Old friends

This morning, Juli and I went to visit Hannah's family. I hadn't seen them since she passed away, and both of us were missing the family who had very much become like our own after our weekly visits to their home. As we drove the all-too-familiar road to their house, driving up the really rocky final stretch (the part of the drive where I thank God every single time for my incredible car), I so wished we'd find our friend by her back door, on her 1"-thick mattress pad, basking in the sun. But at the same time, it was very comforting to know that Juli no longer has to try and figure out how we can adjust her medications to alleviate the growing pain. She was now with Jesus, singing her heart out, I'm sure.

We walked up to the Bandes' humble home, and Nancy immediately came to greet us. She gave me the biggest hugs, and her eyes filled with tears, possibly from joy to have us back with them, or with pain of remembering her mom. Who knows.

During all our other visits, we either joined her in the sun, or, if she were in bed, we'd make ourselves at home at the foot of her bed. Today, for the first time ever, we sat in their simple living room. And we visited about life. Like always, we sang together, and prayed together, promising we'll be back. We won't forget them.

But as we drove off, Juli commented how things are just not the same anymore at the Bandes. Hannah's spunk was missing. Her daughter Nancy has a bit of it, though, and we had laughed with her when she was acting in a way that so closely resembled her mom. But we miss Hannah. A lot. As does her family.

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I found out today that I will be able to come to the US for a missions conference at my church in Iowa early April. I don't know my specific travel schedule yet, but I do know that I'll be spending time in the Midwest, some time at our office in the LA area, and then some time in the Northwest for class.

I look forward to seeing many of you soon!

Hannah went to be with Jesus

I just got an e-mail from my friends in Kipkaren. Hannah passed away yesterday morning. I am so very sad that I am not there for the funeral and to support the family. I am sad that I won't get to joke around with my friend any longer. I am sad that I simply won't get to see her any longer.

But I rejoice in knowing she's with Jesus. I rejoice in that fact, and in knowing that for the first time in years, she is without pain! During our last visit, my colleague Juli visited with Hannah about the fact that Jesus had gone to prepare a place for us where there will be no more tears, pain or suffering. Hannah told us that if she goes there before us, she'll take greetings to the Father. That's so like Hannah. She often joked.

But when I showed the the picture of the two of us (above), she looked serious. "Just look at that..." she said. But moments later, she was joking once again, asking me if I'd send her some chicken livers for Christmas. And she urged us again not to worry about her.

Oh, how I wish I could visit with the Bande family, to cry with them and sit with them. To talk with Nancy, who has sat by her mother's side for the past 4 years.

Thank you for those of you who've been praying for her and believing with me that Jesus will heal her. Her daughters and I visited a number of times about the miracles God has done in their lives through this season of Hannah's tumor. We talked about how we know God can heal her, but we shouldn't miss the fact that he's also doing other works. They told me how they as sisters spend time every evening worshiping Jesus, something they had never done before. They shared how they've grown in their faith, despite their frustrations with knowing God could heal their mom in an instant. He chose not to. He chose to take her home instead. In that, we rejoice.

"Just a little hospice in the bush"

I went to see my friend Hannah again today. She was yet again amazingly jolly. More than upbeat. Purely jolly, truly. When we asked how she was doing, she rubbed her face and said, "It's a little painful here..." but continued right ahead to praise God for her health.

I have so much to learn from my friend. It's so easy to grumble about silly, silly stuff. She doesn't.

She politely asked, though, if I'd bring her chicken livers once again. She'd like to have chicken livers for Christmas. I had to tell her that I'd be in South Africa for Christmas. (Since the children's party is tomorrow, I had changed my ticket so I can celebrate the day with my family.)

"Ah!" she exclaimed. "Salamia uko!" (Greet everyone there!)

I assured her I would do so, and that I'll be back. "Of course," she responded. "You're my child."

There were three nurses with me, and as we walked back to the car, one commented that this is "just a little hospice in the bush."

I wish--no, I pray, truly--that this would no longer be hospice care when I return, that God would indeed perform a miracle and heal Hannah.

That would be the greatest Christmas gift ever! Imagine...

Wondering out loud

This morning, I left home too late to make it in time for an English service in town. So I took my Bible, my Believing God Bible study guide, and my iPod. And I went to Poa Place, an outdoor restaurant-type-place. It's really a family place, and I have discovered that when you go there alone, you get ignored. Which is nice, sometimes. But not when it's your waitress ignoring you. That's an all-together different story. Besides the point.

Point is: There I was sitting, surrounded by families coming for a Sunday afternoon buffet, kids swimming, some young foreigners basking at the poolside. And I was in my own world, under my umbrella, visiting with God about Hannah.

Because I don't understand. In Matthew alone, time and again, Jesus says things like, "Your faith has made you well." Or "According to your faith, let it be done." "Let is be done for you as you wish." And then the famous "If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here,' and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you." Sometimes it was a parent believing on behalf of their child. Sometimes someone for their own healing. In the famous passage in Acts, the lame man is healed because of Peter and John's faith.

I believe God can heal Hannah. I have no doubt about it. Every time I go to visit, I go expecting to see her well! Yet her condition is deteriorating fast. Despite the fact that God can heal her. Despite her faith, and that of her family.

So I started wondering about some things. Like if I am trying to manipulate God. If I pray this way, or if I do that, surely God will answer. That would be like Romans 4: 4-5. It would be like expecting wages for work done. Or not? So what am I to do? Simply believe.

In the meantime, I will keep asking God to heal Hannah. And, I will not be offended at the fact that in the meantime, God has not yet healed her. Because God also reminded me of the passage in Matthew 11, where he was talking to John the Baptist. John was in prison, waiting to be beheaded. He was in prison despite the fact that Jesus came to set the captives free.

I don't understand it. I honestly do not believe it is God's will for Hannah and her family to be suffering the way that they are. Jesus was always about fixing what was broken, healing the sick. I do not believe this tragedy is the will of God. But it is.

Why?

I don't know.

I'm not putting this out there to ask for a theological explanation. I honestly do not think we can come up with the answer. Point is: God is God. We are not. I believe he can heal Hannah. He has not yet. But I will not give up asking God for her healing. Because I've seen him do even greater things.

And so, I will keep believing. I will keep seeking him. And I will keep asking God to show himself to Hannah and her family throughout this time. And to heal Hannah. Because he can.

"Thank you, thank you. Thank you very much."

Thank you, originally uploaded by Boyznberry.

Juli, Allison and I went to see Hannah again today.

I asked if I can take photos. She was happy to let me photograph her as she visited with Juli, Allison and her other daughters. "Other" daughters, because she calls us her daughters, too. Even though she has 7 of her own.

Hannah's health has deteriorated since I had last seen her 5 days ago. Her speech is getting more slurred. The tumor seems to be showing up below her left eye, too. She is obviously having a lot of pain.

Yet she continues to rejoice in Jesus. She broke out in worship songs a few times again during our visit. When I gave her a box of soy milk to try, hoping that it would be easier for her body to digest, she held it with both hands, lifted it up, and said a prayer of thanksgiving to God for his provision.

We left when it was clear that Hannah needed to rest. But as we paused outside in the garden and visited with the family, we heard her voice from her room, "Thank you. Thank you very much..." and saw her skinny hand waiving at us. Nancy explained how they appreciate the visits. We do, too. It's a joy to go and spend some time with her and her family, pray together, worship God together...

I'll be going back early next week to take photos of their entire family. I look forward to doing that.

In the meantime, please join me in praying for a miracle for Hannah!

(Click on the photo to see more pictures from today's visit.)