Last week I traveled to Windhoek because I needed to conduct some business and see some people in the "big city". I made a plan to stay overnight for a couple nights before returning to our hometown. Well, I'm getting off track. The more important thing is that I had a few folks who tagged along - my oldest two (Kailey and Ashlan), and the lady we help out who has taken in 10 children. I will call this lady "S" (since this is a public blog). "S" was on her way back to take care of her mom again who has been struggling with cancer for some time now.
When we arrived in Windhoek we went straight to the house where S's mom stays. The location is in "the location" - which is what they call the Township-style cities situated around most of the major population areas that one time served as the forced relocation areas for the black people. Bottom line - it still looks like apartheid when you go into those areas. The area is ripe with reminders of life under the old regime.
So, as I was saying, we arrived at the house. There we found her mom with two ladies standing over her bed fanning her with newspapers trying to keep her cool. Every time I have seen her in the past she has looked frail, weak, and terribly sick. The cancer started out small, as it normally would. In recent months it has spread to almost every conceivable corner of her body. The doctors sent her home last year with morphine in hand, saying there was nothing they could do. And now, here she was... lying in wait of a miserable death. The room was an oven - probably over 100 degrees Farhenheit by the time I arrived (mid day). The ladies were doing the best they could to keep her comfortable. But I couldn't sit (or stand) idle.
So, I went to one of the big chain stores in Windhoek - called "Game". It's the closest thing to a Wal-mart that southern Africa has. There, I bought a cheap fan and an extension cord. We drove immediately back to the home and plugged in the fan. The extension cord was to help bring the power in from the house next door.
As soon as the fan was on I saw a wave of relief fall across two faces. First, the face of the old, feeble mother who was laying in her overheated, emaciated state. Second, the face of "S", whose tears spoke gratitude greater than I could have ever asked for. And then, the mom called over "S", and spoke in a voice softer than one I've ever heard before. The words were small, and I could hear only the faint clicks of the Damara language she spoke. And then, "S" said, "my mom says, 'thank you'. And she says, 'now I can rest, because he brought the wind'." She hugged me. I tried to act nonchalant and comfortable. But, I admit I wasn't. It's hard for me to receive appreciation for things like that. I just want people to experience Jesus in a real way. Nothing more, nothing less.
I went away from that experience hoping that the real message of the Gospel made it through the thickness of the environment and the heat of the day. Jesus saves... yes...BECAUSE, Jesus loves.
This morning, I received a call from "S" at about 6:30am from Windhoek. She told me that her mom had died. She has been through so much pain, and I was only able to offer a bit of comfort near the end. I wish I could have done more.
"I'm so sorry Auntie "S". I will tell the children", I said. And so I did.
And then I sat for about an hour holding the 13 year old girl who was raised from a baby by S's mom. She cried the entire time. The other 9 sat mostly stone-faced. And at that moment I again "preached the Gospel" through loving them. I do love them.
And then Jesus brought the wind. Comfort came. Night has since fallen.
Tomorrow is another day, and more winds must come, lest this place become singed by the scorching heat of reality.
It says 132. 
The boys were making the best of it.
