Sometimes God Moves Slowly--or So It Seeme to Us

I seem always to be in a hurry, but often I have to be reminded God's time and mine may be different. A case in point: the seemingly ill-fated container of goods for our Haitian friends in Petite Goave and surrounding areas!

As most of you know, a container filled with thousands of dollars worth of goods and food was shipped to Petite Goave early in March. During this past week it finally arrived at its destination, after spending more than four weeks in Port au Prince because of some crazy problem in shipping! I have prayed, cried, pled with Haitians, paced, and racked my brain about how to get it to the appointed spot. To absolutely no avail, or so it seemed. Now it's there!

Pastor Montriuel Milord, my dear friend and constant co-worker in Haiti, went to Haiti on Wednesday to see to the proper distribution of the container's goods, and he was met with more difficulties. The container was en route to Petite Goave, but someone was insisting that it not be placed in the designated spot. After much ado and with the absolute determination of my friend Pastor Maude Hyppolite, it was placed as intended on the grounds of the Methodist Mission Compound. (Maude was in the Dominican Republic working with other Haitian women who were addressing the needs in their country and how to meet as many of those needs as possible. Even absent from the country, she showed amazing competence as she had people in place to carry out the task of unloading and securing the food that would feed many who have often thought they were forgotten by the world.)

Once the container was in place, the real trouble began.

Obviously it had not been moved through the tragic streets of that little community unnoticed, and people quickly surmised correctly that it contained relief. A mob approached the Mission Compound. (Maybe "stormed" would be a better word.) So great was the threat to bodies and contents, to having the strongest overcome all plans, that the police had to be called. I wasn't there, so I can only report what I was told. Monteuil reports that it was a little frightening and dangerous, but finally order was restored, the crowd was moved away, and the unloading work could begin.

We had always said that the goods and food were not to go just to Methodists but to any in need. That was one of the reasons that I, personally, had wanted Pastor Maude to be in charge. I know her heart. She loves the sheep in her flock, but she also has great compassion for others whose needs she is well equipped to recognize. If I have ever seen anyone who is daily, moment by moment directed by God, it is she. In her absence, there was no one to determine if these people were the ones in need or if they the merely strongest who would take advantage of an opportunity to line their own pockets with the money they could make from the food they could get and sell. Both the opportunists and the needy fill the country.

Once the crowd was controlled, Montreuil gathered workers, and the container was unloaded. The food was placed in a secure place, under strong lock and key. Maude is back now, and I'll call her tomorrow to find out more details.

I write before getting further details because I want to think for a few minutes about the lessons learned. Why, when the need was so great, did God not intervene? Why, with all my pacing and praying, after making funds available and supplying tents, did God not move them forward to their appointed destination? Why had this whole process that should have taken about seven days taken almost six weeks?

We learned a great deal about man's inhumanity to man, even to those whom they would call their own. We relearned about a terrible thing called "turf protection." We learned that though people often begin with the best intentions, sometimes hearts change tragically to be governed by greed and a desire for personal gain or credit. But more than anything else, we learned the importance of absolute trust in God, in his overriding purpose in all we do, and in our own absolute need to realize that without him we can literally do no thing!

Thanks to the generosity of many people, Haitians in little communities of Petite Goave, Carrenage, Olivier, and Guimnee now know they are not forgotten. They can now go to sleep protected from the rain, with tummies full of good rice and beans. I cannot tell you how I praise God for each one who trusted me with the dollars to accomplish this awesome task!

Haiti's Beautiful People

I promised yesterday to tell you about Vinnie and Calvin. I want to add one other, and I'll begin with her.

When I went to Haiti the first time, one of the first persons I met was my now much-loved friend, Maude Hyppolite. Maude is a lovely, well-educated tiny woman who is pastor of seven churches and District Superintendent of the Miragoane District. She is also the person into whose care all mission teams in the Petite Goave are entrusted. She, with a limited staff, manages the Mission House and takes extremely good care of all of us.

Pastor Maude, as most people call her, is about 15 years younger than I am, grew up and was educated in Port au Prince. For many years she was a teacher and headmistress of a school. During her time at the school, she began to sense God's call on her life. She left her school, moved to Jamaica, and went back to school for further graduate study--this time to Seminary. A few years later she was one of the only--possibly the only--woman serving as pastor of churches in the Haiti Methodist Church. Women seldom rise to such important roles in Haiti, and it was doubly surprising when she was made a District Superintendent.

