Caution: May Contain Nuts

Several people have asked me what we’re up to these days, how things are going, and what projects are going on out here. Here is a (very) rough sketch of some of our projects, along with specific prayer requests.

Thank you so much for keeping us in your prayers!!

Current/ongoing projects:

* Timothy is putting together a teacher training manual. Our goal is to provide Christian African teachers with a practical guide and manual to disciple their students to Christ through the medium of everyday education. We figure if the kids are going to school EVERYDAY, what better place to reach them with the Gospel? Unfortunately, the Zambian teachers have very little former teacher training, let alone discipleship training. This project will better equip them to teach their students academics, basing all instruction on the Word of God.

prayer requests: wisdom as Timothy gathers and compiles material, opportunities to “try it out”

needs: funds for printing/distributing once it’s finished

* Leadership training workshops in the field. We do “seminars” to better equip pastors, church leaders, evangelists, teachers, etc to spread the Gospel in their communities and disciple their churches. We also teach them the Biblical standards of life and Christianity. Our goal is to help them be more effective for Christ and tear down the strongholds of syncretism (Christianity combined with animism, the local, witch doctor based religion).

prayer requests: wisdom when teaching others, opportunities, open hearts, protection in the field

needs: funds for travel, volunteers to help with the teaching

* Community involvement. This is a new one for us, as we’ve never had a permanent residence with the local people. (We always travelled up from Cape Town, making many stops along the way, but ending up back in Cape Town). We have become members of a local church, attend a Bible Study, and are getting some projects going within the local community for training pastors.

Prayer requests: wisdom when interacting with people who live alongside us, God’s grace in helping us be a reflection of His Son, opportunities to show a picture of Christian Community

Needs: prayer

Praises:

*Timothy recovered from malaria

*Safe arrival of the shipping container, including the materials inside (details to come in March newsletter)

*Frederick’s continued good health (sick infants are bad news out here)

*Lots of rain (means lots of vegetables in a few months)

Other prayer requests:

*family health in malaria season

*God’s hand on the vehicle, currently in for repairs (the engine overhaul done in Cape Town had a fault, so the Turbo had to be shipped back. It could take some weeks to repair. In the meantime we are going with the two-wheel option for ministry, etc)

*God’s continued grace in protecting and providing for us.

If you have any specific questions, please email me! (Or just drop a line to say, “hi”… we miss all of you and love to hear what you’re up to!)

He did it.

He got to the even dozen.

I think he can stop now.

Yup, that’s right. Timothy has malaria. Again. The poor guy is a mosquito magnet.

Timothy has the distinction of having suffered this nasty, parasitic disease not once, but twelve times. So many times, actually, that it has become less interesting to me than the common cold. After all, you’re just stuck with the cold until it’s gone. You can treat malaria with a few pills… that is, if you catch it on time. And if you have the pills. And if you can keep them down. Did you know that your average medicine cabinet/ first aid kit doesn’t contain malaria pills? I can’t imagine living without them. Or, I should say, I can’t imagine Timothy living without them!!!

So when he came home on Monday, pale, clammy, and achy, croaking out that he might have malaria, I calmly tucked him into bed, gave him a glass of water, and waited for fever spikes (the sign that you have malaria, not the flu). By 9pm he was still holding in at exhaustion and lethargy, so I figured it was the flu after all. However, when I got up in the morning to find that he’d slept the whole night on Monica’s floor because he was too dizzy to make it back to bed… and when he had a few fever spikes… and a few other unpleasant symptoms… we called it official. Malaria times twelve. I pulled out the Coartum, filled his tummy with bacon, and continued with my day (the anti malarial works better in conjunction with fatty foods; poor Timothy gets as much bacon as he wants, but he’s too sick to enjoy it!)

