, a young male giraffe.  There are Eland, Ostrich, and many other animals and birds.  Without internet except for near the pool and common house, the sounds of nature throughout the day are healing to this old farmer and logger. 

This Islamic game warden has been married for 35 years.  He is married to a Catholic Maasai woman who sounds like a dynamo equal to her spouse.  Because of this union, this Islamic game warden is an elder of the Maasai in that region and includes in his long list of duties conflict resolution for the tribe.

I do not know why God takes moments, I do not seek, and makes them immeasurably valuable.  Again it is people.  God makes moments but not for moments sake.  God makes moments for life and people.  I did not expect a five hour conversation with anyone, we went to satisfy Visa compliance by having our passports stamped out of country then back in, my fingerprints taken at the border each way and each time.

We were able to listen to an exceptional insider, who is also an outsider to the various cultures, he lives within the tension of, in the in-between.  He is the last of his generation still in Africa, so likely could legally afford to follow his parents and siblings elsewhere, but chooses to stay where he can make a difference in the wild places and supporting the service among the people of those places he loves.  I understand that.  A secular Muslim and a Maasai Catholic doing much of the work of missionaries to support and improve human lives without knowing all the scriptural basis.  Cool..

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The Sunday after the trip north I preached in Kilinga again, a little further up the mountain, at 7:AM.  We waved at the Pentecostal Church on the way by as our Swahili teacher worships there.  She thinks it is cool that we preach among her people at the Lutheran church.  She has been studying my messages as part of our education and has never found fault with the challenges offered therein.   

Yes, Hilda preached too.  I leave them quiet and pondering.  Hilda they just adore, she can’t stand still and doesn’t.  She makes Mchungaji chase her around, so he can hear to translate, as she gets all her ‘students’ engaged by beaming love over everyone.

Yesterday was attending English service at 7:am, preaching only with the TST Mama’s, messages delivered to the children at Makumira Secondary, then we took a teen to boarding school way over on the west side of Arusha. 

On that trip we also took a young Italian woman, fluent in Swahili from studies at University in Naples.  And we took that precious mother to her sister’s children and grandchildren.  We then attended a Catholic Confirmation for a bitty little princess and her friend.  Huge deal here.  I was asked to use the truck to transport both children, inside the cab, and videographers filming from outside in the bed.

I was told I was to follow someone.  Then the tired mother of a confirmand got in the passenger seat and directed me to lead.  She directing to where she did not know and me taking direction in tired Swahili being spoken through her nose that I still don’t really know. 

How tired was she?  She was so tired that someone had to close the passenger door for her after she sat down in the truck each time.  That event lasted hours into the night. 

As the event was drawing to a close that tired Mama was energized by the music, dancing and celebration to the point of her and her husband coming to beam on Hilda and I with sincere gratitude.  

Gratitude for hauling 15 children, little princesses, in the back seat of the stupid little truck and letting videographers document from the bed while wandering dusty streets aimlessly going in circles looking for places we did eventually find.  Hilda and the ladies waited at the celebration venue while I wandered with children and videographers driving to directions mostly non-verbal and completely comical.  

I never seem to get video evidence but Hilda danced with all the African ladies like the world was on fire.  One Bibi coming to the table and making Simba dance with her too between joyful bouts with Mama Simba, Hilda. 

We got the two ladies we traveled with home, parked the truck at the church, and then walked home from there ourselves.  We did not get stopped until after midnight.

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Hilda is planning to take on two swimming students.  One of those students is looking for places to affordably have pool access.  These are adult students.  One is our Swahili teacher.

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Huge expenses again surrounding the school for Vern thing with last minute hurdles out of nowhere.  Thanks to Pastors here who really believe in who we are and Pastor Erik in Washington State who is also likewise supportive, hopes of clearing those hurdles have appeared.  We’ll see.  We are at work without the training.    

Hilda and I spent a few hours today around working those school for Vern issues with a German Pastor wanting to attend the same University also.  She was heartbroken at how she has been treated. 

Some of this is due to our developed world presumption that every type of communication is valued and equal.  That is not the case here where access to internet, phone service, e-mail, etc, is not common. 

Often only face to face communication works.  Now, good luck finding the faces.. 

I think of the Temple authorities as recorded in scripture.  I really do.   I’m sure that does not win any friends.  I hope it challenges a spiritual sibling or two. 

Two years after being told, while going through candidacy during COVID, that I was too stubborn to be accompanied in candidacy for listening to the call to come here, I learned that the candidacy committee did not think I would ever serve in a North American Congregation.  Because of that narrowness, their way or the highway, it may have become a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

Hilda and I still hope there is a small church somewhere in America desperate enough to let us live near the front door.  I hope it is in a blessed community with businesses running shifts.  We hope to have services either before or after shift changes, perhaps both, so we can be used to make some students among folks running as hard as they can. 