She has one church that is near her home, but most of them are in distant rural places, often high on the top of some mountain range. Maude carefully attends to the needs of all those entrusted to her as their shepherd. I love going about the community with her, for people stop our car on the street to tell her about some person who is sick, or a baby born, or some other bit of news in one of her many churches. When she pulls our car over to the curb, blows the horn, someone always come out to answer her questions about some person for whom she has been praying.

I love to be with her when she prays. Her words are filled with respect as she speaks to her Lord, but they are also extremely personal. There is no question that she is talking to someone she knows. I have at times been embarrassed, feeling as if i were eavesdropping on a private conversation.

Maude has a decided limp, the result of a childhood illness that I assume was polio. But nothing slows her down. When a missionary from Texas was injured in the recent quake, she walked miles to get help from the nearest medical facility.

She loves to laugh, carries two phones with her at all times, can barely see over the steering wheel of her car, and seldom slows much during her busy day. She never married.

You have to know her in order to understand about the other two whom I have promised to introduce. Maude's sister found Vinnie somewhere in rural Haiti, and she brought her to the city to live with her and go to school (with, of course, Vinnie's parents approval). Vinnie was long past the usual six years for beginning school, but she started just the same, proving that she was as smart as her benefactor had expected. When Maude's sister came with her husband to the U.S., Vinnie would have had to go back to the country, but Maude took her to live with her in the Mission House.

Vinnie is a beautiful girl, twenty-five years old, who now has two more years of high school to earn her diploma. She has a wonderful smile, loves to dress up in genes and sling heel shoes. quickly and freely smiles. She works without complaint to make all missionaries comfortable, seeing that we have our much-needed coffee every morning early, cooking things that she recognizes we enjoy, and making every effort to make the table and the food presentation attractive with a very limited amount of options in both food and utensils.

Last year someone gave me some money to buy something for Vinnie, and we purchased a pair of goats to be sent to her father in the country to begin a small business for her. She was pleased with the gift, but being a typical girl, she is most excited when we bring her gifts such as costume jewelry, or a denim skirt, or a cute blouse.

I'm going to investigate the possibility of getting a visa for her to come to the U.S. for a visit with Maude this summer. That will not be easy because she is not Maude's child. She can get a passport easily but a visa is another problem.

Then there's Calvin, who also lives at the Mission House. Calvin is the son of a young woman who sometimes helps Maude at the house. His mother cannot care for him, and Maude wants him to be educated. He is a handsome ten year old boy, much lighter skin than most of the Haitians, huge brown eyes, and a smile that would melt any heart. He has beautiful manners, understands more English than he will admit, and is most appreciative of anything we take to him. I have watched him play, and he is imaginative, creating toys from twigs, socks, or whatever is at hand.

Maude is careful to see that Calvin is regularly in school, and he is progressing as expected according to his age. She also wants to be able to bring him to the U.S., but a visa for him will be as difficult to obtain as the one for Vinnie.

There are teachers and children at the school in Carrenage whom I know, love, and look forward to seeing each time I go. But these are the three who are most precious to me. These are three who show me what Haitians at their best are like. They are beautiful, giving, loving, unselfish people. They are my Haitian family in my Haitian home, the Mission House.

Please pray for Maude, Vinnie, and Calvin this spring and summer, that they will be safe when the storms come until we can get the house repaired for them to return to the safety of their home.

God Never Tells Us to Do the Impossible

About 6 a.m. on Tuesday before we were to leave on Friday, I got a call from Pastor Maude, my trusted contact in Petite Goave. We talked about my upcoming trip on the weekend and how great it would be to see each other again. Then she asked if I'd do something for her. She said that many people were unable to get to church now because of the damage to their homes, their cars, and the roads--sometimes for the damage to their own bodies. She said that she is going to the countryside to take communion to some of these, and she has no "proper" containers to take the holy elements in. Could I, she asked, find a small set to hold the wine and the bread that she could carry in her purse. Not knowing how I would manage, and with only a little hesitancy, I said I would find one.

Of course, I know that there are lovely communion sets available, but could I find one before we left? I asked several people and could not find one. I called the closest bookstore in Leesburg, Florida. They had one. $50! That doesn't sound so bad, but I had spent money for supplies, for a tent, for emergency food. I was just about "spent out." But Maude needed it, and how could I say that Holy Communion for those in need was not worth another $50? "Send it, fastest way," I said.