Later I mentioned to a few friends that he wouldn’t be around as he was dealing with the migraines, fever, etc. To me, this is all completely normal malaria-like behavior, overcome after a few days of medication and rest. To other (normal) people, this is not good news. This is take-him-to-the-hospital news. This is will-he-make-it-? news. This is pull-down-the-shades-and- close-up-shop news. Apparently I have become a bit cavalier about malaria. Maybe it’s because once a person has had malaria eleven times, he is sharp enough to take the medication before he needs hospitalization, an iv bag, and a blood transfusion. I think this takes a bit more deductive reasoning than your average fever/migraine-ridden individual is capable of accomplishing, but Timothy is up to the task. A gift I very much appreciate, as I like to live with the confidence that my husband will make it through this disease again and again. After twelve times, I’m not fooling myself into believing that he has actually charmed the mozzy beast.

Actually, it’s not easy to diagnose malaria before hospitalization becomes necessary. This is because, in the early stages of the disease, it can only be detected by a blood test during a fever spike… and even then it sometimes doesn’t show up. By the time the parasite count is high enough to register as positive on the tests (especially the field tests, which is what most hospitals out here use), the suffering individual is already beyond keeping down any pills and has a few other symptoms contributing to dehydration and extreme fatigue. At this point, a good hospital is your only hope. I’m glad that Timothy has become so proficient at self-diagnosing.

Having two small children in the house, we have layered on as much anti-mosquito protection as we reasonably can. We have bug zappers, “Doom” plug-ins, we’ve sprayed all the openings to the house, sleep under mosquito nets, and go to bed early. That being said, sometimes the little buggers get through. And it only takes one.

Please pray for our babies. I’m not so worried about Timothy and myself. If we get malaria, it’s painful, it’s ugly, but it IS treatable. If Monica or Frederick get it, first we have to figure out that they have it (“Frederick, where does it hurt?” still isn’t very effective), then we have to get them treatment before the dehydration, vomiting, and diarrhea become… too much.

Please, please remember my babies when you pray for yours. We are doing what we can to protect them, we trust in God’s grace and provision for the rest.

We praise God that He has again enabled Timothy to realize the problem before it became life threatening. We praise Him that Timothy had the fore-thought to have Coartum on hand. We praise God for providing the means to protect our family, as much as possible, from malaria. His faithfulness alone keeps us, body and soul, from day to day.

God bless Coartum.

Working in Africa, we have many causes for both joy and sorrow. Some days bring the celebration of salvation and life, while others expose the fetid ugliness of a land still far from seeking the Lord and the covenant curses this brings on the African people.

Today we stood with our friends, Bwalia and Odessa, as they buried their baby. They lost their sixteen-month old son, Fortune, in what amounts to unknown causes. While the official report says “anemia and diarrhea”, even the doctor admits that he is unsure what actually killed little Fortune (and the nurse in charge of the morgue said, “Sir, he’s dead. Just deal with it; go bury him.”) Because this was a baby from a relatively poor, African family, few tests were done to ascertain the cause of illness… let alone death. There are few medical facilities here in Kabwe, and those that are available are of poor quality. The only lab in town tests only for malaria and std’s. The next closest lab/medical facility is over two hours away- and there are no ambulances in rural Zambia. Assuming that Fortune’s symptoms, diarrhea and vomiting, were caused by teething (the malaria test was negative), the doctor gave him an injection to stop the diarrhea and sent him home. He wasn’t tested for water-borne parasites. He wasn’t prescribed iron supplements for the supposed anemia. He was sent home “teething”. Within thirty-six hours, Fortune was dead.

It has been a very sobering day, as we have considered the many blessings that we enjoy in the west. Good medical care, competent physicians, quality food products, clean water, sewage disposal, and sanitary living arrangements are all easily taken for granted. We benefit from blessings that have been upon our land and culture after generations of God-fearing parents and leaders established a Christian legacy. Africa does not enjoy such a heritage. Africa is still enslaved by superstition, disease, and fear.

Because hospitals are places that people too often go to die rather than live, they frequently double as a mortuary (there were, in fact, many funerals taking place there today). Essentially, the body is transferred to the back where it stays until the family can pay the fees to have their loved one buried. This morning there was some delay in the release of Fortune’s body (due to “the Africa Factor”), so we
waited outside the small, brick facility in Kabwe with Bwalia, Odessa, and their family. As I stood there, holding Frederick, I was confronted by a man who was distraught that I was so near death with my baby. He kept urging me to leave, to at least “stand outside so the mwana [baby] won’t breathe the smell [spirit/death]”. It is a prevalent belief here that if an infant or small child is too near a dead person, that child will breathe in the death and bad spirits, bringing about his own sad and early end. Death is not, by the common African, attributed to disease, life-style, germs, parasites, or other related issues… it is blamed on spirits, jinxes, bad luck, etc.

