For the past eight years we have finished our year by going door-to-door in our neighborhood.  We give our neighbors a gospel track and a loaf of banana bread.  We wish them Happy New Year. Historically New Years is more important in the culture than Christmas.  That is why we choose to give gifts at this time.  Banana bread is not in their culture, but they quickly figure out that it is yummy. While they love the bread, they politely put up with our tracks.  Occasionally we stumble across a child of God.  It's a changing audience.  There are many small (as in minuscule) studio apartments interspersed with big houses like ours.  Studio apartment people tend to move frequently.  

This year things were different.  For the first time ever we saw an interest in spiritual things at several houses.  One dad told us he was going to read the track we gave him.  Said he had read the one we gave him last year.  Even read the one we gave his kids when they showed up at Shiloh on New Years Day.  He had questions, but didn't have the time to ask them right now.  We invited him to come to our house any time with his questions.  One lady invited us into her home and had us pray for her.  

We end 2016 encouraged to see that our little year end evangelistic outreach is starting to produce small results.  And we step into 2017 excited about all the possibilities that await us.

The unthinkable is happening.  My trusty laptop is dying.  It started back in September, but all the early symptoms were easily ignore-able.  And then, just four days ago things got serious.  Yesterday I took my laptop to our local computer doctor.  He urged me to get a new one ASAP.  Today things took a turn for the worse.  

But on the "good news" side of the ledger, today we learned of someone who can hand carry a new one out to us in early January.  So Favorite Youngest Son (our very own, very favorite computer guru) is busy picking out just what Dear Old Mom needs.  

I'm knee deep in producing what will be a 30 page document for the government of Cameroon.  It's our biggest computer project of the year.  This is our annual report on all the activities of our Association.  And it's due in January, preferably nearer the beginning of the month than the end.  Well, everything is on hold now as we wait for the new computer to arrive.   

We've been friends for many, many years.  He comes to Shiloh on infrequent spiritual retreats.  But we go back twenty years at least.  This evening when I was registering him in the office, I casually asked how things were going.  That's when the story spilled out. 

He has worked for a Christian organization for a lot of years.  In fact, he's one of their oldest employees.  But these last few years have been difficult to put it mildly.  It's a whole long story and not one to share in this forum.  Suffice it to say, it has not been easy.  While his story is unique, it mirrors a situation we were in some years ago in many significant details.  I was reminding him of our story and he reminded me that he was there.  In fact, during part of that time, he and I were meeting weekly to pray.  And what a blessing and encouragement he was.  Now it's my turn to pray for him.  We're supposed to bear each others burdens.  It's my honor to hold him up before the Throne of Grace.

They boarded the bus in the Far North and began traveling nearly the whole length of the country.  Their destination?  Yaounde and registering their three week old baby girl with the Swiss Embassy.  Partway down on this incredibly long and arduous trip, they received a phone call from the family they always stay with when in town.  Plans had changed.  They would not be able to stay with their friends.  A few frantic phone calls later, while traveling on a bus that was driving in and out of phone connections, they learned about Shiloh.  Yes, we had a room available for the week.  It was our last one.  Yes, the family of five could all fit in the room.  They anticipated an 8 p.m. arrival time.  No problem.  Around 6 p.m. they phoned back to say the bus was now stopping at every little berg to let passengers off and pick up new people.  They couldn't possible arrive at a decent time.  "No problem.  Keep coming.  We'll be here whenever you arrive."  And so it was that at 3 a.m. they finally arrived.  

We came out here to Cameroon all those years ago to serve people.  And this dear family certainly meets the basic requirements.  In the process of serving others, we have been so blessed to meet countless thousands of lovely people from many walks of life, who speak many different languages, and come from a wide variety of countries.  Once again we are being blessed by getting to minister to others.  There is room at this Inn this Christmas season for new born babies and all others.

We've been friends for a lot of years.  Another missionary introduced her to me.  She was a single mom, struggling to make ends meet.  Had a heart for children.  Started a non-profit called Kids Ko-Op.  Taught the children from her village how to make things.  The girls learned to sew.  The boys learned basket weaving and carpentry.  But most importantly, she taught them about the Lord Jesus Christ.  Taught them Bible stories.  Helped them memorize verses.  When they memorized enough scripture, they earned a Bible.  

We teamed up.  Began selling some of the things the children made.  Went to bazaars and other sales.  Found all kinds of creative ways to market their products.  Sometimes we traveled to her village.  It's a long, long ways from Yaounde, but we loved to go there and help out.  We talked with the children, told them Bible stories, too.  Jim repaired all her sewing machines for her.  

And then one day she phoned to announce that she was getting married.  An older widower had asked her to be his wife.  She was overwhelmed at God's great blessing to her.  She had never been married before.  Back before she knew the Lord as her Savior, a traveling salesman convinced her to set up housekeeping with him.  He'd come through the village on sales trip several times a year.  Told her that he was going to marry her just as soon as he could.  So it was OK for them to live together in the meantime.  Shortly after their second baby arrived, she discovered that he had "wives" all over the place.  Their relationship dissolved and she was left to struggle on alone.  When she heard the gospel, she gave her heart to the Lord and began living for Him.  And now she was getting married.