Tuesday afternoon, I went home for lunch, and there on the door was a note. I wasn't expecting anything, so I opened the envelope and found a note from a woman that I had met at a luncheon the day before, a woman I had never met before who doesn't even live in this town. Her note was simple. "Thank you for what you are doing in Haiti," she said. Enclosed was a check for $50. Isn't God amazing?

Then there was another incredible experience that week. I got up early to spend some time in prayer before I got busy for the day. I am so guilty of talking too much when I pray, of forgetting that I need to listen to God as well as tell him all the things I think he needs to know. At one point in my prayer, he seemed to be encouraging me to be still. Verses I'd committed to memory began to pop into my mind, such as "Be still and know that I am God," or "Put a guard over my mouth that I might not sin against thee." So I actually said out loud, "God, are you telling me to stop talking? Okay. I will." In the stillness two people came into my mind along with a figure--$1000. It had only been a couple of days since I had on faith promised a gift to Maude and had the $50 supplied. But now God seemed to be telling me to give money to two people whom he had actually brought to my mind and another who was unclear. I didn't argue with him, but I finished my prayers assuming that I was imagining things.

All during the day, I was oh, so busy because I was supposed to meet John and John Petro at their home at 3:00 p.m. to begin our trip to Miami where we would stay the night, flying out on Saturday morning for Port au Prince. About 11:00 I remembered several things that I had forgotten. I jumped in the car and hurried to the church. As I passed the mail boxes, I noticed an envelope in my box, grabbed it and continued to my office.

I did the couple of things I needed to do before leaving and noticed the envelope on my desk where I had tossed it as I came in. Quickly I opened it, to find a lovely note from someone that she hoped the letter would arrive before I left. She wanted to have a part in the work I was doing in Haiti, and she had enclosed a check. You guessed it. $1000! I sat down and cried.

While I was in Petite Goave, i took $350 to a woman who is the matriarch in a huge family--a woman whose wrinkled face belies her young years (much younger than I), who has a huge responsibility for all the children running around in her compound, whose compassion goes beyond anything I can imagine. I rolled the bills into a tight little roll and put them in her hand. With tears, a hug, and laughter she thanked me. The whole family--immediate and extended--would eat for days.

A man who has helped me over and over again also received an unexpected $350--a lot of money to a man who earns little! I cannot imagine how he'll use it, but he has called me since I returned to thank me again.

Finally, as I left my tent for the last time on Tuesday morning, I looked around me at the hungry people in our tent city, some with a piece of bread for their breakfast, some with only a piece of mango. I asked Pastor Maude how much money it would take to buy food for each family there --about seventeen of them--for several days. She was hesitant to say because I had already given her money to feed the children at the school at Carrenage, more to pay the teachers there, more to buy the roof for the church, more to buy food for the families at the church. My own church has been extraordinarily generous in their giving, and I had taken a lot of money with me to use where she and i recognized real need. I had given almost all of it away, and she knew it. She is also not a grasping woman. She asks for little. Her hesitation came out of her desire not to expect too much of us. Finally, she reluctantly told me that she could feed the entire little city for several days with about $300. Exactly what I had left in my pocket from the lady's $1000 check.

The Haitians are right! "Bonye bon tout ton; e tout ton Bonye bon." "God is good every day; every day God is good."

I'll try to tell you about Vinnie and Calvin tomorrow. Bless you, every one!

Getting Settled

We had arrived from Port au Prince at about 2:30 or 3:00 on Saturday, and by the time we had greeted Maude, Vinnie, and Calvin (The latter two are children who do not belong to Maude but whom she has more or less adopted and who live and work with her in the mission house. Another story for another day.) and gone to purchase the food for distribution the following day, it was beginning to get dark. Our tents were not set up.

Hurriedly we went to the "tent city" just outside the inner gate of the compound and began to work. Patience and Bill (my children) had shown me how to do that before I left home, and I had taken it down by myself; however, little things that were so important seemed difficult, especially as the light of day was gone! Finally enough had been done to make the tent secure for the night, and I fell into bed.

