My Life as an African Gypsy

Did you know Jose wants to be pastor? What a precious boy.

I think Jose will suffocate to death in the next few days. The tumor, which started below his eye, has been growing at a rampant speed this week. It has come into his mouth, disfigured his teeth, and has nearly blocked his airway. He needs oxygen, but has been refusing, because his only memory of an oxygen mask is of a little girl, who died a few beds over. He believes, if he wears the oxygen mask, it means he will die.

When I left the hospital today, they were going to try and give him medicine to sleep, so that they can put the oxygen mask on without his knowing.

Looking at his mother today... she knows what coming. She looks scared and weary.

Please pray for peace in this situation. Suffocating seems like such a gruesome, horrific way to die. I pray the Lord takes Jose peacefully without much strain, more preferably in his sleep.

Will you pray with me?

How sweet it will be for Jose to meet his Savior. I think the Lord must have a special assignment for him in heaven. How nice it will be for his suffering to be over, for him to know full life.

Jon and I have visited with José and his mom twice since my last post.

On Wednesday he was worse. His little veins bulged in his neck as he labored for smalls bits of air, as his eyes rolled back, exhausted from his struggle. Upon touching his leg, with his little strength, he mustered a smile for me. My heart broke. I noticed his en-caved chest and his thin arms that looked ready to snap and wondered how he keeps going. We prayed with him and his sweet mom, as she quickly wiped the tears she let escape, and I tried to hide mine with a smile, not wanting José to know how grave the situation was. I told his mom how much I respected her for staying next to José... not all moms here would do what she is doing. She is strong. She loves well.

Today, Friday, we visited again. José looked a bit better. He's a fighter. The chemo he had on Tuesday seems to have made the tumor a little smaller. I would not have known by looking, but his breathing came easier. He was able to talk a bit, though I struggled to understand some words, because of the tumor crowding his mouth. During our visit, he even laughed a bit, chatting about lions and how smart Jesus was. I marvel at life, how it persists. Jon sat with him and continued to talk about Jesus, while his mother did some laundry and I went to visit some of the ladies. He was laying down and resting when we left.

Please continue to pray for José. His mom was so grateful when we told her we had asked you. Thank you.

Can be honest? You know how I like to be honest... sometimes to a fault. =)

But here is the deal: I was nervous to go back to hospital.

I felt like all that stuff that happened earlier this year happened to a different person. Like maybe I wasn't the right person for this job after all. I was intimidated by the silent women in their beds, by their saddened pained faces, by their bandages.

But after a short visit with a new lady (potential friend) and hearing her say that she wanted vistors, I was feeling better.

Then I heard her. My friend Sandra was there! She greeted my with a broad smile and warm kisses on the cheeks. I couldn't help but notice her extreme weight loss, her eye patch to cover her missing eye, and the beanie she wore to cover her bald head.

It was good to catch up, to be together again. I told her I liked the color of nail polish she was wearing, and with no hesitation she whipped it out of her bag and urged me to paint mine. There I sat on a hospital bed, struggling to find the correct Portuguese words, painting my nails as if we'd been old college buddies.

Every time I look at my purple nails, my heart is warmed.

This "job"... it's for me.