We hope there may be a church in farm country or along a trucking route so I can have coffee with folks sick of being lectured to by meta-thinkers with manicured hands that have never been broken by anything.  Not fair, I know, but needs are real as people.  Those needs are opportunities.  Like funerals are.  Like weddings are.  Like hunger is. 

Not all people who need God’s constant love can afford men’s and women’s retreats and special training programs or seeming adult play dates, entertainment as faith community.  They can’t afford my training.

Perhaps I shouldn’t buy that expensive and expected training that excludes the willing but come to trust my lifetime of suffering and miracles.  Both proof of God being with us and wanting us, forever.

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Yes please …

Relationships here on the ground in addition to my imperfections and mistakes are being used to try to drive us away from our striving.  Each day is a sincere struggle.  Hopefully that means we’re on the right track.  Please pray for those around us.  Please pray for the local faces which fearlessly now smile and greet us as we walk.  

Please keep crumpling us up and throwing us at God.  That is where we need to be.  God will sort us out.

One day at a time.  Just like how you each live.  Just one day at a time. 

Thank you, each of you.

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

What to Pray for:

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

All the tough and blessing expressed above –

The love of folks –

Whatever is on your hearts and minds for us –

For our children and grand-children who miss us.. 

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

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

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

For each and every one of you –

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

Prayers, Your Prayer, Even your groaning prayers makes all the difference..

Vern W

May life be as Music to your Heart – May Music be as Heart to your Life – May Heart be as Life to your Music

 Dear Cherished Interested’s,                                                                                         October 9th, 2023

I have been led to write more about lies in the messages for Sunday.  No, I still write mostly about Jesus and God’s constant love, yet, there is really a lot in scripture about lying.  I am told something by someone and I believe it to be truthful so I make plans and commitments based upon what I thought was truth.  When what I was told was not truthful but a lie, then I too am a liar when what I had promised based upon what I was told cannot occur as I had said it would.

Desperation makes people of poverty say anything.  That leaves them impoverished and enslaved.  That leaves their culture also impoverished and enslaved to lies that waste each others time and efforts.  But, it is in fact a human problem because I know that the greatest liars I have faced are the most educated, most influential, who come with the biggest bank. 

Once lost a business because a very wealthy Christian family chose not to pay for their new houseful of custom cabinets artfully fabricated for each individual space in that large and beautiful home, made far lovelier, by the cabinetry lovingly made for them by a neighbor and myself.  We did this with reclaimed cast off logging slash pile debris carefully milled, dried, and curated into efficient and warm use of space within that home. 

An earlier job loss came when the son of the owner of two businesses that were operationally my significant managerial responsibility chose to assault me in my office and then .. lie about it.  The presence of financial resources can shield folks from the consequences of their lies but the lies remain.  Lies destroy trust.  The wealthy often think that enough money can buy that trust back. 

There is much I have to think about now that was not my problem living near the economic bottom in North America.  Here, we are in the 1 percent.  What and how do I teach through the use of resources?  Resources that are not present in nearly all the lives around us.

The casual use of falsehood to control others time and efforts and calling it being kind to their feelings is part of the desperation of impoverishment but is also an excuse used by the wealthy everywhere to avoid facing themselves.  We have struggled together for too many years not to care about these things. 

On the farm with living things my moment by moment responsibility lying was inconceivable.  Either the animals are fed or they get sick and die.  Either the animals are milked or they get sick and die.  If the animals are dead there are no resources at all for the people.  If the crops fail, there are no resources to feed the animals.  Consequences taught by survivors of consequences kept the youngest me on my toes and focused on truth. 

That is why we have consequences isn’t it.  So consequences can steer us towards something better than lies.  So consequences faced and avoided can reward us with truth.  That is a mission statement.  Is it a good one? 

Over and over in Revelations it is communicated that all liars are part of a group going into the lake of burning Sulphur as part of the second death.  That is more prescient than people riding on the roof of our stupid little truck.  That is more prescient than the reckless operation of motor vehicles in general here.  Life is both precious and flouted foolishly in completely non-vicarious ways.  It is not a video game. 

Yet, lies, not foolishness, is part of what makes death permanent for people God lovingly creates. 

I want God’s heart on these matters.  I get lied to so casually and I hate it.  Where is my grace?  Where is my empathy?  My empathy got lost with that job?  My empathy got lost with that business?  Those are part of the plethora of losses we face in life.  We lose opportunities, places and, if we are alive inside at all we lose people the hardest. 

That is a mission statement too.  To lose people the hardest.  That is starting to touch the heart of God in these matters.  God creates me.  I don’t.  God creates all people.  I don’t.  If my heart is made so as to feel loss and then trained up through a life of losses then..  perhaps, we can understand a little of why Jesus chose to lose his life, instead of losing all of us. 

So, as I face the lies of the malignant, manipulators, and desperate, and those thinking they are kind, and lies come out of my own mouth by intent or the web of this interconnectedness, help me to hold to that Jesus who chose to lose his life, instead of all of us.  Let that love be with me when even my hard won and deep empathy gets lost. 