One problem, however, that I failed to mention. There was no bed! I had brought a pad and a very light sleeping bag, but all that went down to the ground. I got down with relative ease, but I quickly realized that getting up would be another story! If you are reading this and you don't know me, I should let you in on the secret. I will soon be 79. My knees do not work as they once did, so getting down is one thing, and getting up is altogether another!

Deciding to face the rising part only when it was absolutely necessary, I relaxed and quickly slipped into sleep--in the middle of my prayers of thanks for a safe journey. Sometime around 1:00 I was awakened to the sounds of "tent city." It was not really disruptive; it was actually an unusual experience I won't forget.

I listened to a mother speaking softly and soothingly to a child who cried. The cry was not a cry for attention but the little sobs that come being afraid. I realized this must be going on all over Haiti, as children still terrified by what they have seen and heard wake in the night, again afraid for their very lives. I pictured the mother, holding her child, and reassuring him/her that the worst was over, that all would really be all right. Though they have very little, this child must have missed the familiarity of home. Sleeping in that big tent with so many others was no longer a game. The fear returned in the pitch black dark of the night.

From another tent I heard the soft voice of a woman singing hymns. I could not understand the words she sang, but the tunes were familiar and I could whisper with her the familiar words that had comforted me at times in the past. "It is well with my soul," "great is thy faithfulness," "hallelujah, hallelujah." The great songs of our faith are not restricted to any one language.

A little gray goat that I had seen running around before I entered my tent began to plead to be released from the tent next to me, but no one would open the door. At first I wondered why, and then I realized that he'd been brought into the safety of the tent so that some hungry soul could not get him when he was unprotected during the night. I wondered how many times I had cried out for God to set me free from something that I thought was confining, only to have him refuse. Just as the goat did not understand being kept cloistered in a tent, I had sometimes not understood God's "no" to my plea to be set free. The following morning I saw the little goat bounce from the tent and welcome his freedom as he ran around the compound looking for whatever goats eat, investigating the new day as he paused here and there.

Just before I had entered my tent to rest, Pastor Maude had handed me a plastic pail. As I lay on my pad, I heard the reason for it. One after another, sounds of water hitting another pail came to my ears. Even in the midst of the devastation that surrounded us, people were trying to maintain some aspect of sanitation, using a pail in the night instead of going out to empty a full bladder on the ground. I, too, learned a "new exercise ' in the night in the tent city.

The wind picked up as I lay there, and as it blew rather furiously, I wondered if there were any warning when a quake occurs. It was just wind, but it seemed louder and stronger than usual. Was this just because I was in a tent and not inside four solid walls? I wasn't really afraid, but I was alert, wondering what I should do if the tremors began. I had forgotten to ask Maude about that before we crawled into our respective tents.

Then the rain began, a drop here and there, and then coming down in earnest. It had been a long time since I'd slept in a tent in the rain--about 40 or 45 years! I loved the sound as it hit the rain catcher on my tent, even enjoyed a slight mist that came through the screens on the open windows and onto my face. As I lay there listening, I was aware of God's holy presence. Here I lay, absolutely secure from the rain and wind, and I thanked him for the many times he has "tented" himself all around me, protecting me from the calamities of life, from the things that could harm me.

As I began to drift off, I remembered something God had told me to do while in Haiti, and I wondered how I would accomplish it when I had so little time there. Somehow, I thought. Tomorrow . . ..

I felt extremely safe and secure, sliding back into the comfort of sleep, grateful that once again God had used circumstances I could not imagine to teach me.

Foiled Plans

I carefully carried my little new laptop to Haiti so that I could report to all each day's activities, only to find when I got there that Pastor Maude had no Internet connection. I was disappointed. Now I'm going to have to resort to the old way--telling you bits and pieces of my days there in an "installment" plan. Here goes!

One of the things--small as it may sound--that I had prayed for was that somehow I would know whom I could trust when we got to the airport. There is always an absolute mob of men there, all reaching out for bags and almost demanding that they be be the one chosen to handle the bags. I was carrying a lot of money, and I had prayed for a face that I would know intuitively that I could trust. Well I got it!

The mob approached, and there in the midst was the police officer who had helped me before, smiling and reaching out to me. I was so sure I knew him, and then he said, "Patience, come." I almost cried! He got the bags, led us outside to find a car, where we found Emmanuel, the driver from the mission house, smiling and waiting for us to emerge! I just cannot tell you how overwhelmed I was at the fact that our great God even took care of such a small thing as a sense of security as we arrived.

