She stumbled through the crowd toward the truck. We hadn’t seen her yet. She was lost in the sea of people.<\/p>\n
People were everywhere! Sitting, standing, repeating the same Shwabo chorus. It rippled through the crowd, taking on its own identity. A quiet, heart-moaning song.<\/p>\n
We were standing for the service before the sea turned in our direction after the pick-up truck pulled up. We could tell the body was being transported to the truck with the oncoming wailing. Such brokenness. Death has such a sting.<\/p>\n
But then I caught a glimpse of her and I instantly had to wipe away tears. She buried her face in her shawl.\u00a0Our sister… our precious sister… was completely overcome by her grief. Oh how face to face changes the story…<\/p>\n
She wasn’t shrieking in the usual Mozambican fashion, but her body trembled and heaved as she was overcome in her goodbye. Such a contrast from Monday when\u00a0her stone eyes\u00a0hit the floor as she made the report. Her brother whom she had spent years helping to care for. Her precious brother who took her in when she became a widow at so young. Her precious brother whom her young daughter calls “Papa”.\u00a0He was so, so sick…<\/p>\n
It was a quiet walk to the cemetery behind the truck. The exhaust hot on our ankles. The African sun burning into the backs of our necks. As we approached the cemetery the songs began again. Lead by a church. Eerie words hung in the air speaking of burial being the end result. Hopelessness stained on faces in the crowd. Sung against the background of her sobs. Her family\u00a0stumbling through tears and gravestones until they reached their beloved’s resting place.<\/p>\n
We couldn’t hear all that was said from the man standing in front of the community’s sea as the graveside service commenced. Swarms from everywhere. This brother’s legacy was far-reaching. The community was embracing this family in their time of need. Face to face changes the story.<\/p>\n
I couldn’t find her in the crowd. I wished I could have done more. Could have said more. But then what could I say? What should you say? What really can I say in Portuguese beyond what I have already said? The language wall stings even more in times of grief. In times of heartbreak for such a precious friend.<\/p>\n
I remembered the hug we shared the day before. Her clinging to me and sobbing on my shoulder. All I could do was repeat her name tenderly and hug right back. Language is so important but right then I couldn’t find any extra words. Just her name. Oh just her precious name… And yet face to face changes the story and changes me.<\/p>\n
So much is still so foreign. But I knew one thing for sure on that day in the cemetery. So I just stood there in Matt’s shadow and prayed for our dear sister. Prayed over her.<\/p>\n
…Precious Jesus, comfort like only You can…<\/em><\/p>\n And then the crowd began to slowly swell back toward the road.<\/p>\n She led the line out.\u00a0The sea parting for her and her family. She was now completely silent. Now carrying the burden privately. As culture dictates.<\/p>\n Another’s words burned into my mind as I watched her walking: “So many missionary wives and Americans have said that they think African women are so strong,” A friend spoke from years of language classes with Westerners. “But we’re not strong, we’re just stuck in great suffering.\u00a0It is just as devastating as it is to Americans. We just live with it more.”<\/p>\n These words repeated over and over as she took each step. She stared straight ahead. No one spoke to her as she returned to the house. No one reached out their hand to her. They just moved aside so she could go.\u00a0Returning to the house. Because… what else do you do?<\/p>\n The time of public pain was now complete.<\/p>\n His body was in the ground.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I found her back at the house\u00a0and waited my turn to\u00a0hug her.<\/p>\n Our precious sister. She was so stiff and slow. So calculated, but sincere.<\/p>\n I gave her the pictures and cards the girls made her. They wanted to show their love for her even though they couldn’t be there. She smiled\u00a0that familiar smile, and a little light of the tension released from her body as\u00a0she asked\u00a0about “our Eden” who only wanted\u00a0her\u00a0on that Monday. Eden had woken up with a slight teething\u00a0fever and found her place comfortably on our sister’s back. Eden lay her head on our sister’s shoulder blades and they both just smiled. Such comfort for them both amidst a challenging day. We\u00a0all didn’t know it would be his last day here.\u00a0We didn’t know he would take his last breath late that night. And\u00a0then\u00a0when I went to take Eden so our sister could finish her work, Eden just cried and cried\u00a0to be back on her dear friend’s back.\u00a0“I can’t let the baby cry,” she swaddled Eden back in place and Eden was instantly happy again. Such a smile that came from our sister as she brought such peace to Eden. That same smile on her face as I stood there\u00a0with our sister outside of her brother’s house. Our sister graciously received the girls’ paper love with genuine gratitude. Face to face changes the story.<\/p>\n And then our dear sister returned to the house, washed up\u00a0and put on new clothes. The eminent pain now over. Hope still found in a new start.<\/p>\n Hope amongst the sorrow.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Praise the Lord that her brother in no longer in pain.<\/p>\n But more importantly, praise the Lord that she will see her brother again when she sees her Jesus face to face.<\/p>\n Because face to face really does change everything about this\u00a0story.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n It was a long few days of waiting. The timing wasn’t right to go. Though our hearts longed to see her again, we waited for the right time. Prayers were constantly lifted up. And we missed her so. She’s just our normal, friends and family. It has nothing to do with her\u00a0carrying the workload for us, we gladly shouldered the load without her. But it has everything to do with\u00a0just her personality. She is always missed when she’s absent.<\/p>\n The rain hit as soon as our feet hit the soil outside of the car. We all broke out in laughter with the neighbors, graciously sharing their closet-sized road-side\u00a0shack\u00a0as the rains down-poured. We laughed and greeted everyone as they offered us chairs because Africans know how to do hospitality like no one else I have seen.<\/p>\n And she came running through the down-pour, all smiles and hugs for the girls. We all laughed about the rain and then made a dash for her house between shower waves. The whole family came to life during our visit. There were so many smiles as the girls snuggled our sister, Rachael shared stories in Portuguese and we laughed about getting soaked to the bone the other day when the big rains hit in a crazy storm. Oh how\u00a0the people here celebrate the rain. Rain brings forth crops and is much to be thankful for.<\/p>\n It was SUCH a blessing to see\u00a0our sister\u00a0laugh and Eden absolutely sank into her, putting her arms around her precious friend\u00a0and holding her tight. Eden sat there completely still for 10 minutes, just holding onto her precious normal.\u00a0Our sister’s\u00a0relatives were all smiles at Eden’s affections. Even\u00a0the spouse of the deceased\u00a0was all smiles as she shared in the visit. Praise the Lord for children. They are for sure a helper in hard times.<\/p>\n After a week of missing\u00a0our sister\u00a0and walking this hard road with her, it warmed all of our hearts to see\u00a0so many\u00a0prayers at work in her life. She absolutely glowed in the middle of the harsher realities of this world.<\/p>\n Jesus is healing her and her family one day at a time.<\/p>\n Oh how face to face has continually changed this story.<\/p>\n Thanks be to God, for the face to face.<\/p>\n I am forever thankful\u00a0 and forever changed by the face to face.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" She stumbled through the crowd toward the truck. We hadn’t seen her yet. She was lost in the sea of people. People were everywhere! Sitting, standing, repeating the same Shwabo chorus. It rippled through the crowd, taking on its own identity. A quiet, heart-moaning song. We were standing for the service before the sea turned… Continue Reading →<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-18106","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","clear"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/todayslegacy.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18106","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/todayslegacy.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/todayslegacy.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/todayslegacy.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/todayslegacy.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=18106"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/todayslegacy.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18106\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/todayslegacy.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18106"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/todayslegacy.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18106"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/todayslegacy.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18106"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}