You hold us together in all the uncomfortable.  Keep me vulnerable as I pack water into the house.  Keep me vulnerable as we wait for power and internet to return.  Keep me vulnerable and not hardened by the tragedies that seem so needless.  I did not make any of God’s people.  Jesus was vulnerable enough to die for them..  me too.

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Yesterday was Cathedral where I was called upon to read scripture three different times during the sermon as given by Mchungaji Daktari Mungure.  Then the Children’s Village for a good Sunday school after being embraced by the other older local Mchungaji who comes for the children whenever he can too.  A wonderful worship with a Mama again standing to read the message for her fellows after singing so beautifully together. 

This particular Mama is an older Mama who looks so much, having a similar spirit to my grandmother when I was at my youngest.  She can run like the wind.  She can run like the wind while holding or grabbing up children nearly half her size.  Her smile is half her size too.   

This Mama, has keenly perfect eyesight and helped me figure out who needed reading glasses last year. 

When she reads a Sunday message, she is intentional about not being in a hurry.  I can read along as she speaks.  She raises her voice as she ends each question.  She pauses briefly at places that can use it.  She cares about scripture and not just being impossibly busy all the time. 

Again, my brain remains steadfast against comprehension even as I can read, hear, and speak the words.  Listen, see and appreciate the music of the language in its usage without knowing a thing.

Later in the day we were again at Makumira Secondary where we are currently avoiding entry into the school grounds as immigration has put a huge fear into the community about foreign nationals. 

Yes, which Visa, and how many resources will it take to get what this official, or that official, insists is official, until next time.  Christian schools do not have many of the protections afforded in the U.S.A.  Headmaster was heading to court early last week to deal with matters important to the government from 2008, long before he was headmaster, that involve a foreign national as student of the school at that time.  The government wants its way as resources are scarce, and some officials may be hungry. 

Perhaps some of the hard talk of lies has been in my face for a while.  People will show themselves in time.  Pray please that we have that time and the patience to watch what God does with our messes. 

Oh, the young ones at Makumira Secondary who want us there?  Hilda takes the Sunday message to the gate.  Adult in charge inside sends for a young one so the messages can still get to the young ones.  Then the adult gets busy with something so two or three of the young ones can come bubbling out of the gate and hang on the truck to talk with me still wearing my seatbelt. 

Yes, this is humbling.  This is amazing.  This is because of prayer.  I have written a lot of things.  I could not write any of this if it did not happen in front of me.  Thank you for your time and effort in keeping us in the thick of blessings.

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It is weird.  I learned early to work impossibly hard and by myself on the farm when I was very young.  I am surprised to find that the energy I was given then comes to me now not when I am alone and working but when I am obedient and working.  Working with, serving people as a lifelong introvert and finding energy in the obedience.  That has to be your prayer too.

Jesus changes the nature of fish who seek the bottom of the lake in the heat of the day to instead rise to the surface to be caught.  Jesus changes the nature of Simon the fisherman into Peter the Apostle and servant of people.  Jesus changes us too.  Just spend some time with him.  You give this time to us by your exercising hearts in conversation on our behalf.  You make this happen.

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Discipline is also true.  Loss of opportunity to be obedient I feel bodily in that it ages me decades in a second.  The Spirit in me weeping when a lie is revealed; even The Spirit seeming to long for death at the lost obedience.  Still being worked and shaped.  

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Patience for what comes with University.  When the lies, deflections and questions seem to come to an end.  You will be the first to know.  Don’t for a moment think that our university structure isn’t riddled with the same.  Of my four biological children there are only two associate degrees and one bachelors. 

They could not stomach the gaming and manipulating now part of what challenged this father to come here and try.

Please pray also for the church.  The higher bureaucratic church whose personages of power are missing so very much beautiful by leaving us unaccompanied. 

Please pray also in thankfulness with us that we are free of any expectations and demands of that accompaniment as well.  God’s will is so much better, always!

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Yes please …

Relationships here on the ground in addition to my imperfections and mistakes are being used to try to drive us away from our striving.  Each day is a sincere struggle.  Hopefully that means we’re on the right track.  Please pray for those around us.  Please pray for the local faces which fearlessly now smile and greet us as we walk.  

Please keep crumpling us up and throwing us at God.  That is where we need to be.  God will sort us out.

One day at a time.  Just like how you each live.  Just one day at a time. 

Thank you, each of you.

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

What to Pray for:

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

All the tough and blessing expressed above –

The love of folks –

Whatever is on your hearts and minds for us –

For our children and grand-children who miss us.. 

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

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

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

For each and every one of you –

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

Prayers, Your Prayer, Even your groaning prayers makes all the difference..