As Fortune’s body was lowered into the small hole in the rustic, roadside graveyard, I couldn’t help but notice that there were several more holes dug alongside, each waiting to receive its own eternal occupant. Those graves will be filled today, as the other mounds in that row were created within the last few days. Row upon row, another graveyard quickly filling because of ignorance, fear, and sin. I learned that the small town of Kabwe has nine graveyards. Nine graveyards. There aren’t enough people here to warrant two grocery stores, but there are enough deaths to require nine graveyards.

Please pray with us as we bring God’s Law and love to Kabwe. Please pray for a people enslaved by fear and burdened with senseless death. Pray for us as we minister to their needs here in Kabwe.

Pray for a people who need nine graveyards and only one grocery store.

Dear Cockroach Community,

I would greatly appreciate it if you would confine your activities and residence to the outdoors. I am aware that, by moving to an undeveloped area, I have technically encroached (haha, enc-roached) on your domain, but I would like to point out that you have plenty of space outside. In fact, several of the neighbors appear to be inviting your presence with their various household practices.

I have worked really hard to keep abandoned toddler snacks, infant spew, bread crumbs, ketchup smears, and other tasty crumbles out of temptation’s way. However, I’ve noticed that you continue to express interest in widening your territory into mine. I am kindly requesting that you find other accommodation immediately.

I would also like to inform you that your intrepid, three-inch ambassador will be unable to return to your community. If you send additional emissaries, please be aware that their fate will be the same.

Regards,
Ashley

PS. If you wish to prevent further reductions in your numbers, please forward this notice to your relatives of all shapes and varieties.

PSs. I would like to point out that leaping onto a chair and howling for the man of the house is, actually, a dignified reception for any emissaries sent into our home.

7.0 lbs, 20cm, and very healthy

 

 

Now that Frederick, quickly waxing fat with his infinite appetite, has reached his 12^th day (and I am getting more than a few stolen hours of sleep on a good night), I can share our story with you.

 

It begins, as my stories so often do, with Timothy being smarter than me.  He had been planning to go to Johannesburg, about a 3 hour drive from Polokwane, from Friday, December 26^th – Thursday, January 31^st, to visit some friends and pick Mary Jo up at the airport (31^st).  As I started gathering his things on Thursday, he grew really agitated and said he really didn’t think he should go.  I told him, “Of course you should.  This baby isn’t coming for two more weeks.  Go see your friends while you can.”  I told him this about a dozen more times over the following 24 hours.  Eventually he said that he really didn’t feel like he should leave; he was staying through the weekend, just in case.  Well, Saturday and Sunday passed without any sign of Baby, so the new plan was for him to leave on Monday.

 

 

I woke up early Monday morning with what I assumed was false labor (hey, it felt really different than it had with Monica!)  I didn’t feel like getting up and walking, so I rolled over and went back to sleep.  I woke up every half hour or so with more “false labor” and rolled back into sleep each time.  You would think that I would clue in eventually….  Nope.

 

 

I didn’t want to tell Tim that I was having contractions until I was sure it was labor.  However, by 830, they still hadn’t gone away and had gotten down to about 10 minutes apart.  I thought I better mention it… just in case… but I told him I was sure it was false labor (I clearly don’t get smarter with time.  Can I blame that on the hormones?)  He wasn’t concerned.  The dear man took my word for it.

 

 

We had a few errands to run in town for our hosts, starting with the big wholesale grocery market.  I sat Monica in a grocery cart and browsed while Timothy started working on the shopping list.  At some point, he found me in the freezer section, panting over the handle bar of the cart, desperately trying to hang on to lucidity.  He then realized that the wife was not thinking very clearly and informed me that we were going to forget the other errands and go back to the guesthouse immediately, as I was clearly in labor. 

