We have banded together to pray for Marie.  Individually.  In our families.  As a team.  She's on our hearts continuously.  

What a shock it was for her to be with her father yesterday when he died so suddenly and unexpectedly.  And to have to sit there by his body while waiting for Guy to come.  

Guy who was called out of school.  Guy who scrambled to make emergency arrangements.  Informing his seminary professors that he would be missing classes for the time being.  Making arrangements for someone to pick the girls up after school and care for them until whatever time he and Marie would return home.  Phoning ones who could help him financially in this crisis moment.  And finally finding a bush taxi that would take him the hours drive to Marie.  

What must she have gone through.  The numbness that comes with shock.  All alone with death.  Not permitted to run away.  Chained there by cultural constraints.  

When it was all over, when Guy had finally arrived (just as quickly as humanly possible), when the hospital had been paid so the body could be released, when the body had been transported to the closest morgue and the required deposit paid, when they returned to the village to meet with a stunned and shocked family, when they were finally able to return to Yaounde and to their girls, when Marie lowered her exhausted body onto their bed, sleep evaded her.  She tossed and turned through what was left of the night.  Thoughts tumbling around in her head.  Emotions rising and falling.  Memories crowding on top of each other. 

We are committed to praying for her.  Often.  Continuously. Unfailingly.  We are united.  We are family.  We stand together. How grateful we are that she knows the God of all peace.  The Great I Am.  The One Who alone is able to carry her through this difficult time.