Video #1 - Example of praise team music.
Video # 2 - three different songs - maybe you can recognize two of them (if you have been to Malawi).
Video # 3 - Youth Choir
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Sunday Part 2 - Village Church
I almost did not share the previous post. It really has nothing to do with Annie’s Closet and is not very uplifting. Well, that depends on perspective doesn’t it.
By sharing that story, there are dozens, maybe hundreds more people who can pray for this unnamed sister, and the mother who is dealing with two extremely difficult emotional issues. We can be grateful that there was someone like Don within minutes of the scene of the accident. Even though the local hospital does not have all the modern equipment and medicine available, it was close and there are people there that we trust will do their best for the patients in their care.
Is it too cliche to say, “It could have been worse?” We can all imagine far more tragic scenarios, can’t we? We can dwell on the seemingly negative aspects past, albeit this was not far in the past, or we can learn, praise God in all things, and look for the next opportunity to serve, worship, bless others and bless God.
This morning, I almost finished the book mentioned two blog entries ago. Since I know the fascinating, quick witted, deep thinking, compassionate and somewhat quirky, man that is Jerry Maurer, his book makes total sense to me. It is entertaining and thought-provoking. If you know Jerry, it is a MUST READ. If you do not know Jerry, I am thinking you will still be very entertained so get the book. I don’t even know how a non-Fallbrook-local might even get a copy -- should I? -- well, I think Jerry will appreciate the free publicity -- JerryRMaurer@gmail.com Reminder: It is Called From Jer to Eternity.
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| Three beautiful ladies, dressed in colorful Sunday dresses. |
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| View on the walk to church. Q: How can you tell this is an "affluent" area compared to other areas? A: Paved road, metal roof, power lines. |
We walked about 20 minutes to Eesso Village Church. This church would be considered "upscale" compared to some Malawian Village Churches I have attended. There was a cemet floor, instead of dirt, as I had seen before. There was a metal roof, not thatch. Most of the people wore clothes that were clean, and the offering included actual government issued currency, not just tomatoes, corn, onions, chickens, and other genuine “first fruits.” Oh and the pastor had a guitar -- a real one that he played very well. It was a moving experience, nonetheless. The video and audio included in the next blog entry, do not give justice to the actual experience.
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| L to R: Youth Choir Leader, Victor (Abusa son) Praise team member, Mya (Abusa son) |
Not sure if we will be attending another service next Sunday, but I hope we do.
Sunday 7/29 Part 1 - Shoes. Keys. Door. Car. Gone.
Today was a long day. I got out of bed just before 6 am. When I see the sun is up here, I just feel like I should be up, too. As I walked back from the kitchen where I had made a cup of coffee, Don’s mobile phone rang near the front door. I looked at the screen and the caller ID showed a number, but did not show a name. 30 seconds after it stopped ringing, it rang again. Once again, I did not answer. The ringing stopped and Don emerged from his bedroom, just as the phone started ringing for the third time.
From down the hall and around the corner I could hear a male voice yelling through the tiny phone speaker (Not speaker-phone). Don said, “Wait, what?!” ... “OK, OK!” ... “I will be there in a minute!”
As he quickly stepped down the hall, I asked hopefully, “Everything okay?”
“No. There was an accident at the intersection. Truck hit a pedestrian or something.” Don replied as he prepared to leave.
Shoes. Keys. Door. Car. Gone.
My head was working much more slowly than Don’s well trained San Diego County Fire Department trained head was working. By the time, I determined I should go with him, he was out the door. When my jeans were on and shoes in hand, he was gone.
About 90 minutes later, after the girls had showered and Leanne and I had made scrambled egg, hamburger and cheese sandwiches, Don returned and told the story of what had happened. I will shorten the story only slightly.
A woman was riding her bicycle home from the Chikwawa hospital (think civil war era medicine and equipment) with her dead baby in her arms. Yes, dead baby. We do not know why the baby had died, only that the mother was riding back to her village to bury the baby. Her sister and brother-in-law were riding with her on a separate bicycle. A white Toyota pick-up truck had somehow hit both bikes. I do not know how fast the truck was going. The mother was shaken up with some scrapes and bruises. The brother-in-law was in about the same condition as the mother. The baby had been thrown from the arms of the mother and was run over by the truck. The detailed description will be kept from this blog. The sister-in-law was in bad shape - much of the skin torn away from her skull and hanging to the side.
Don rushed her to, government run, Chikwawa hospital and was appalled at the lack of resources - no blood pressure monitor, no this, no that, etc. His gloved hands covered in blood, he did what he could before leaving the woman in the hands of the hospital staff. His final words to us as he related this jaw dropping description of the past 90 minutes: “I hope she makes it.”
It was pretty quiet most of the rest of the morning as we finished getting ready for Sunday morning services at the Eesso Village Church.
It is probably a good thing I have no photos to add.
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