My Life as an African Gypsy

We just returned from our visit to Paulina and Beatrice’s sick mother. We met them in church two weeks ago, and they came by on Saturday to see if we would pray for their mother. Of course we would! Then we made arrangements that today, Monday, we would like to go to their house and pray with their mother in person.

We arrived at their home, which was impressively nice. Paulina and Beatrice welcomed us graciously and then we sat on the couches and prayed shortly before going to their mother’s room. Walking into their mother’s room, it was dark and there she sat with her legs straight out in front of her. They were thin. So thin. It is as if when you get sick here, you lose all fat on your body. She was wearing a lovely blue skirt, matching top and head-dress. When I commented on how stylish she looked there in bed, they told me she knew she was having visitors today. Precious.

We told her, through Paulina’s translation, how happy we were to be there with her.

She is about 73 years old, and has been a Christian since she was young. She was married at about 14 years old and at some point did three years of Bible training. She has known other American missionaries. Her husband died a few years ago, who also was trained in the Bible. Now she has remained sick for 5 years. She has been to many doctors and has had many treatments, but they don’t know what is wrong. Honestly, for here in Africa, 73 is a long and full life. I don’t think death is what is troublesome as much as the pain.

We encouraged Paulina for a little while, reminding her that Jesus too suffered, and knows suffering well. We explained that sometimes these bodies of ours fail, and we fix our eyes on the eternal life. For now we pray and ask to be strengthened by the Lord.

After talking with Paulina, her and her sister Beatrice sang a couple of hymns in Portuguese. I love hearing them harmonize; it is beautiful. Afterwards they explained that they were singing to bring the presence of the Lord, and also to sing in place of their mother, who cannot sing now. Then Jon and I sang “We Bow Down” in Setswana for them.

They sang a couple more songs, during which at one point their mother invited me to sit on the bed with her. How I love to be close and physically show my love, so I was overjoyed. We sat together, my hand on her leg, as she tried to sing along the words she could remember. It was one of those moments I store up in my heart.

When it was time to pray, we all prayed at the same in our own languages. It was beautiful to me, and I am sure a sweet fragrance unto the Lord. I was praying I began to say Jesus over and over. My eyes filled with tears as I remembered Emilia and our time together. It wasn’t a bad memory, just intense. I have grown to love ministry to the sick. We gave our last kisses and hugs and exited her room.

Entering the living room we saw that they had prepared lunch for us: boiled potatoes, rice, meat, and mango juice. What a blessing. The food was very good, as was the conversation. We enjoyed chatting and laughing as we tried to figure out words for certain things. Sometimes our Portuguese is still lacking in vocabulary!

After lunch I held a precious three month old chunky baby, as he slobbered all over and grabbed at my hair. We sang some more hymns in Portuguese before we left. They assured us that now we are family.