Jim sent me on up into the mountains for the wedding.  I had the honor of attending the paying of the bride price ceremony.  The following day I was there when they went before the mayor for the civil ceremony.  And I was there for the church blessing.  What a delight it was for this dear girl to be marrying a kindly, godly older man.  He owned his own home and had a good retirement income.  They had three delightful years together before his health began declining.

These last years have been difficult for her.  She went from rejoicing in the companionship of a dear man, to becoming his caregiver.  He has gone through one crisis after the other.  Many times he has been near death.  She faithfully and lovingly nurses him back to health and strength.  She has been such an example of godliness for his adult children and for all the rest of us.  But it hasn't been the marriage of her dreams.  

Several medical crisis back she made me promise that I will come and be with her whenever he should die.  None of us know when that will be, but I stand ready to help out my good friend.

The last couple of years I have been phoning her ever 2-3 months, just to see how things are going.  Just to let her know that she is not forgotten.  Just to remind her that I'm still praying for her.  

Today, being Christmas, was a good day to phone her.  She was so overwhelmed that I was still remembering her, still praying for her.  "Oh Ma," she exclaimed, "that's why we are still alive!"  

Wish we lived next door instead of nine long and difficult hours apart. Someday, someday soon, we'll spend all eternity together around the Throne of Grace.

This truly has been the morning after the night before.  All hands were on deck early.  The final four pastors, here on individual spiritual retreats, knew they had to vacate their rooms by 8 a.m. at the latest.  5,000 sq. ft. of floors were swept and mopped.  Four bathrooms were cleaned to sparkling perfection.  Every bed in every room was changed.  New towels were set out.  A bottle of filtered water for each room.  Tables and chairs were put back in order.  Tablecloths washed and hung out to dry.  

We tackled refrigerators, too.  One by one they were unloaded and unplugged, until only one was left in service.  Two turkey carcasses were put in a large pot to simmer for hours.  And all the leftovers were processed and put into another large pot.  Leftover turkey was chopped fine.  As were the buttered carrots.  Add the turkey stock and stir well.  Now at days end we're savoring the most mouth watering turkey soup ever!  When the pot cools down, it's contents will be packed away in freezer containers.  We're envisioning all those future guests who will start their meals with a little bowl of Shiloh's famous leftover soup.  

And now we are ready and waiting.  Waiting for the next group to arrive.  Men from a local church are coming for their Christmas spiritual retreat.  They will be with us until Christmas morning.  They will never know all we have done to be ready for them.  It's just what we do.  And we do it over and over again, year in and year out.  Truth be told, we love what we do and wouldn't change a thing.  Serving others is a great way to live.

He asked me to put some pictures on a stick for him.  Said he wanted pictures of Papa Jim and Mama Alice.  Pictures of our sons.  Pictures of their wives.  Pictures of all eleven of our grandchildren.  And could I please do this favor for him without asking questions?  And have it ready by tomorrow?

I dutifully did as I was told.  While sorting through piles of pictures, I found some wonderful ones of Dan, Tim, and David.  Some perfect ones of their wives.  Terrific grandchildren pictures.  And I also found some memorable photos of Guy, and Francis, and Doris, and Joseph.  Along with their spouses.  And those adorable black grandchildren of ours.  Couldn't resist giving them all to him.  After all, our family spans the ocean.

Well, they broke all the rules.  Did what they are NEVER supposed to do.  They gave us a Christmas present.  After all the special music.  After Papa Jim read the  Christmas story to us.  At the very end of a wonderful program, they presented a rather large gift warped package to us.  We opened it amidst protests.  Reminded them they weren't supposed to do this.  But when the paper came off, we instantly forgave them!  They had put together a beautiful collage of all the pictures of our family.  Of our white family and of our black family.  They had it made up at this shop in town that does top notch work.  Wow!  What a gift!  What memories!  What a treasure!  Now to find the perfect spot to hang it here at Shiloh.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

Francis had the day off.  His daughter, Grace had her school Christmas program today.  All good dads and moms were there.

Doris was off all morning.  She was in the hospital having the first of three malaria treatments.  Came to work at noon and was a big help.  She's weak, but was able to peel potatoes and carrots and sweet potatoes.  Then she went home to rest.

Guy didn't come to Shiloh until the early afternoon.  Spent all morning long, and then some, standing in a forever line, waiting to pay our electric bill for this month.  Thank God for Guy!  If he wasn't there, it might fall on ME to pay our utility bills.  He showed up in time to clean two bedrooms.  One was urgent as the next guest was soon to arrive.  Shiloh is all but full tonight.  Only one empty room

Papa Jim was up to his eyeballs and beyond in last minute Christmas present preparations.  In fact he's still at it.  But by all indications, everything will be in readiness before the party tomorrow afternoon.