 

 

I hadn’t been timing any of the contractions, so Timothy did that when we got back to the car.  His words at the second one: “ALREADY???  They’re less than five minutes apart!!!  We’re going home.”  (Although, we did have to stop on the way for biltong, the South African version of beef jerky, just in case he needed hospital snacks.)  It was now about 10am.

 

When we got back to the guesthouse, Timothy called the lady we had lined up for babysitting… only to find that she was in another city, 4 hours away, and wouldn’t be back for several days.  OK…. what now… we don’t know anyone in Polokwane!!!  Fortunately, she called back a few minutes later and told Timothy that Monica could go to her sister’s daycare just down the road (Monica had a blast there and didn’t appear to miss us at all.)

 

 

Timothy then sped out the gate with Monica while I continued to pace out our room.  I don’t remember a whole lot about that time, or even how long he was gone… but I do remember pounding the couch with my fists, gritting my teeth, and chanting, “I don’t need an epidural; I DON’T NEED AN EPIDURAL.”  While thinking in the background, “If this is how much early labor hurts, what am I going to do six hours from now???”  Little did I know…

 

Once he got back, we gathered our bags and walked to the hospital.  It’s about a quarter mile (or about four contractions) away from the guesthouse.  By this time, even I had figured out that I was in real labor.

 

 

As we arrived at the hospital, we presented our “pre booking” registration that we had made in October, guaranteeing a room.  Well… if the beds are full… the beds are full.  That’s right, a tale as old as, well, the Bible: there’s no room in the inn.  They were ready to turn us out, but Timothy wouldn’t move until they helped us make a plan B.  So, they sent us to the emergency ward (where all the people with pink eye and axes in their head go), but the one empty bed was taken by the time we got there.  Reaching a point of desperation, Timothy asked them to call our doctor and see what she wanted us to do.  She asked us to come to her office (just across the street), where she could see how far along I was.  A few hundred yards and half a dozen contractions later, she checked me out and found, to her dismay, that I was NOT a few centimeters dilated as expected… but close to 9cm and finishing quickly.  Even the doctor was scared now that the baby would be delivered on her tile floor.  (I was relieved to discover that my couch pounding had not been in vain, and was somewhat proud of myself for transitioning on my own.)

 

After making a few phone calls, she found an “acute care” clinic (they handle cancer patients, vision surgery patients, etc) that had space for me.  Ironically, this care center was next door to the guesthouse that we are staying in.  I’m not even kidding.  That night, through my window, I could hear Monica and Tim having dinner together on the lawn.

 

We arrived at Unicare, huffing and puffing (well, I was anyway, and I don’t really remember what anyone else was doing).  They quickly took me to a room, and we all got ready to have a baby.  Once I was off my feet and actually thinking about what was going on, labor, of course, slowed down.  By which I mean that Frederick Douglas made his arrival about two hours after we walked through the door.

 

 

 

From the time we arrived at the clinic, we experienced the difference between American and South African medical conditions and practices.  Allowing for the fact that this was an acute care facility, not a hospital and certainly not a labor/delivery facility, the staff were great and very helpful.  I say “helpful” because Timothy did everything.  He is definitely up for the Husband of the Year award!  At the end, he looked as exhausted and pale as I was.  (He didn’t even have time to eat his biltong!)  The poor doctor on duty was openly scared that my OB wouldn’t make it on time and that she would have to deliver the baby herself.  The only RN on duty was a man and was unceremoniously kicked out by the female staff (CNAs).  But I had Tim, my time was up, and I really didn’t care who else was or was not present, as long as Baby came out post haste!  My only real negative memory (aside from the earth shaking pain of pushing) was the nurse who, returning from her smoke break, kept shouting into my face “Breathe!  Breathe!  You must breathe!!”  To which my mind kindly responded, “I AM breathing, as much as I can with a reeking ashtray puffing in my face!!!!!!!!!” Pushing doesn’t do much for a woman’s patience.  And no offense to the nurse, who spent a great deal of her time rubbing my back between contractions. 

 

 

By the time Baby was ready to make his arrival, I was so exhausted, I could barely move.  Dr Henn, my OB (who did arrive on time, much to the relief of the staff doctor) was beginning to worry that she might have to use the suction machine to get Frederick out.  However, with a last grasp for energy from me and a few creative maneuvers on Timothy’s part, we managed to squeeze Frederick safely into the world.

