Our African Grandmother

Last week Wes and I went to the village of Mujika to visit our African Grandmother. She is 92 years old, but full of life and love. Elia accepted Christ as her Savior in our early years in Zambia, about 10 years ago. We fell in love with her, and she adopted us as her grandchildren. Although she has children, they are far away and do not take good care of her, so we have tried to watch over her as much as possible.


We called ahead to the pastor of the Mujika Baptist Church and asked him to meet us at her village. We had some things to discuss with him, and wanted to visit her as well.


As we came into the village, Elia began dancing with excitement. Although her dances are becoming slower these days, she never fails to greet us in this way. Elia was dressed up in her best shirt and wrap around skirt (chitenge) with a nice clean head scarf. She looked smart, as they say in Zambia!


As usual, Elia wanted to know where we had been. "I could have died and you would never have known," are the words we usually hear from her when we visit. She was right; it had been awhile since our last visit, due to a busy schedule and heavy rains. We apologized and tired to explain that we had tried to visit two other times in March, but both times the rains were too heavy and the road too muddy. She was very forgiving.

We sat down in front of her small home, on small stools that she brought us, and had a very nice visit. We talked about her maize crop that is about ready to harvest. At 92 Elia still does most of her own planting, weeding, and harvesting. We talked about her health, and she complained that she coughs a lot at night. She was hoping we had brought her some cough medicine. We asked her if she was still fishing in the nearby river, and she said that she was, although not as much. We talked about her age, and how God had given her many years so that she could continue to tell people about His love.


We asked her if we could take a photo together, knowing that each time we visit could be the last time we see her. Whenever we take her picture, we tell her to smile. Instead of smiling, she laughs. It is so cute!


As we began to take photos, the children from the villages gathered round. She invited them to join her. I imagine she is grandmother to many village children.

As we were about to leave, a thought came to my mind--I would love to know more of her story. I would love to write a book about Elia's life. So, I asked her if she would share with me if I would come to the village and spend some time with her. She agreed to do so.


I'm making plans to spend a few days in her village with Elia and a young lady, Elizabeth, who is our African daughter. We haven't set the exact date yet, but hope to do it soon. It is going to be a real adventure as she has no toilet or bathing facility, but Wes says he can try to rig something up for us to use.

I'm excited, but nervous because Elia is so full of energy, that although she is 40 years older than me, I'm just not sure I will have the energy to keep up her!

Love Isn't Love Till You Give it Away

Yesterday at church I wondered why I was there. I was not able to listen to a thing, and I wanted to pull my hair out.  Let me explain.

When we arrived at church (which meets in a school room), I noticed the desks had been turned around.  This was good because now the outside door would be at the back. Wes and I usually sit at the first desk near the door, and we are constantly distracted by the movement of children going in and out during the service. Zambian children are adorable, but they are not always taught to sit and be quiet in church.  It is not uncommon for them to run down the aisles, go to the front and stand with whoever is singing a special, bounce balls, throw paper airplanes, and whatever else they can find to do that is distracting. Most of the adults just let it all happen, although we can tell they too are distracted, but the Zambian philosophy of child rearing is, "Let kids be kids."

When I saw that the desks (made for two adults) were turned around, I decided to sit in my usual spot by the door. We usually have three or four of the noisiest little children wanting to sit with us, so I figured that since our seat was now at the back, perhaps others would not be so distracted by these little ones. Wes chose to sit up front since he was speaking.

First Machila, Jullien and Choopa arrived.  They are all five or under.  They all wanted to sit with me, but finally just Machila and Choopa sat down.  I gave them each a piece of paper and a pen to write with and they were happy. 

Church started and things were going fairly well, until "she" arrived.  I didn't realize that "she" was there until I felt someone pulling on my arm, "Laurie, I want to write." There was really no room on the bench and I was very hot, so I gave her a piece of paper and a pen and asked her to go and sit at a desk opposite of us. The look on her face told me that this was not going to work, so I squeezed her in as well.  By the way, "she" has a name--Purity. She is the cutest, but most stubborn little girl I have ever met.  She makes me laugh and scream at the same time.

Jullien joined us and now I had four little ones and no idea what was happening in the church service. Suddenly Machila and Purity got up and went outside. I followed them to see what mischief they might be up to.  They said they wanted to get a drink at the water pump. I told them to return quickly.

When the time came for the children to go to their class, I saw the two girls running back from the pump.  They came into the church dripping wet.  I think they had more than just a drink of water. I told them that the children had gone to their class; I decided I'd better escort them.  Machila had a fit, and Purity followed her example.  HELP! I went to retrieve Machila's mother who came and took over with her daughter. I gave Purity a little pat on the bum and told her to stop throwing a fit. She wrapped her arms around my neck and melted my heart.

I entered the children's class with Purity hoping she would sit and listen, but it was not going to happen. I saw that the teacher, who was new, was not doing well with the little ones.  They were climbing on desks, yelling and screaming, and she was trying to tell a story.  I took the three littlest ones, Purity, Choopa and Jullien and went on a discovery walk. We talked about who had made the trees, the rocks, and anything else we could find. I told them the story of Zacchaeus and we had a good time.

Time passed and I thought things might be winding up, so we headed back to the church. I decided, now that they were calm, that I would take them back to class.  I dropped them off and went back into the church. Wes was concluding his sermon, and challenging the people to put into practice what they had learned. I don't know if anyone could even concentrate because next door the children were screaming. I got up and went next door to see what was happening. The teacher had pretty much given up and was letting the children run wild. I told them all to sit down and we had a talk about why we were in church. I stayed with them the rest of the time and we played follow the leader acting quietly like animals.