So that left me to do all the preparations for our annual Christmas party.  And somehow, it all got done.  The gravy is made.  Just needs to be heated at the last minute.  The dressing is ready to pop in the oven a half hour before we eat.  The homemade spiced tomato juice is chilling in the fridge.  Along with all the soft drinks.  And the yummy dessert.  The birthday cake for the baby Jesus is made.  Just needs to be frosted in the morning.  The two turkeys are ready to be stuffed in the morning and then go into the ovens.

But tomorrow everyone will be on deck at 8 a.m., and many hands will make light work.  Guy is ironing table cloths. Mama Alice will set the tables in all their Christmas finery.  That's her specialty.  The potatoes will be cooked and then mashed.  That's a job for Francis.  The buttered carrots will be cooked at the last.  Oh yes, and Mama Alice has to make this wonderful sweet potato casserole.  

Don't you just love Christmas?  It's a lot of work, but a lot of fun, too.  And the memories last a lifetime.

He's a refugee from another African country.  He and his family started coming to our church.  Got involved in the men's group.  Very serious about his walk with the Lord.  They struggle.  Finding it tough to land a job.  Even temporary jobs are hard to come by.  He's a real hard worker. But claims people don't hire refugees.  It's not easy.  But he has his wife, their child, and God.  Together they cling to the God of the Impossible.  

Recently his landlord approached him about the back rent.  Said it had to get paid in full.  Gave a deadline.  Pay up or move out.  Was going to find other renters who would pay their bill.  Couldn't keep going like this.  Enough is enough.

This was his number one prayer request.  Cried out to God all the time.  Asked the men's group at church to pray with him.  Went to the pastor for special prayer.  And Heaven was silent.  The days slipped by.  Nothing.  No work.  No part-time work.  No pennies from Heaven.  Nothing.  That last night he didn't go to bed.  When his little family turned in for the night, he quietly began packing their few belongings.  The landlord said he would be there bright and early in the morning.  He would either pay in full, or out they would go.  The tears were streaming down his face as he talked with the Great I Am.  Told his Heavenly Father he was willing to live out on the street if that was what God had for him.  Only asked that God would protect he and his family.  

As the new day dawned, he received a phone call.  Someone was coming to give him something.  Could he meet them out at the road?  So he went out, not knowing what to expect.  To his utter and complete amazement, he was handed all that he needed to pay his back rent in full!!  What an Awesome, Faithful Almighty God he serves!

And then, just because God is God, and He does what no man could do, that same afternoon someone came to his house with bags full of food.  The joy of the Lord is flowing all over the place at their house!  God is alive.  He is real.  He really does hear and answer prayer.  In His way.  In His time.  For His honor and glory.

Klaus is a missionary.  Lives and works in the northern part of Cameroon. Married to a Cameroonian lady.  Doing a wonderful work for our Lord.  Stays at Shiloh at random intervals when he's in Yaounde.  Great man.  We really enjoy having him at Shiloh.

Max is a medical doctor.  A surgeon with a rare specialty.  The only surgeon of his type in all of Cameroon.  Works at a mission hospital in the northern part of Cameroon.  Comes to Cameroon twice a year.  Always stays at Shiloh his first night back in country.  Always stays at Shiloh his last night in country.  Goes back home to earn lots of money in his chosen field.  Then comes back and invests his unusual talent (and his finances) in the lives of poor people out here.  Warm.  Friendly.  Outgoing.  Everybody loves Max.

Last night Klaus and his niece rode the train down from the North.  Arrived at Shiloh just before ten this morning.  His niece is flying back home tonight.  He's down here just to help her out.  She doesn't speak much French.

Last night Max rode the train down from the North.  Arrived at Shiloh right at ten this morning.  He's flying back home tomorrow night.  Wanted a shower, a nap, a hot meal, and a good night's sleep before catching his flight.

Klaus and Max are both German men.  Klaus and Max both work in the  northern part of Cameroon.  Klaus and Max know many of the same people.  Klaus and Max each travel back and forth by train.  Klaus and Max each always stay at Shiloh when in Yaounde.  Klaus and Max didn't know each other.  Until ten this morning.  When they bumped into each other in the front hallway here at Shiloh.  They became instant fast friends.  They are overwhelmed to discover that they have traveled in the same circles for some years and yet never crossed paths before.

There is a saying around here.  Coined by a Cameroonian pastor.  "Everybody comes to Shiloh to meet!"  This happens all the time.  It's fun to watch from the sidelines.

