My Life as an African Gypsy

God has been exposing deep heart issues, forcing me to be honest with myself. Yesterday we had a friend at the hospital receive news that his daughter had died from Tuberculosis in a hospital up north. So here is the short, he has cancer, his 15 year old son had cancer and has just finished Chemo, and now his daughter is dead. My first reaction was to shake my head and think it was an unfortunate situation. I wasn't grieved though. No tears welled in my eyes, no sorrow in my soul. That bothered me. Had my heart become a little numb to death here in Mozambique? Death just happens. Often. People expect it to happen. It isn't so sad for them.

It is easy to grieve and have compassion on suffering that is in your face and before your eyes, for the person with obvious physical pain. But what about the family? What about emotional pain, that which we don't see, especially here in Mozambique, where tears are weakness and are rarely shed?

I forced myself to really think about the situation, what had happened, what this man was experiencing. I thought about my own daughters and my own husband. There. I felt deep in my gut.

I don't want to grow accustomed to suffering, to death.

From there the Lord said, "That isn't enough Layne."

Jon and my first reaction was, "Let's get him home." We'd pay what we needed to, but we would be determined to make it happen and quick. His family needed him right now. He should be there for the funeral. I felt no attachment to the money, glad to see it go to a good cause, to be a blessing. We'd pay for the round trip, making sure he would be back for the next round of Chemo.

But the Lord began to prod. Layne, you are so free with your money, and that is good, but are you so free with your life? As I began to think, I realized I had to be okay with more.

I am a planner; I hate last minute things. I don't do well with my husband traveling. There it was though, we needed to offer for Jon to drive him, which would be an overnight trip. I wrestled a bit, wanting the money to be good enough, wanting to make excuses.

No good.

So I let go. I swallowed the lump in my throat, got myself back to thinking of the grief this husband and wife must be feeling, especially the wife at home alone, now needing to plan a funeral for her own young daughter. I vocalized it and told Jon we needed to offer it.

Turns out, for various reasons, the bus was the better option for this man. I won't lie, I felt a bit relieved, but my heart had still been exposed, challenged and hopefully changed.