Grief!

We have passed through the valley of the shadow of death. The Lord has been with us, but the loss still tears us up inside. The little baby whose birth we celebrated last week, little Leonel, entered the local hospital at 2am Wednesday morning because he was having a hard time breathing. At one point, his breathing even stopped. He was diagnosed with pneumonia. We all prayed fervently. But the Lord took him home Thursday morning at 2am. How the young parents are grieving! Last year they lost their first son just after he had learned to walk. He died from malaria. Now, once again, they are childless. We are all heartbroken. The mother sing songs her grief, telling the story of what happened, recounting every detail that reminds her of her lost son and the grief she feels. Our face grow wet with tears too.

Yesterday was the funeral. We face death directly here. Our Ywam leader arranged for a local carpenter to build the tiny casket, a wooden box with a black cloth nailed to it, with a white cross on top. Our Ywam leader's wife helped dress the body in the morgue. Then as the father and relatives watch, they placed the body in the coffin.

I drove our car the 2 hours down the mountains to the village on the lake where the burial was held. For the most part, it was a silent ride. The father and mother and close family were in my car, as was the tiny casket holding the little body.

Once we arrived at the village, we had to wait 2 hours while the men dug the hole. We women, probably around 20 of us, sat outside of the grandparents' home and sang....for 2 hours. We would run out of songs, but then others would prod us on: "Sing! It is your job."

Then we had to wait another 1/2 hour as an uncle had gone to the local mosque for the 1pm prayers. Finally, all was ready. They opened the casket in the grandparents' home and people could file by to say goodbye. Then the casket was carried outside, and the family and friends gathered around. It was a mixed group of Christians and Muslims. One of our YWAM friends gave a powerful message, challenging everyone to be ready for their day of meeting the Lord. To be ready, is to be covered by the blood of Jesus.

Then I drove the car with the family members inside slowly down the road, the 1/2 mile to the cemetery. Behind me followed the crowd of villagers and friends, children running alongside the car. Then there was another message and prayers at the grave site and then the family threw clods of dirt into the hole. Then the men line up to take turns filling the hole while we all watch. The last job is to push the wooden cross into the fresh mound and put little flowers on the grace. I dissolved into tears when I went to place the wilted pink wild rose on the dirt pile on the grave. How can a mother watch her beloved child be buried? As our YWAM leader's wife led out in song, "Hallelujah, there will be a New Jerusalem." And then we could go home.

Some of the heaviness was gone now. We ate some food prepared for us.....fresh little fish the size of your fingers....you eat it head and all.....and rice. We met the family of both the father and mother of the deceased. Then by 4:15, we had to head to the car to make the climb back up to Lichinga before dark. The family stayed behind to complete the three days of mourning with their family. Traditionally, there would be more ceremonies to do, but since this young family are new Christians, they have announced that these ceremonies will not be necessary.

My children were well cared for during the day by special friends in Lichinga.

Well, I didn't plan to write so much, but maybe it is therapeutic for me to process in this way. We appreciate you prayers.