We're in what we affectionately call "Dirty Season" when we "shovel" dirt!  It's officially called the long dry season which is rapidly morphing into Harmattan.  That's when the Harmattan winds blow off the Sahara Dessert, and the sky turns a dirty shade, and the whole world becomes very dusty and dirty.  It's the only bad time of the year.  But we spice things up with lots of beautiful Christmas decorations (that have to be cleaned before we put them away for next year) and make the best of things. It only gets pretty awful (as in I'm SICK AND TIRED OF ALL THIS DIRT) after the first of the year when we put Christmas away.  Then it's nothing but dirt, dirt, dirt, with no relief in sight until the rains come back.  It takes about three big rains to wash all the dirt out of the sky and off all the trees and plants.  But that won't happen until February, so we get to sit back and enjoy the ride until then!  Not that we're complaining, you understand!  I don't start the serious complaining until early January!!!  We finish off Dirty Season with a massive Spring Housecleaning event that lasts for at least a month, depending on how many guests we have in the house.  All work is done around the edges of them.  Being a little bit crazy, I really love Spring Housecleaning.  But for now we're shoveling a lot of dirt out of the house in the form of dusting, sweeping, and moping. 

Did you hear it?  Were you listening?  Surely the sound traveled all the way across the Big Pond to you.  

When we were younger there was an American singing group known as Sixteen Singing Men.  Well here at Shiloh, we have been entertained all week by "Twelve Singing Men and a Woman".  They have blessed us more than words can tell with their music and in just about every other way.  These are the Cameroonian missionaries with Every Home for Christ.  And can they sing!  One of the men plays the piano and the guitar.  Nearly everyone can play our two drums.  They found our basket full of hand held rhythm instruments, too.  They not only raised the roof at Shiloh, they gave us a foretaste of Heaven.  What a week it's been!

Today I went to visit my good friend Mama Pauline.  Ever since we buried her pastor husband, I have been committed to visiting her once a month.  Widows are quickly overlooked and forgotten.   She is very grateful that I am still thinking of her.

We talked about this and we talked about that.  How hard it was to start all over again.  No longer a wife.  No longer a pastor's wife.  Trying to find her new roll.  Where does she fit in? Having to learn so many new things.  Never in her whole life has she had to change a gas bottle.  We cook on bottled gas here in Cameroon.  But now that she is alone, she has had to change her first bottle all by herself.  Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she missed her husband more than words could tell.  Somehow she managed to connect the new bottle and move on to the next challenge.

Together we discussed the possibility of her starting a new group for other widowed pastors wives.  Said she knew of one not too far from her.  And surely with a little research they could find others.  Maybe they could meet once a month to pray, study God's Word, and discover ways to help each other as they struggle to find their way alone.  This was an exciting prospect.  Gave her something to look ahead to.  Maybe she would be useful again in the future.  As we hugged our good-byes, there was hope in her eyes.

We were sitting in Papa Pollycarp's house out in Eyene getting ready to pray.  In fact, Mama Clair was singing a song and everyone had their eyes closed.  For some reason I opened my eyes in time to watch a giant scorpion walk into the house, without so much as a by your leave.   

We grow them large here in the Rain Forest.  This one was easily 9 inches long.  Our brand of scorpion can live to be six to eight years old.  Truth be told, their sting is virtually harmless.  Forget the siting!  Me?  I'm dying of fright here!!!

Since I was the only one in the room with eyes open, I decided I better alert Guy who was sitting right next to me.  He opened his eyes, shouted, jumped to his feet and quickly grabbed a broom.  With one wack the scorpion became history.  Black guts and body parts went flying across the cement floor.  I've never seen anything like it before.  And may I not live long enough to see it again.  Once was one time to often.

Sometimes life gets a little too exciting out here in Darkest Africa!

They started arriving yesterday afternoon.  One from Bamenda, then from Ngaoundre, next came Buea, and on and on it went.  Twelve in all.  They've come from all over Cameroon for their week long conference.  And they are bringing stories with them.  Stories of civil unrest in Bamenda.  A problem that has been smoldering just below the surface for a very long time.  Now that it is spilling out in the open, it won't be resolved overnight.  Stories from Ngaoundre of the refugee situation.  Refugee camps swollen with children who watched their parents being brutally murdered before their very eyes.  Children who need the love of God and so much more.  The practical needs must be addressed along with the spiritual.  There is no other way to reach them.  Stories from Buea and the police station that was burned to the ground last week as a sign of protest against our goverenment.  Stories from the Central Region of people who are trapped in traditional religion and bound by generations of strife, and above all else, resistance to the Gospel.  In spite of all the challenges from every corner of Cameroon, they are excited to be engaged in this mammoth task.

Every Home For Christ.  Started in the United States 70 years ago.  Came out to Cameroon 15 years ago.  Tasked with an enormous, overwhelming job.  Literally going door to door all over the country with the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ.  All are Cameroonian missionaries.  All work full time in this ministry.  All are dedicated to the task, no matter what. 

What a joy, what a privilege, what an honor to host these people here at Shiloh.  They are here for a week.  Eating three meals a day.  Keeping us super busy.  But we wouldn't miss out on this for anything. 

