My Life as an African Gypsy

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.