Tribute: Bless his soul

I'm sure I'd be embarrassed if I looked back at old blog posts, from when I was green to Africa 9 years ago! Because, unfortunately, too many of us coming here thinking we're going to teach people from the wealth of knowledge that we possess. I think the longer I'm here, the more I realize how much I have to learn from the people I came to serve. This family taught me this most of all...

It's easy to scrutinize families and traditions of other cultures because perhaps they haven't had the opportunity to learn the Word like we've heard since we were wee. But this one, it gripped me beyond the scrutiny.

I'm not sure when they married or the complete history, but what we did learn from this patient was that he was married, and perhaps life got tough so he went looking for a better way. This landed him in Zimbabwe and eventually with another wife. Then life threw a twist again, he got sick-- started with dementia like symptoms, his wife in Zimbabwe was fed up and sent him back to his homeland. He found his way back to his first wife in Mozambique. I don't know if she welcomed him back like the Prodigal, or how that went for her, but by the time we met them...

she was caring for an advanced dementia patient beautifully! This isn't a diagnosis/situation we've seen a lot of. It was classic of the patients I once cared for in dementia units in the US. The thing that blessed my heart the most was how this woman cared for him. He was ALWAYS clean. Usually he was wearing his t-shirt that had 3 cartoon toads on it. They were wearing funny clothes, one with boxers on his head. The caption of the Tee said, "Toad-ally Wasted"! I laughed every time, they didn't know what the shirt said.

Upon admission to the program, as per usual, he received our "comfort care pack" including a Storyteller with Bible stories and songs. Unfortunately, a few weeks later in his curious way, he had pried it apart and it was no longer working. I took it from them to see if Chad could repair it. It was beyond repair. And, I feared giving him another one because I figured he'd just destroy it again. But, he NEVER forgot that I was the one that took his broken one away. From that day on he called me a THIEF!  Until...until it was the day that what his restless soul need was the Word. Of course, we gave him a new Storyteller. And, as I've shared before, the evidence spoke for itself. He was restless, in obvious pain, thrashing to the point that I wished we had morphine more than ever. We gave what we could and the minute he heard my girls singing on the Storyteller he calmed, he held the device to his heart and we left him in peace. I trust the Holy Spirit did the rest. A few days later we heard that he had died. His dear wife wept in our arms when we visited her. She had done everything and more that a loving wife of any culture would do. Indeed it was beautiful.

I now hope he now knows what his t-shirt said. I hope he laughs. We will always remember. Bless his soul.