Vern W

May life be as Music to your Heart – May Music be as Heart to your Life – May Heart be as Life to your Music

 Dear Cherished Interested’s,                                                                                         September 25th, 2023

Forgive me..  Yesterday I did not get to any service by 6:30 am.  Hilda demanded that I rest.  By the time we needed to be on our way to The Children’s Village it had rained hard so..  Stupid little truck was unable to climb out of the hole the house is in. 

We walked, about a kilometer, to The Children’s Village and did Sunday school with the children together then I had the privilege to worship with the Mama’s.  The mama’s are not all Lutheran, not all Pentecostal, not all any specific brand of Christian relation-ship-ing with our Lord and Savior.  They are comfortable enough now to have discussion during early worship about what songs they want to sing.

I can read and pronounce Swahili well enough to sound fluent even as my brain seems steadfast against comprehension.  This means that I can sing many songs that have common tunes from North America.  These are the older ones here and familiar to older Lutheran and other U.S. Protestant denominations.

‘Tenza za Rohoni’ is a small yellow softcover book of song lyrics available from local Lutheran and other sources for about $1.20 each.  We’ve been gathering some to The Children’s Village and both Hilda and I have a copy with us most Sundays.  Song lyrics only, so the tunes need to be known.  I do not know them all.  The Mama’s pick the songs for worship as we worship and lead the music themselves letting me join them. 

As we have been consistent for well over a year now, I can sing some of the songs with known tunes by myself and may start Sunday school or worship at The Children’s Village by sitting off to one side and singing hymns while people gather and quiet themselves.   

Quiet themselves, is a relative paradigm.  The Children can be very boisterous and combative among themselves now that they know that they do not need to perform for Hilda and I.  They can be their imperfect yet growing selves.  We are trusted by these children with all sorts of behavior with them knowing that we will be back. 

This is amazing given that these are children who have lost their own people, parents, siblings, extended family, community.  We are not therapists nor counselors.  This is only possible through prayer, your prayer.  Thank you for your time and heart for these moments of prayer.  

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After The Children’s Village, we walked about half way back to the house to Mulala Church and sat out on the porch, steadfastly communicating our comfort there with squirmy little ones there too. 

It is a big fundraising time of year and this little mountain church is trying to build another floor and hopefully roof over the new church building next the existing church.  The new church is sized large enough for the whole community to gather together, with room for growth, and not only in shifts on Sunday mornings.  The worship schedule has shifted this month to accommodate this month’s activities.

We left on foot before worship was over to walk the three or so kilometers to Nkoaranga.  There we were swept into consuming fresh fire roasted goat, boiled goat soup, special time bottles of soda and large extended family gratitude celebration.

Celebration for grown and gathered bulk food grains.  Sacks of corn, two loads for the stupid little truck.  Sacks of beans from a two day harvest this last week Wednesday and Thursday, and manual threshing and clean up at a farm plot located off google maps over an hour away. 

This bean harvest also brought by the stupid little truck with ten people crammed in it among each other and the harvest.  This is trust too.  I am trusted to drive the still 2 wheel only drive truck through one water crossing after another loaded with laughing people to a place in the bush that even locals struggle to find.  Then that overloaded truck and laughing people back to, then up on the mountain all safely.  Your Prayers make this possible. 

I often am confronted with severe moments of consternation around safely transporting people who have no experience with transportation.  At least not the experience that I have.  They are all so young and often so full of themselves.  Clueless as to consequences to actions that they so casually assume are fine. 

I pick my battles and keep my keys in my pocket until loads are adjusted to be least problematic.  Then pray openly for success and that when another, known one, along the road decides to climb on top of the load or the roof of the truck that they can stay there until we get to wherever we are going.

When only people are in the bed now, they let and even expect me to place them, not sitting on the sides but, on the floor of the bed with arms interlocked with each other and the roll bar behind the cab.  They know Babu is crazy but comply well.

This last week’s grains transportation happened around 18 hours of harvest and threshing by hand for twelve people, two arriving by motorcycle.  Clean up and chaff hauling with five then six people the following day.  Two trips to the bush plot. 

My nose is peeling badly but I stuff my pockets with extra handkerchiefs regularly so with three I can make head covering to protect everything else including the back of my neck and head, so I am very tired but really good. 

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

Monday we drove to Kilimanjaro.  There we were guests in the mountain home, above 6000’, of the surviving business partner of the last active African contact I had who died of COVID while we were driving across the US on our way to Tanzania.

This reconnection with David, who lost most of his contacts into America at the same time Elizabeth died, is also answer to prayer.  This is what prayer does, over and over.. 

Hilda and I were spoiled with another oversize bed which extended to below my feet, cold and hot inside running water and inside plumbing.  Accommodation in David’s ancestral home built into the Kilimanjaro landscape and completely engulfed in native species gardens and mountain trails.  Subsistence agriculture carefully and respectfully married into the nooks and crannies of the home of his fathers and grandfathers.

Food from the very grounds prepared to appeal to cosmopolitan eye and palate served not twice, like most Tanzanians have, but three times a day.  Our Tuesday night supper with David included Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, and Kris Kristofferson enjoyably playing softly behind easy conversation.