The ride through Port au Prince was heartbreaking! Rubble in the streets right next to demolished homes and businesses, and tents set up in the midst of the rubble in any spot smooth enough to hold a tent. Water everywhere in the streets, standing from the night's rain, and people wandering aimlessly through the debris. It took at least an hour to just get out of town, and from there the ride to Petite Goave that should have taken about an hour and a half took considerably longer because on a couple of places we had to detour where the road was gone, or other places where we had to weave our way through broken places in the pavement. Emmanuel is a master at maneuvering, and we arrived safely at the mission house.

Unexpectedly, I burst into tears when I saw my friend Maude safe and sound. She had told me she was all right, but when I saw for myself, I was just more relieved that I had expected. After greetings, unloading our car, and a drink of water, we quickly discussed plans for worship the following day. She told me she'd like us to go with her to a little church "up in the mountains." My dear Maude is the absolute master of understatement, so I was immediately suspicious of the "up the mountain" statement. When she told me that Emmanuel was going to drive us, I warned John and Jann that they should be prepared. Emmanuel does not drive Maude unless she knows the road is awful.

We were going to a church that no one had visited since the earthquake, and Maude said that they would be in real need of food. Quickly we went to a market and bought $500 worth of beans, rice and oil--enough to give generously to the approximately 50 families she expected to attend.

At about 7:00 on Sunday morning, with the car completely filled in the back, we began our journey. In my 78 years I cannot remember being on such a trip! Jann kept saying, "Oh, my! We are going to die!" I responded with, "If my children could see where I am they would scream!" On many of the ridges, the road was just barely as wide as the car. The tiniest mishap on either side would have sent us down a barren mountain with nothing to stop our descent. Each time we said, "Oh, Emmanuel" I remembered the meaning of his name, and our cries became almost a prayer. God was indeed with us all the way!

After about two hours we arrived, to be greeted by a lovely little congregation, in a pathetic church with holes in the tin roof. All of them were praising God for our coming, and that before they knew that we had brought food! When they asked me to speak, I greeted them in the name of the Lord and our churches here in Citrus County. Then I told them that we had brought food and the money to put a new roof on their church so they could worship even if it rains. Their response was so genuine, and I felt extremely grateful for those who had made this possible.

The service over, we poured the rice into large bags that Pastor Maude had brought, the beans into other bags, and put a bottle of oil in the top of each rice bag. Then Pastor Maude invited them to come and take a bag of each. They hugged us, kissed us on the cheeks as is their custom, and left with tears and laughter at their wonderful gifts. One little old lady (she even looked older than I) got down on her knees and picked up every grain of rice that had fallen to the floor in the measuring process, carefully putting the handful of grain into her bag. What a sight!

To our amazement, the pastor's wife--who knew Maude was bringing three guests but did not know that those guests were Americans or that we would bring anything with us--brought us dinner at the end of our food distribution. She had killed a priceless chicken, cooked some rice and beans, and even had a plantain for dessert. They are certainly a giving people, and I know this lunch cost them money they could ill afford. We ate lightly so they could have some left, bade them farewell, and began the hair raising, white knuckled journey down the mountain--this time in a light rain. A happy, painful, frightening, rewarding, exhausting, memorable day.

Home at the mission house, we had to prepare for the night. But that's a story for tomorrow.

Good night and God bless you. Don't forget to thank God for your plenty tonight, and as you do, remember the people on the mountain at Guimney Methodist Church.

We're Off!

It's just wonderful to see God's hand in things!

John, Jann, and I were called this a.m. at 6:30, but no need. We were all awake and ready to begin our exciting day. About an hour later we arrived at Tampa airport to an empty bay. With no wait, we walked right through both the check in and security. Here we sit, waiting for boarding for our on-time flight, and my heart begins to beat a little faster as I hear Creole spoken all around me!

Once again, the smooth beginning assures me of God's hand on our venture.

The Petros are excited because they have not been to Haiti before and the unknown of our adventure lies ahead. I am getting excited because I'll soon see some people I love and have been concerned about and praying for for months.

Keep us in your prayers as the day goes on!

Bonye bon tout ton e tout ton Bonye bon!

Let's Catch Up on Haiti's News

I have had so little news about what is going on in Haiti, and that's the main reason I haven't added anything to the blog in a month. I was so sure when I wrote last that the container was on the way that I'd soon be able to tell you it had arrived. Wrong!