Yesterday was a red letter day in the life of the professor.  He's been coming out here to French speaking Africa for many, many years.  He's a seminary professor, and a very good one at that.  We have had the honor of having him at Shiloh numerous times.  When the professor comes, his students show up at all hours, seeking his help.  So we get to know them, too. But yesterday was the culmination of years of effort on his part.  One of his students received his Doctor of Theology degree!  And the professor returned to Switzerland last night, floating on the clouds.  What a thrill for him to see one of his students complete years of hard work.  He went back home knowing that he has left behind a very well qualified man, able to teach others.  And indeed, he will be doing just that. 

Mme. Mpomo, her daughter, and her 4 year old granddaughter stopped by for a visit today.  Said she didn't want the year to end without coming to thank us for all we have done for her down through the years of our friendship.  Brought us a music DVD she had produced earlier this year.  Her daughter cooked a pot of corn chaff for us.  They just couldn't thank us enough.

We met in early 2007, shortly after I had returned from my 95 year old mother's memorial service in the U.S.  She wanted me  to speak to a group of ladies.  I shared about my mother's life and death, and the need to be prepared to die.  The end can come at any time for anyone.  As a result of the things I shared, several of the ladies gave their hearts to the Lord.  

 

Our friendship deepened over the years. She is a well educated, cultured, upper class lady, with a good paying job.  Her husband also has a good paying job.  She came to know the Lord sometime after she got married.  Her husband, though a nice man, never has accepted the Lord as he Savior.  She has been back to Shiloh many times, often with a group of ladies.  

 

And then one day she fell sick.  It was a strange sickness.  She was talking out of her mind.  The family didn't know what to do.  In moments of coherence she told them to bring her to Shiloh.  We  would be able to help her.  It turned out that Jim and I were in the U.S. at that time.  But Guy was there and he spent a lot of time trying to help her.  He prayed for her and with her over and over again.  Finally the family took her to France.  She was hospitalized there for a long time.  She was in a coma for part of that time.  They diagnosed her with a serious mental problem.  Eventually, with medication and counseling, she began to recover.  

 

She was brought back to Cameroon to live with her daughter until she would be strong enough to return home to her husband.  It was then that she learned her husband had thrown her out of his house.  He did not want a wife who was mental.  So she took up permanent residence with her daughter and family.  She had lost her job over the course of her illness, but was at retirement age, so has not tried to find another job.  Slowly she regained full health and strength, and her mind was fully healed.  She gives all the credit to our Lord.  

 

And so during 2016 she wrote and produced a DVD to the Glory of God.  She wanted to let us know how much she appreciates the part Shiloh played in her illness and ultimate recovery.  We had a wonderful visit and then I prayed for her before they left.  She is a dear lady and a living miracle.

I stepped out of our village house this afternoon in time to have a front row seat to the most spectacular sight!   At the base of one of our large mango trees, newly hatched termites were soaring skyward from a hole in the ground.  Billions of them were billowing out of the hole.  And out of nowhere a certain kind of bird arrived for their Christmas Feast!  They were swooping in from every angle, diving down and capturing termites just as fast as they could.  It was something to behold.  It went on and on and on for a very long time.  Several of us gathered to watch the spectacle.  It was difficult to imaging how even one termite could survive this attack on their very lives in order to produce the next generation.  Surely termites were becoming extinct right before my very eyes.  And then it happened.  Slowly, almost without notice, the bird population diminished.  They went from uncounted numbers to just a handful.  Clearly their little bird bellies were ready to burst.  One can only eat so much at a Christmas Feast.  And as the birds took time out on nearby trees, the termites slowly gained the victory.  Many thousands of them DID live to see a new day, did live to reproduce.  Termites are not going extinct after all.

 

Wow!  Where has this week gone?  And why haven't I found the time to blog?

Here's the rundown:

Monday

Eric picked me up at 9 a.m. in his trusty taxi.  With Christmas shopping list in hand and a pocket full of money, I was determined to do the impossible.  It was to have been a one day shopping marathon.  Then I would be done and wouldn't have to think of going back into town again.  No more hassling with the dreaded Christmas traffic, which seems to get worse every year.  

Good idea.  Brilliant plan.  Forgot to calculate just how long it takes to maneuver through traffic at this time of the year.  Returned to Shiloh at 5 p.m.  Exhausted!  Tired of shopping!  Bah-humbug!  List not finished.  Have to go back into town.  Hopefully just a half day though.  I've almost licked this problem.  How bad can it be?  But not tomorrow.  Tomorrow is reserved for finishing decorating Shiloh for Christmas.  Cannot drag that project on any longer.

Tuesday

The best laid plans of mice and men...How does that saying go again??

Eating breakfast with a guest when the phone rang.  Missionary friends wondered if I could possibly go out to the airport right away and pick up their lost luggage?  Just got word that it has safely arrived.  Sure.  I could do that for them.  After all, the airport is the opposite direction from town and all that traffic.  Shouldn't take too long.  Then I can tackle the final Christmas decorating.