Again, Hilda and I are blessed to be seen as a safe place for someone who fits into their community but not quite completely.  David is a Chagga man, Doctor of Veterinary Medicine trained in Germany, who serves his local communities on Kilimanjaro and Arusha by employing and training local people.  This he did for years with Elizabeth, his American and then African business partner. 

David’s experiences are amazing and larger than his community, region, nation, and even family can comprehend or help him contain and share.  Somehow, we let him be more fully himself by being quiet and sharing what comes out in joy, sadness, hope, and longing.

Those local hymns that I can sing some on my own?  David was amazed that I was singing songs he heard from his father and as a young one in church here on Kilimanjaro.  He now has a songbook too and we sang, us two old guys, on one of his porches among trees and flowers and birds, hymns that bring joy and challenge to our friend.  You did that!  I don’t plan any of this.  Praying my will to the back like you do lets this stuff happen.  Thank You!

David wants me to record a country and western Christmas song I wrote just a few years back.  This will by my first try and I would never consider it for anyone who wasn’t as sincerely interested as David.  Technology is limited.  But please pray that it is adequate enough for his enjoyment of an original song that I thought no one would ever hear.         

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The Sunday before yesterday..  We went early to the cash machine at the bank.  A guard who works there, and loves to soften his hardness to show Hilda the monkeys that gather to play safely behind where people go, trusted us with an eye prescription.  An eye prescription he was given when, in desperation, he went to the hospital.  This person is someone who has never asked us for anything.

Former professional military and familiar with firearms because of that, his far-sight is still excellent.  Paperwork has become impossible and this can be seen as he struggles to find where he must sign over shifts and perform other documentation. 

He did not really know, because he could not see his own prescription, but he trusted us, alone as we were there, early Sunday morning.  Because of my brilliant, kind and loving Islamic Pharmacist and his wonderful wife I have a stash of reading glasses now in the truck. 

I was able to walk to the truck and return within seconds with a pair of reading glasses close enough for that guard trusting us to see the message I had written for the day lain out in front of him.  Trust is tears and hugs with an accompanying head on your shoulders from a former East African Military man.  Tears for being able to see.  Tears for being able read scripture again.  Tears for being given scripture to read.

This is one of those amazing side things that become so central for individuals who can no longer read, but long to.  I’ve been able to help non-biological grandparents of that precious mother to her sister’s children and grandchildren.  People who helped save her so she can now save her sister’s children.  

The response is so similar.  Disbelief, then tears.  They can’t help it.  Like the Mama’s at The Children’s Village last year who leapt, danced and cried out with joy reading scripture before them as my reading test is often Genesis chapter one in Swahili. 

The Biological Grandmother, most responsible for saving the life of that precious industrious busy one, was able to read the large print MWANZO, or Genesis, but no more than that.  She turned to me while holding my Bible in her lap after reading MWANZO and thanked me profusely for giving her the word of The Lord to hold.   

Please pray that we can make a time to gather her with her granddaughter to visit the same eye doctor in Arusha who helped with renewing her granddaughter’s glasses.  I fear cataracts.  I don’t know enough yet to know how or what can be done with those here.  Otherwise her eyes seem amazingly healthy and clear given her age and decades of cooking over wood fire.

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

Another meeting this week, now scheduled for Thursday, about Tumaini University at Makumira and my potential enrollment there.  ? ? ?

Again, my will to the back please.  God’s will is so much better, always!

Please pray also for the church.  The higher bureaucratic church whose personages of power are missing so very much beautiful by leaving us unaccompanied. 

Please pray also in thankfulness with us that we are free of any expectations and demands of that accompaniment as well.  God’s will is so much better, always!

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

Yes please …

Relationships here on the ground in addition to my imperfections and mistakes are being used to try to drive us away from our striving.  Each day is a sincere struggle.  Hopefully that means we’re on the right track.  Please pray for those around us.  Please pray for the local faces which fearlessly now smile and greet us as we walk.  

Please keep crumpling us up and throwing us at God.  That is where we need to be.  God will sort us out.

One day at a time.  Just like how you each live.  Just one day at a time. 

Thank you, each of you.

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

What to Pray for:

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

All the tough and blessing expressed above –

The love of folks –

Whatever is on your hearts and minds for us –

For our children and grand-children who miss us.. 

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

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

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

For each and every one of you –

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

Prayers, Your Prayer, Even your groaning prayers makes all the difference..

Vern W

May life be as Music to your Heart – May Music be as Heart to your Life – May Heart be as Life to your Music

 Dear Cherished Interested’s,                                                                                         September 12th, 2023

Noon again on Tuesday. 

The staircase for access to the much smaller upper floor is assembled and just this morning sanded.  Land lady, precious Aunt to that precious mother and grandmother to the offspring of her sister just arrived and took the stair up and back down. 