The shipment moved as expected to Port au Prince, and as it neared port, we were pleased to have a highly qualified Haitian volunteer to go to PAP to meet it. That was a month ago, and from the day he arrived he met with absolutely no cooperation from the Haitian Methodist Church! A man on the President's Council was supposed to write a letter releasing the container's contents as humanitarian aide, but he continued to say that he was busy and could not get the letter to the authorities. The result? Our man-on-the-ground is still there and the container has not moved an inch! Meanwhile, people who need the food have not received it. People who need the tents are sleeping outside in the rain. And those of us who raised the one money to buy these supplies and ship them are frustrated.

I'm in Miami as I write, leaving in the morning for PAP, and among other things I hope to speak to the President's representative to see if we cannot get this shipment moved.

My youngest daughter, Patience, went to PAP in March with a medical team in March. I was not surprised that the Haitians won her heart. She was devastated by what she saw, but she was also amazed at the great strength of the people, at their hope and faith, and at their determination to recover from their tragic circumstances. I don't remember seeing Patience so overwhelmed. She has been working in missions for many years, has gone to South America, Africa, Malta, gulf states' hurricane communities. But when she came home this time, she was very emotionally tender!

That brings me to now. I have longed to go back, ever since the earthquake. But I finally determined that it was to satisfy my own needs, that I would probably just be in the way. In recent weeks, however, I began to sense a need to go, and the Lord began to reinforce my desire by little--and sometimes huge--moments of encouragement.

I have talked to my best and most reliable Haitian contact, Pastor Maude Hyppolite, and found that there is food there now and that she could purchase it if she had money. I have some money that our church has raised, and I quickly realized that I can help her by taking the money to her. So I'm on my way now with help. (Transferring money is very difficult and often impossible to ensure that it gets to the right hands.) And God has been encouraging me to believe it is time to go.

A lovely small thing happened this week. Pastor Maude told me that she is going out into the country to take communion to people who can't get to a church. She has no nice way to take these holy elements to the people. She asked if I might find "one of those little cases that hold a communion set." I couldn't find anyone who had one they'd give me, so I called Cokesbury to look for one. They had only one, a very expensive one, but I decided the elements for the Lord's Supper should be appropriately delivered to these hurting Haitians. I bought it. That very day I went home to find a note on my front door, from a woman I met rather casually last week. We had barely talked about Haiti, but she wrote, "Use this check for something needed in Haiti." You guessed it! It was exactly what I needed to pay for the communion set. I cried when I saw the check.

This morning I woke early, lay in the bed and prayed about the day's journey. In the middle of the my prayers, I sensed the Lord's prompting to be still and listen. So I quit talking and listened. The Lord began to encourage me to give a particular sum of money to two specific people. I didn't exactly argue with the Lord, but I did remind him that I didn't have the money, and I wasn't sure how I could do that. Before leaving for Miami, I had to run by my office for something totally unrelated to my prayer. There in my mailbox was a note and a check for exactly the amount of money that the Lord talked to me about this morning, I sat at my desk and wept! I am so ashamed that I am surprised when God does these wonderful things. The Haitians have taught me, "Bondye bon tout ton e tout ton bondye bon." (God is good every day; every day God is good.) They are so right! I have a lot to learn about our wonderful God and the fact that he wants to have an interactive relationship with us.

I've been a little apprehensive about going to PAP without my trusted friend, Montreuil Milord. He has traveled with me every time I have gone, and I feel extremely secure when he is by my side. This time, I am on my own, and though I am not frightened, I know I must make all the decisions on my own. I asked several people to pray that I could be wise in whom I trust to take care of us at the airport. Without knowing my apprehensions, Pastors Maude and Montreiul have taken care of the situation! Maude is sending her personal driver,Immanuel, to pick us up, and Montreuil has called his Police Chief friend who will meet us and take us to Immanuel. Once again, I asked God to lead me to someone I could trust, and these two friends do more than I could ever have asked to ensure our safety.

My new friends John and Jann Petro are traveling with me. I bought myself a little laptop, and I'll post as we go along for the next few days. Maybe with some help, I can even add a picture or two.

Thank you for your continued prayers. Don't stop! Besides the fact that I need your prayers, you get to talk to and listen to the only true God about some very important things.