On the way to the airport learned that another missionary needed help buying a particular book that is not sold in her area.  Sure.  I could help her with this project.  How hard could it be?  True, I would have to go into town.  But only part way.  I knew the exact bookstore that carried this book.  She needed 14 copies for a class on marriage which she will be teaching in January.  

What should have been an easy favor to do for a friend turned into a living night-mirror.  I spent three hours trying to buy the books.  Finally gave up in despair.  Owner of the bookstore offered to bring them out to Shiloh in a couple of hours.  Sounded like a good idea.  Gladly paid for her taxi fare.  Little realizing the major drama and trauma I was getting myself into.  It took three hours and many phone calls to connect the lady selling the books with the friend buying the books.  But finally, after we had long given up hope, it all turned out well.  After 8 p.m. When we were all so exhausted we could hardly stand upright.  

Wednesday

Back into Yaounde to (you guessed it) finish all the Christmas shopping.  Should be back around noon, I announced on my way out the door.  Funny, ha ha!!!  I should know better than to make rash predictions.  At three p.m. there was only one thing left on the list to buy.  And then the fun began.  We went from shop to shop, from one end of the city to the other, up and down, back and forth, before we finally found the last item.  By the time we fought our way through traffic and got back to Shiloh, it was after 6 p.m.  Hoping, longing, wishing that I won't have to think about going into town until sometime after the New Year.  I'm getting too old for all this rushing around!

Thursday

Which  brings us to today.  Spent a quiet day at home.  Christmas decorations are finally all up.  Shiloh looks stunning.  This afternoon a group of Seminary doctoral students came to Shiloh for a farewell party for one of their professors.  He has been with us for two weeks and returns to Switzerland tomorrow.  Many of these students have stayed at Shiloh for varying lengths of time as they work their way through their Master's program and now their Doctoral program.  It's been a joy and an honor to have a small part in helping these future church leaders from various African countries.  Their seminary is a short walk away from Shiloh.

It's Sunday.  

And we were not in church.  

Again.  

For the umpteenth Sunday in a row. 

But we were in ministry.  

Again. 

For the umpteenth Sunday in a row.

We wouldn't be anywhere else

doing anything else.

We truly love what we are doing.

She's been to Shiloh many times before.  Often with her husband.  But this time she came alone.  She eats breakfast and dinner with us and spends all the rest of the time in her room.  Has many projects she is working on.  Taking time to rest and relax a bit, too.  Theirs is a very busy ministry.  He's a surgeon and she is a nurse.  Doing a wonderful, wonderful work for our Lord.  We dearly love this couple.  They always bless and encourage our hearts.

This time she needs to be ministered to.  This time she lingers at the table talking, sharing, unburdening her heart.  Breakfast began at 8 a.m. and ended at 11 a.m. Dinner went from 5:30 p.m. until 8 p.m.  She's found a safe place here at Shiloh.  And we are honored to be here for her in her hour of need.  

Did we mention that we truly love what we are doing?

Papa Lobe was a Daoula man.  Daoula men were at his funeral today in abundance.  They were easy to spot.  They wore long skirts, un-tucked long sleeved white shirts, and little black hats.  We even saw a darling little three year old boy decked out in his little skirt and shirt!  The women were impossible to recognize.  They wore traditional Cameroonian dresses like all the rest of us.  

When our Cameroonian grandchildren spotted us, they made a bee line to where we were sitting and gave us big bear hugs.  These kids call us their White Grandparents.  We tell our grandchildren in America that we are their Black Grandparents.  

The ceremony was in French, translated into Daoula.  A number of the elderly didn't speak enough French to be able to understand what was going on.  Papa Lobe was well honored and our Lord was glorified.  He had selected a number of the songs that were sung.  The Gospel was clearly preached. 

It was a sweet, sad time as we gathered together at the mortuary to assist in the "removal of the body" ceremony.  Papa Lobe, our friend and the very first employee at the U.S. Embassy here in Cameroon, has gone home to Glory.  All of his adult children were there, some coming from as far away as France and from Eugene, OR, U.S.A.  Death is part of life.  And death is the future of all of us.  While we miss our friend, we do not sorrow as the world does.  We have the bright hope of being reunited in Glory some day soon.

We are knee deep in decorating Shiloh for Christmas.  It's a lot of work, but very rewarding at the end of the day.  (Or more accurately, the three to four days that it takes to do this large job.)  Some years ago an 8 foot tree was donated to us, complete with lights and ornaments.  It fits perfectly in our dining room.  Like it was made for the spot.  And then a few years later we acquired another, smaller tree, which is put up in the library.  The downstairs tree is topped with an angel, the likes of which we could never afford to buy.  All the decorations on our big tree are more formal.  The overall effect is quite breathtaking.  The five foot tall upstairs tree is the fun tree.  Many of the ornaments were hand made miniature toys from Germany, all of which were given to us.  It's topped with a hand made angel, made by yours truly years and years ago. 