She arrived this early afternoon with her hair free and loose, like Hilda’s hair.  She wanted to show Hilda.  The stairs?  Approved.  This is part of how we pay rent.  Things like a stair, not hair.    

The stair goes in a space that demands a very large rise is overcome within very little run.  So, I built a very simple yacht stair.  Three stingers/risers with split staggered treads/steps.  The steps let into, dado’s cut into, the risers enabling the number of treads/steps to be doubled in the same rise. 

The rickety eight rung rough ladder that left to never return a couple months or more ago has now been replaced by a sixteen step stair that rises steeply but surely and comfortably.  The left foot has eight steps.  The right foot has eight different steps.  They are offset from each other but sharing the center riser which has offset dado’s cut on both sides.    

Quick moment about availability of tools.  My circular saw is really decent.  Chinese but built well, solid, and 220v verses 110v means power is really decent. 

The sander, same manufacturer, is a different story.  I bought what I wanted, a larger random orbit sander, but had to return it for a refund.  The sander is available.  Nowhere, locally or Arusha, were the right size abrasives available.   Ended up with a small square one with abrasives labelled 150 but are more like about 60 grit.  Durable abrasives, inexpensive abrasives but no super fine work possible with them.  The stairs, though beautiful local hardwood, will be painted.  Sometime..

I groused a little while Hilda was brushing the dust off the steps and she said she was sorry.  Well, not her doing.  It is the way it is and if we really want to be identifiable in any way for the local folks we need to live with the same stuff, same problems, same tools or lack of as they do. 

Thank you for praying my head on straight. 

Having built tools for a cabinet maker whose cabinets were not only supreme but art pieces, I can be really anal for details.  But I am not here for that. 

I am that sander that does not work well.  I am that mislabeled abrasive that can’t do fine work.  Sometimes maybe I’m the saw.  Sometimes I’m the writer.  Sunday’s this logger preaches.  Whatever it is I am.  Keep praying my will to the back. 

Keep praying me into the hands of Jesus.  The king of all master craftsmen who seems to love a challenge.  The challenge of using even broken, mismatched, and ill-defined tools like me.  Thank You!!

Whenever I do something with my hands or teach something like driving or stop in the road to help a motorcycle courier right and re-load his over-loaded bike, it attracts attention.

Locals here find it very hard to believe that first world folks know how to do anything with their hands and bodies.  Given what I have met here for European and North American representation, that is sadly the evidence locals have been given.  Mouths that work and lecture and demand.  Not much else.

Our shoes are each being washed by hand by that mother of three who comes here to help.  The shelf they go on by the side door has been washed too.  This is how she takes care of her own family.  That is how she takes care of us. 

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

Sunday was Cathedral, then last minute celebration cake for the Sunday school and confirmands delivered to Mulala church by us on the way to the Children’s Village and Sunday school and Mama Worship service there.  Then we chilled a while and ate before going down to Makumira Secondary School to deliver Sunday message there as well.

That last minute celebration cake got thrown into my Saturday around teaching English and taking a truck load of ladies to the wedding of a cousin of that precious one mothering her sister’s offspring. 

The cake ended up being delivered to Hilda at home by motorcycle courier while I was taking that truckload of angels to the wedding.  No, I do not know all of them, but that is normal.  You just do what you are told and laugh at any linguistic or cultural consternation trusting that forgiveness will be given. 

It does get given here.  I know that about Tanzania.  That is why Hilda is here.  The people of Tanzania are kind.  At least the ones we have been sent to or, have been sent to us.  Thank you for that prayer.

At the wedding, their driver, me, sat at one of about a hundred round tables with eight angels.  I sat between two women with the same name.  One, our land-lady, the other her precious brilliant niece who is raising her sisters legacy, working a full time job, running her employers household, and helping another family with a one van mountain taxi service, and several other women with a small storefront, and a small micro-farm, and a couple cows, and still loves and takes care of Hilda and I. 

These are people to work with.  Luke 10 verse 7, stick it out, don’t get chased away, don’t get enticed away, stick it out and thank God for it because.  Because working together is rare blessing. 

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

Sunday before last was a fund raising Sunday at Mulala church for the elders.  Older than Hilda and I. 

They came with what they could bring.  It was our day to be there for early worship and I preached, Mchungaji Ombeni translating.  After, outside, before the close of worship, two cows were auctioned off as offering along with much produce. 

Yes, you can laugh at me.  I bought a smart looking straight backed red and white bull calf with good legs and feet.  That in support of the elders and in memory of my mother and father, aunt and uncle.  Loaded it into the stupid little truck.  Hobbled it until it laid down.  Took it to that precious one on our way down to Makumira Secondary and worship there.  She was overjoyed.  She and Hilda have named it “Kimo.”  

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

I am pleased to report that Hilda continues to be significantly better.  She is walking up the hill without significant discomfort. 