 

 

 

I was exhausted.  But I was DONE.  And Frederick Douglas, as we then chose his name to be, was (and is) absolutely beautiful.

 

 

The post partum care was also… different.  The nurses apologized that the baby had to stay with me, since they didn’t have a nursery (I’m thinking, uh, YEAH, he’s staying with me!!)  The baby cot was a metal frame on casters with what looked like a food service bucket as a bassinet.  They had enough post partum mommy supplies to last me about an hour and no infant supplies whatsoever (aside from the umbilical clip, of which they had proudly informed us upon arrival.)  They never checked Frederick’s or my vitals during our stay.  My next day check up amounted to: “You look well, no?”  However, the staff was some of the friendliest I have ever met, and they doted on both of us.  We also saved about $400 by delivering there instead of at the hospital (happy Daddy).

 

Because they didn’t have any infant facilities, we had to take Frederick to the hospital the next day for his immunizations.  At birth they give polio drops and a TB vaccine.  The nurse who was administering these seemed really unsure of herself when it came to the TB stick.  She finally went for it (on his right arm) and as she plunged the syringe, vaccine sprayed out everywhere- gah.  She said she would need to do it again, so I said, “Ok, should I bring him back next week?”  And she said, “No, no, I will do it now,” grabbed another syringe and carried on.   !!!!!!!!!!!!  My American sensibilities were rebelling mightily at this point and I, trying in vain to remain calm, asked if that wasn’t overdosing him.  She coolly answered that no, about ½ of the first one went in and, “See?” she had only given about ½ of this one.   !!!!!!!!  What a shock.  We’re not in America anymore, Ashley, if you hadn’t yet noticed!  It was a nerve racking 48 hours for us, but he is fine and we praise God that he is in control of even the smallest details in life.  (Not that a TB infection is a small detail!)

 

Throughout our entire birth experience, we were could see the Lord’s hand and His grace.  You know how you sometimes have to search for what God is doing, and sometimes it is right there for you to see?  This was the latter.  Timothy had stayed with me (he probably wouldn’t have made it in time from Jo’burg, as I wouldn’t have called him until I was sure I was in labor), all the walking made labor go faster, staying at Unicare was much less costly and, because a birth was a novelty, we got all the attention and help we could hope for, Frederick’s delivery was uncomplicated, he is healthy, and Monica got to visit a lot, as we were right next door (not to mention that the hospital doesn’t allow children to visit at all!)  In addition to all of this, Unicare couldn’t file Frederick’s birth certificate, so they sent us to the hospital.  There we were told that they couldn’t file it either, as I wasn’t a citizen or resident.  Tim had to go stand in line at Home Affairs.  But, to our surprise, because he was at the regional office, they were able to issue the certificate directly… we didn’t have to wait a week!  This meant that we could immediately file for Frederick’s birth certificate and passport.  Praise God!!!

 

 

He is indeed good and has blessed us with a beautiful son, a straight arrow for my husband’s quiver, and a delight to all of us.

After 3 ½ days on the road, we arrived in Pietersburg on Thursday.  Our trip was, for the most part, blessedly uneventful.  Some of the roads in Zambia and Botswana were in bad shape.  Timothy drove slowly over the worst sections of potholes and washouts, endeavoring to deliver mommy and baby safely to South Africa… without actually delivering the baby himself!  Monica proved that she is adjusting well to the missionary lifestyle with her easy going manner and acceptance of [almost all] that we asked of her.  We were again grateful for the portable dvd player that was given to Monica by her grandparents.  At first I felt like we were copping out of our parental duty, neglecting this 100 hour opportunity to teach our daughter patience and self-entertainment.  However, after an hour of blissful silence in the middle of Botswana, I decided that every toddler who travels a lot should have one of those nifty little machines (although, Timothy does insist that he can now quote the entire Milo & Otis movie and the ABC disc has simply been banned from his presence).