When the trees are set up and the lights are turned on, we move on to all the nativity sets.  We have a total of four sets.  Each one is more breathtaking than the other one.  

Christmas is a special time.  We  truly love this time of the year as we focus on the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Could we talk, she asked.  Her heart was breaking as she poured out the story.  

Ebogo's brother-in-law has put a stop to their romance.  Turns out he was the problem all along.  Does not want Ebogo to marry a girl who is not from his church.  He's the pastor.

Ebogo is devastated.  He's madly in love with our girl.  Never imagined he would be able to find someone so perfect for him.  And yet, in the culture, he cannot go against the will of the family.  He has no choice.  They must part.  The tears are flowing.  Hearts are broken.  Life will never be the same again.  

But God.  The God Whom we serve is still in control.  He can do all things.  If He wants these two people to marry each other, nothing is too hard for Him.  If He knows some reason unknown to them why this would never work, may His will be done.  They are clinging to God, following hard after Him.  Determined to submit to His will, no matter what the outcome. 

The best way to tell about our trip to Bandjoun for Thanksgiving is to start with Rachael's report on the things that happened prior to our arrival.  When she talks about "Thanksgiving guests", that's us.  Rachael is a young school teacher, living with Ellen, a career missionary.  She teaches Ellen's adopted Cameroonian daughter, Doris.

> Rachel's perspective, Nov. 23, 2016:
> What a day! To those of you who prayed for me today, thank you! I would never have imagined when I went to sleep last night all that would happen in the next 24 hours. Yet throughout it we saw that God was in control. I woke up at 5:30 AM to hear Etienne, our guard, and Ellen crying out, Brie (the dog) was dead. Brie was an amazing watch dog. No one would ever come on our property with Brie's fierce bark, yet she never bit anyone. We were always alerted to everything going on. She was truly a good friend that was hard to lose.
> Brie was poisoned. During the night, Etienne heard some noise but looking around our property saw nothing. Someone must have thrown some food over the fence containing poison and Brie, who loved food, ate it. She threw up by Ellen's truck and then laid down and died. The blood coming out of her mouth was a sign she was poisoned. Etienne found her lying there in the early morning. Ellen, Doris, and I all cried. Not only had we lost a friend but we were afraid for our safety. Who would poison a dog but to go for the house next?
> After Brie died, I cried and cried as I had my devotions. God was so good in giving me promises from His Word. "He will never leave us nor forsake us." "When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the rock that is higher than I." "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." I felt this ache and heaviness in my heart, like how could anything possibly be worse. But it did get worse. Yet God was with us.
> Thankfully Ellen went to the police, which was important as we made their contact for what would happen tonight. Doris and I stayed at home making preparations for Thanksgiving tomorrow. Because of the security issue, Ellen made contact with a Christian dog breeder and veterinarian, Asong, who had a dog already for her--a 7 month old German shepherd. After prayer meeting we brought her home. She is terrified at the present especially after what happened tonight, but we are praying she will make a good watch dog.
> Etienne was coming to work when we arrived home. He helped us unload the dog and went back to get his phone. Thank the Lord he went home. (He lives next door.) His fiance Sheila was tied up by 2 men. These 2 men had been seen by Etienne and another good neighbor Jean Baptist wandering around the neighborhood the previous day. As strangers , they were wondering what they were up to. Well, now we know that these men poisoned Brie, interrogated Sheila as to the whereabouts of the "white woman," and wanted money.
> Poor Etienne and Sheila really "took the beating" for us tonight. In the process of the nightmare of an evening, Sheila escaped and came running to our house, tied with packaging tape. She was so traumatized that she lay on the kitchen floor vomiting into a bucket. Etienne was hit in the mouth and bled much. As many as 20 or 30 neighbors gathered on the street. The police came. The 2 bandits were captured.
> We are staying here tonight with Etienne and Sheila staying with us for protection. Tomorrow we will go back to the police.
> It was a terrifying evening. Yet we still have much to be thankful for. Thankful for missionary and national friends who were praying for us. Thankful that Etienne went home and found Sheila before something worse could have happened to her. Thankful that although Brie is dead, no humans were killed. Thankful for good neighbors who stick together in time of need. Thankful for a new dog that God immediately provided. Thankful for the police and their willingness to come tonight. They are also patrolling the area tonight. Thankful that Doris was staying overnight at another missionary's house and did not have to witness this whole ordeal. That our guests for Thanksgiving had not yet arrived. Thankful that our house is safe.
> Perhaps you wonder reading my list of thank-yous how I can be so calm when so much bad happened today. Well, I have never been so afraid in my life. Yet I must assure myself God is in control. No matter where I am something bad could happen to me. I am only safe because God is watching over me. God gives strength and peace as we're going through a trial. Although I have many unanswered questions I know that God is still God. He won't allow anything to happen to us that is not in His plan.
> We would all appreciate your holding up our house and neighborhood in prayer tonight--for safety, peace, and wisdom. As we all celebrate Thanksgiving tomorrow, we truly have much to be thankful for. I feel like today I lived one of those nightmare stories that happen to missionaries that you read about in books. Yet just as true as the reality of today was, so is the reality that God is with us. In His peace I rest tonight!
> "Above you are God's overshadowing wings,
> Underneath you are His everlasting arms,
> All around you the angel of the Lord encamps to deliver you,
> Inside God's peace that passes all understanding guards your heart and mind."
>