As I write this she is working with Mchungaji Ombeni on the other couch to write a proposal for the purchase of tents, chairs, and trike bike truck for event rentals.  Serving people with nearly nothing requires something.  We are sought to help figure that out because we have technology and ability. 

I’m trying to write to you.  Hilda keeps asking me questions.  Mchungaji is laughing as I continue to direct Hilda to let me work.     

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

Nothing yet about the latest government kufuffle vis-à-vis Tumaini University Makumira.  I have had verbal reports that the university indeed wants me..  No idea about how they want me or how much it will cost. 

Government and big elite education..  Luke 10 verse 3 it is, lambs among wolves.  They plan, I know nothing, those who have gathered to help us, shepherd us by engaging the wolves and keeping us out of it.  Wild..  Your praying does amazing things.

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

Yes please …

Relationships here on the ground in addition to my imperfections and mistakes are being used to try to drive us away from our striving.  Each day is a sincere struggle.  Hopefully that means we’re on the right track.  Please pray for those around us.  Please pray for the local faces which fearlessly now smile and greet us as we walk.  

Please keep crumpling us up and throwing us at God.  That is where we need to be.  God will sort us out.

One day at a time.  Just like how you each live.  Just one day at a time. 

Thank you, each of you.

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

What to Pray for:

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

All the tough and blessing expressed above –

The love of folks –

Whatever is on your hearts and minds for us –

For our children and grand-children who miss us.. 

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

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

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

For each and every one of you –

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

Prayers, Your Prayer, Even your groaning prayers makes all the difference..

Vern W

May life be as Music to your Heart – May Music be as Heart to your Life – May Heart be as Life to your Music

 Dear Cherished Interested’s,                                                                                       August 29th, 2023

It is almost noon on a Tuesday.  While our house is being cleaned we can hear the voices of many singing children from a nearby Secondary School close by us here on the Mountain.  It is cloudy and sound is staying close to the surface of the mountain to spill softly into our open doors and windows.

Praise music from the mouths of children woven into birdsong.  As healing as nature itself.  Each voice is an eternity of stories in the making.  So much to pray for.  So beautiful to pray for.  To be prayed into, unknown by those voices and their families, times, and places. 

Do we believe that our prayer is heard?  Do we believe that our prayer is valuable?  It is.  Even the prayers that slip out through The Spirits groaning for us, unnoticed by us.  To perceive beauty we may need to already have the gift of beauty within to touch its reflection in the world around us. 

Please trust that The Spirit houses its perfect character within each of us who cherish the beauty of creation and her occupants.  The Spirit challenging and growing us stronger in our shared bodily housing as we appreciate more than malign, as we revere more than resign, as we eagerly anticipate our next moment more than worry and fear what comes from living in this creation so very dear.

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

Yesterday, I was frustrated.  A dearest precious one who is mothering the children and grandchildren of her deceased sister jumped in the truck Saturday and together we finally went and found wood so I can build a staircase up to the floor beneath the metal roof of the house we are in. 

We also bought a bed for another woman wonder working under the caring gaze of that dearest precious one.  Both the boards and bed parts got tied onto/into the stupid little truck.  The bed lets yet another mother, and solution for other women and children, now find rest nearby her overfull home of living responsibilities.  It is in use. 

It was sunny and dry, yesterday was my chance to get going on that staircase.  My layout lines were wrong.  I needed an eraser.  I have purchased many and yet none were anywhere in the house.  Every tool, every carefully picked and watched over, while being planed and edged, board had to be put away.  I had to drive off the mountain to find a pencil eraser. 

I found pencil erasers and got three good sized ones for about 40 cents.  While off the mountain, I can get three whole cooked chickens for five bucks each.  Hilda has been sick so, that’s what I did.  We had chicken soup last night for three people and have plenty still for multiple meals this week.

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

On the way back up the hill, after getting erasers and chickens, I sucked it up and said thank you for taking away all the erasers and making me remember that I am not here to get comfortable doing what I already know how to.  I resolved further to try to write about Hilda’s illness and some head-shaking awesome discovery only made visible by our need in her regard. 

Yes, Hilda has been sick.  Very sick.  Missing Sunday worship and Sunday school multiple weeks.  Only this morning has the smile truly returned to her.  That after putting on her shoes and marching up out of the hole, the house is in, to test and see that her breathing is returning, her cardiovascular response to physical exercise and stress is no longer severely debilitating. 

Last week I took Hilda into town two days in a row for clinic and hospital visitation required by her failing health.  I shared every medical test and each visit with our adult children and asked them to pray.  They and those nearby us had their prayers heard and answered. 

The mother of three, yet another woman of this mountain, and the next mountain over having been born of that tribe, who cleans and washes for us, came sick to her duties today.  So Hilda has been nursing the diligent one while that diligent one is cleaning and washing our clothes.  No, we would not take her work from her now.  Her efforts for us lets her keep those three children in school.  Her efforts for us, even when sick or beaten badly, keep her strong in her self-reliance and reliance on God who supports her through some terrible things. 