 

 

We were able to see a lot of wildlife along the road.  At one point, we pulled over so Monica could watch the baboons play in the ditch.  We had to quickly move on, however, when she decided to hurl her bread out the window and tempt the beasties toward her with shouts of, “Come!  Come!  Snacks!”  The baboons would have come all right.  And taken her snacks.  And possibly her fingers too!

 

 

The journey was really pleasant.  We finished reading The Fellowship of the Ring and started The Two Towers (don’t worry, I didn’t let Timothy multi task his driving with reading).  We also discussed baby names at great length, but ended in the same place we started… nowhere.  Timothy has decided that he needs to see the little guy before he can make any final decisions.  Current names in the running are Frederick, Theodore, and Oliver. 

 

 

Now that we are installed in Pietersburg, I have been able to catch up on the admin side of ministry, not to mention putting everything together for tax time, and Timothy has been able to get some work done on his progressing “Teacher Training Manual for African Schools”.

 

I haven’t seen the doc yet, but baby seems to be wiggling around, so I think we’re doing well.  We would also like to take Monica to see a pediatrician soon in order to get a few tests done.  We are pretty sure that the strong antibiotic that was prescribed to her in Kabwe killed off whatever was causing her faints/seizes… but we want to make sure, as well as check that the little seizures didn’t harm anything inside her head.

 

Please continue to pray for us as we carry out our tasks here in South Africa and await the arrival of Keller Baby #2.

He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul.

 

I never fully appreciated this verse until this recent trouble (what a mild word) with my hip.  As the pain daily grew worse, Timothy finally dragged me to the bed and said, “Lie down and don’t get up.”  With all the work and projects to be done around our home right now, not the least of which being a busy toddler, stacks of moving boxes to unpack, and ministry supplies to sort, this was an extremely difficult thing to do.  But do you know, the Lord sent me to a godly man who knew when to MAKE me lie down… who has continued to make me lie down when I most need it… and my hip is doing much better!!! Praise God for rest, and for the loved ones in our lives who make sure that we get it!

 

Rest is a blessed and holy gift that we so often forget.  It is easy in any field, especially ministry, to get lost in the many needs of those we serve.  The Lord has been teaching me that there is also a “time to rest”.

 

 

As we have made the transition to a permanent, settled life in Africa we have experienced a variety of, hmmm, challenges.  From Monica’s scary illness to the challenges of life in Africa to my immobility issues to the regular hurdles of ministry, we have had a bumpy few months.  However, the Lord’s presence has been with us so clearly and so graciously.  There have been times in my life that I’ve felt Him to be far away… but not now.  With all the challenges at hand, I feel His presence and provision more than ever.  I’ve found that in our most desperate moments, we can find His waters the most refreshing, His grace sufficient to calm our anxieties and worries.

I shall not want.

 

We have been so incredibly blessed with the Lord’s provision for our family. The container arrived with surprisingly, miraculously little red tape to negotiate (nothing short of God’s hand when this happens in Africa!) The items inside were safe and unmolested (although we are now fighting off the African termites). We have a home that is more than I ever could have hoped for and household items to fill it with (thanks , friends!!) We have a wonderful supply of Bibles and discipleship materials that will be used to spread the Gospel of His law and grace to the people of Africa. We are healthy and happy, doing the work to which we were called in a land filled with the wonders of His Hand. I can think of little for which to ask; I am overwhelmed by the graciousness and generosity of His hand. He is a good and generous Father, a gracious and loving God.

 

Well, we have now been living in our new home in Kabwe for about a month.   It has been interesting and rewarding to adjust to a settled life in Africa (in the past we moved around every week or so, spending time in various villages and townships).  We have also experienced a variety of challenges and difficulties, demonstrating to us that we are probably right where we’re supposed to be!

 

 

Monica is doing much, MUCH better.  Thank you so much to everyone for your continued prayers.  The doctor here in Kabwe was never able to diagnose the cause of her fainting/seizing.  However, with the administration of the broad spectrum antibiotic, her episodes went away, her appetite returned (in full force), and she became the little trouble maker that a toddler is supposed to be.  We praise God for His mercy, as we were not sure what to do next if the medication didn’t work.  We will be returning to South Africa for the birth of Baby 2, at which point we will take Monica to a hospital for testing and scans.  We just want to make sure that the seizing was not caused by something that may resurface or that may have been related to some kind of parasite, still lurking within.  Until then, we are keeping a vigilant watch over her.  Our greatest concern with the attacks, and the primary reason we still watch over her so closely, was that she stopped breathing and was unable to revive herself.  Please continue to pray that the Lord has indeed healed her completely.