I was glad to hear the final singing from the adults, and we made our way to the reception line. When we arrived home, I told Wes I felt like I'd been through the washer. While I was preparing lunch, a song came to my mind that the women had sung a few weeks earlier. I began singing, "Love isn't love till you give it away."  It was then I realized that all these little ones needed was love, and that giving it away can sometimes be exhausting!

A Golden Opportunity

We went to Livingstone about four hours from our home to be part of an induction service.  What is an induction service?  We were wondering the same thing when we were asked to be a part. We learned that it is a special service where a church welcomes their new pastor and introduces him to the community. It is a time when the pastor is challenged by others to fulfill his calling.

Wes had been asked to share a brief welcome and challenge to Pastor Golden Kyungupengu on behalf of the Baptist Mission. He had mixed feelings about being a part of this service.  On one hand, he was excited to welcome Pastor Golden, a young man we had met when he was a youth, who definitely is called by God.  In fact, he is a real answer to pray for the southern province of Zambia where we minister. But, on the other hand, Wes doesn't like to speak to large crowds, and hates to dress up in formal attire--why do you think he loves the bush!

Pastor Golden gave us instructions on Friday that we were supposed to arrive on Saturday morning by 8:30 a.m. to greet the minister who was scheduled to arrive at 9:00.  He was not talking about a guest pastor, but a government official who would be the guest of honor for this event. A minister is equivalent to an American senator.

We arrived on time and were ushered in to a small room with other pastors who also had a part in the program.  The minister did not arrive on time. This is not unusual here in Zambia.  Government officials are expected to make people wait.  Just before 10:00 we were told that the minister was on his way and we should form reception line outside. He arrived soon after with his aide, and after greeting him, we went back into the small room where the pastors chatted with him briefly.

Finally, we made our way to the stage behind the minister and took our seats.  We would sit here for the next three hours in temperatures that must have reached 110 degrees. I looked over at Wes who was thoroughly miserable in his suit and tie and whispered, "Try not to look so miserable." I felt sorry for him.

The service began with the Zambian national anthem, and I noticed we were being watched as we tried to remember the words.  I'm sure those watching us could tell that we were faking some of the words (but not all).

There were some really good choirs, and then the speeches began.  Each speaker greeted the minister by name and another government offical who was somewhere in the audience, as well as pastors, etc. etc. I could tell that Wes was getting nervous wondering if he would be the only one to break protocol if he did not greet everyone by name and give their "official" title.

Thankfully, not long before Wes was to speak, the minister called the master of ceremonies over and asked him to please tell the speakers that they could dispense with the protocol that normally is used for greeting.  I saw relief wash over Wes' face. 

When Wes got up to speak, I said a little prayer for him.  He welcomed Pastor Golden and his wife to the southern province, and was presenting a short challenge to him, when suddenly there was a loud crash. Two men had fallen from their chairs in the front row, when one chair broke and fell into the other. Poor Wes, no one listened much after that, but he retained his composure--I was proud of him!

The service finally ended and Wes was able to take off his coat and tie and breathe a sigh of relief. After presenting our gift to the pastor and his wife, we said good-bye and headed for home. The first 40 kilometers was rough, as the road is being repaired, and we had to take a detour on a dirt road for a good distance.  The dust was so thick at times that we literally could not see what was in front of us.  Even Wes admitted it was a very dangerous situation. We thank the Lord that He led us and that we made it home safely. 

Although the day was hot, and we were exhausted, it was another "golden opportunity" to be involved in Zambian culture and share our lives with the people.

A Sad Week

It has truly been a week of sadness. On Tuesday we went to the funeral in our village, and on Wednesday we received sad news from home. We got a call from my father telling us that my Uncle Menno had passed away. I knew he had been sick, but I really wasn't expecting this news on this day. Why? Because last week we had learned that another uncle had been diagnosed with leukemia and didn't have long to live.

While we were still processing my Uncle Menno's death, the phone rang again. I asked Wes to get it, because I knew in my heart that my Uncle Don had also passed away.

I'm still in shock as I think about the fact that in one day, two of my uncles went to be with the Lord. The good news is that they both had their house in order. If you haven't read my previous post, you need to do so. The sad thing is that they will be missed by so many.

I think of my Aunt Vi who lost both her husband Don and her brother Menno in one day. I can't even imagine her sadness. She's my very special aunt who prays for us all the time, makes us homemade jam to bring back to Zambia, and always makes sure we come for dinner when we are home. Now it is our turn to pray for her.

Although we are so far removed from our families, I remember both of my uncles with fondness. My Uncle Menno owned a small country grocery store when we were kids. He spoiled us with goodies from the store every time we came to visit. He was a big man, with a big heart. My Uncle Don was a quiet and gentle man. I never heard him raise his voice or say an unkind word about anyone. I doubt if anyone could ever say that about me.

Wes and I are reading a book together called, "A Life God Rewards" by Bruce Wilkinson. Have you ever thought about the fact that this life is like a little dot on a page, and eternity is a line that goes on and on forever? Wilkinson says, "Jesus' teaching shows us that what happens inside the dot determines everything that happens on the line." Most of our life happens after our physical death. This is a sobering thought for us who are still living.

Well, two great men are gone, two families are grieving, but in heaven, two men are rejoicing with their Savior and just beginning their life on the line.