This house she cleans, these dirty clothes, are not just work to overcome but are markers of a safe place she comes to twice a week to earn her children’s futures.  We did not understand that we would be used in this way.  We can still learn.  We are trusted now by many precious ones to see, to listen, to learn, and to appreciate. 

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

Where we live the precious ones we serve are mostly diligent women, mostly Christian of one flavor or another.  But, not all are impoverished yet diligent women. 

Friday is the weekly Islamic day of prayer.  I was in town a rare second day, without Hilda, hoping she would rest.  Around helping my young Confirmation student gather things for boarding school, I went to our Islamic pharmacist to hopefully collect any medications.  Medications required after testing and the prior day’s consultation with the recommended young Islamic physician we had been immediately sent to on Thursday. 

Instead of any medications I was instructed to get Hilda a chest x-ray ASAP.  Blood testing showed high levels of inflammation markers.  That and symptomology demanded expeditiousness in further testing. 

Thankfully gathering for boarding school was done for the day and we very nearly flew back to Mulala.  We being my Confirmation student, a young married head-man in training, whose Uncle’s funeral I attended seated next to his father and for whom I have become a trusted one who helps and gets helped without any money changing hands.  If I try to pay for his time I get told no.  And me driving.

The same dearest precious one who is mothering the children and grandchildren of her deceased sister, was contacted immediately to find us a place to get Hilda’s chest x-ray.  By the time we had collected Hilda we had a place back in town for that x-ray.  We dropped off the student with his things and took off heading back into town at the posted speed limit, I usually go 10 under the limit. 

Traffic police waved me over but after a few tense seconds of me demanding that I get my sick wife to the hospital for an x-ray and pointing to her in the back seat, they relented and waved us on.  It seemed like a long time but probably less than an hour later we had the x-ray and were on the way to that young Physician’s office from the day before yet again.  

Remember that this was Friday.  Islamic day of prayer.

Also this is not North America and we are free to share x-ray images and test results by phone message with anyone.  No signed paperwork needed.  We are still adults here where self-care is king and necessary as physicians are too few. 

We get to the young Islamic Physician’s office and receive a text that he will be on his way to join us soon.  After joining us at his office he looks at Hilda’s x-ray and asks her about it.  This young Islamic man has already clued in that Hilda has a lot good going on even when sick.  She points and explains that there is no sign of infection and that the x-ray is clear. 

This young physician agrees.  Then we hear the rest of the story..

Mohamad, our pharmacist, who took his training in the U.K. and chose to return to serve among the poor in TZ and who I have been trusted to listen to and care about since his father’s death this year.  This young physician who took his training in the United Arab Emirates yet returned to serve in poor TZ. 

They both chose to be available to guide me before, then went to prayer. 

They then gathered other older Islamic physician specialists at the Mosque immediately after prayer to discuss Hilda, her test results and plan further testing and treatment.  Somehow no cost to us for this kindness is expected.

The fact that we have done what we believe have been told to do by scripture and the person of our Lord and Savior.  The fact that we sold home and came, even after the death of both my contacts here, to try to serve has permeated the overtaxed and overworked Islamic medical professional community here. 

They too have chosen to take possession of us as their own just like these precious impoverished diligent women of the mountain.        

Do you believe that our prayer is heard?  Do you precious ones believe that our prayer is valuable?  It is.  Even the prayers that slip out through The Spirits groaning for us, unnoticed by us.  To perceive beauty we may need to already have the gift of beauty within to touch its reflection in the world around us. 

Please trust that The Spirit houses its perfect character within each of us who cherish the beauty of creation and her occupants.  The Spirit challenging and growing us stronger in our shared bodily housing as we appreciate more than malign, as we revere more than resign, as we eagerly anticipate our next moment more than worry and fear what comes from living in this creation so very dear.

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

August 25^th is another step towards Theological training here.  August 25^th came and went with a bounce back into the governmental process yet again..  Word is that the University is ready for any final steps but the government needs something more.  Pray please.. 

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

Yes please …

Relationships here on the ground in addition to my imperfections and mistakes are being used to try to drive us away from our striving.  Each day is a sincere struggle.  Hopefully that means we’re on the right track.  Please pray for those around us.  Please pray for the local faces which fearlessly now smile and greet us as we walk.  

Please keep crumpling us up and throwing us at God.  That is where we need to be.  God will sort us out.

One day at a time.  Just like how you each live.  Just one day at a time. 

Thank you, each of you.

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

What to Pray for:

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

All the tough and blessing expressed above –

The love of folks –

Whatever is on your hearts and minds for us –

For our children and grand-children who miss us.. 

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

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

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

For each and every one of you –

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

Prayers, Your Prayer, Even your groaning prayers makes all the difference..

Vern W

May life be as Music to your Heart – May Music be as Heart to your Life – May Heart be as Life to your Music