 

 

The rains have finally come to Kabwe, cooling the oppressive afternoon heat to a much more bearable temperature.  However, with the arrival of the rains come…. the bugs.  I don’t do bugs; end of story.  However, I have discovered, much to my own dismay, that Monica is very much into bugs.  There is nothing that grabs her attention like a fat, African ant scuttling across the porch (and the African ants are HUGE, I mean like US grasshopper sized).  Just the other day she came up to me and said, “Mommy!  See?  Fyyy!”  Cringing, I reached out my hand and thought, “Oh, gross.  She’s picked up a dead fly and now I have to take it and act happy.   Bleh!!!!!”  As her little hand turned over into mine, instead of seeing a dried up, old fly, a live, l-i-v-e spider crawled across my palm and up my arm.  Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!  I think I scrubbed my skin off before I got that creepy feeling off of my arm.  Monica wasn’t impressed that I squished her fine new friend either.  A few days later Monica came to me again, “Mommy, Mommy!  See?  See?  Bug-g.  Bug-g!!!”  Not to be fooled twice, I said, “Oh, good for you!!  Put it on the ground so Mommy can see it!”  This time she placed a medium sized (1.5” +-) Red Roman spider-ant on the ground- also alive!!!  Now, these guys pinch HARD.  They leave nasty bites that easily fester and become infected.  Let’s just say I’m beginning to fear that my child has an affinity for, dare I say it?, BUGS.  And we have brought her to the land of Insecta Gigantica.  AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! 

 

 

Timothy has been busy preparing everything for the Container’s arrival.  Because we are expecting so many books and materials, he has designed, cut, built, and painted quite a few book cases and storage shelves for these priceless treasures.  It is such a pleasure to see him at work in what has truly become his country (although that would apply more to the continent than Zambia specifically).  He at last has a place to call home in the land that he loves so deeply.  It is amazing  and wonderful to see him happily at work for the Lord here in Africa.

 

 

It looks like the Container can be opened!  In fact, Timothy has gone to Lusaka for a few days, intending to do just that.  We are keeping our fingers crossed as we wait to hear if it really is ready.  In Africa, you don’t just wait to count your chickens until they hatch.  You usually wait until they’ve grown up, laid a few eggs of their own, and survived the summer… then you count them.  So… pray with me that he’ll find the paperwork in order and the Container cleared for opening.  Once he can start sorting through the boxes we will be able to ascertain the condition everything has arrived in and decide how to put the materials to good use.

 

Please also keep me in your prayers as I have been experiencing a great deal of extreme lower back and leg pain due to a pinched nerve.  I hear this will go away as soon as the baby is born… 6 more weeks to go!

WE HAVE A VEHICLE!! 

 

We decided to purchase the Toyota Surf that we have been driving (the one with the brand new engine, turbo, and diesel pump) from Hannes & Christel.  The Lord’s hand has been clear and gracious indeed throughout the process of repairing and acquiring this truck.  It is exactly what we need both for family transport and ministry work.  It runs really well and is African road-worthy (as we’ve now experienced, driving it up from Cape Town).  Selling the Toyota has also enabled Hannes & Christel to purchase a much needed larger vehicle for their family and ministry.  We are simply in awe as we consider God’s handiwork in this process.  From the donation of the Toyota FJ and its sale in America to the provision of this vehicle (originally on loan for moving purposes), its repairs, and now its exceptional condition, His grace has been abundant.  Thank you to all who played a part of His work in helping us get this truck!!

 

Stats:

1996 Toyota Surf (hey, it has a new engine)

4WD

70,000 miles

Automatic

5 passenger

Roof rack, bull bar, tow package

Still needs:

long range tank

better roof rack (higher load weight)

winch

off road tires

snorkel

 

 

Look for our newsletter in a few weeks for more details and pictures!!