 

We arrived back at Shiloh just before 4 p.m. today, tired but happy to be back home.  We've taken showers, washed two loads of laundry, eaten a bite, and are now headed off to bed.  

We have several days worth of stories to tell, but are too tired to start in tonight.  So come back around tomorrow (if all goes well on our end) and listen to an amazing saga.

Tomorrow morning we will be traveling to the town of Bandjoun to celebrate Thanksgiving with a group of American missionaries.  Our plan had been to travel there today, spend the night, and travel on to Bambili with them tomorrow, to link up with even more missionaries.  We were to have been around 30.  But plans change, Plan B comes into play, and life moves forward.   Now we will only be 14 at our Thanksgiving table. 

Why did plans change you ask?  Good question.  We invite you to do a Google search of "Bamenda" and see for yourself what is going on in the area we are no longer traveling to.  Civil unrest has broken out in the English Regions of Cameroon.  It was to have been a three day peaceful strike.  By afternoon of day one, young people began spilling out into the streets and things were anything but peaceful.  

We do not know what the future holds, but we do know the One Who holds our future.  And we rest secure in Him.

She was subdued when she came to work this morning.  We headed straight to the office where her story spilled out.  It seems that her time with Ebogo's family on Saturday did not go as hoped or planned.  Everyone was nice enough.  Pleasant and friendly.  They treated Doris with kindness.  But then the meeting began and very quickly Ebogo's mother brought everything to a grinding halt.   Her concern stems from the fact that Doris's father (the sperm donor) is from the same tribe as her people.  Even the same village if I understand things correctly.  

This was certainly not news to any of us.  Guy had done the work, ferreting out the facts on the ancestry of this invisible man who impregnated Doris's 16 year old mother and then disappeared.  He openly disclosed all of this to Ebogo three weeks ago when we met him.  They were both satisfied that there was no relationship between he and Doris.

But his mother is not satisfied.  She says that Ebogo is young (29 years old) and does not know the family tree as she does.  Her great-grandfather had 78 wives.  Yes, you read that correctly.  That's seventy-eight wives.  (And you think you have problems with just one!)  She is concerned that Doris's father could show up somewhere in the descendants of all those wives.  And if he does, four generations later, there will be no marriage for this young couple.

So let's do the math here.  Back in the day when Ebogo's Great-great-Grandfather was marrying all those gals, the goal was for each wife to produce at least ten kids.  And most of them were successful.  We know a 75 year old wife who produced 14 babies.  Even as recently as 25 years ago when we arrived in Cameroon, every man did everything he could to have at least ten children.  So it is not an exaggeration to imagine that this great-great might have fathered 780 children.   And the next generation would also have done all to have ten children each, which brings us to a nice round 7,800.  We need to multiply by ten for one more generation which makes 78,000.  We have just arrived at Ebogo's mother's generation. They were starting to reduce the size of their families.  Some still had ten children but some only had five.  So let's give her generation five kids each just to be conservative.  We're now up to 390,000 descendants from Great-great-Grandfather.  Of course some of these people died before bearing children, and some did not produce the obligatory 10.  So erring on the side of conservatism, let's bring that number down to 300,000.  What are the odds that somewhere in all that crowd we will uncover Doris's Dad?  Kind of scary.

Mom has decreed that this relationship is on hold until she can call a family meeting and sit down with all the family, her generation and above.  Together they will search and search and try to determine if somewhere in all that mess, Doris and Ebogo are related.  If they are, the wedding is off.  

Ebogo is heartbroken.  He's wild about our girl.  He's told all his friends about her.  Doris is frustrated. She's a very private person so has only told a handful of people.  But she has been steadily falling in love with this man of her dreams.  And Guy?  Guy's not sure what the Mother is trying to pull. It's flat out impossible to sort through that mob of people and come up with any kind of answer that will satisfy her.  What is her real motivation?  Is she truly concerned that the young couple not be distantly related?  Or does she not like something about Doris?  

Unless Guy has another idea, all we can do is wait and watch and pray.  All things are in God's hands and He does all things well.  The Mother says she will have an answer for them in two weeks time.

By the way, I've never been able to figure out what America's fascination with polygamy is all about.  We know scores and scores of polygamist marriages, and an equal number of adult children who grew up in the midst of this kind of mess.  We have never met anyone who is content and happy and fulfilled in their marriages.  We know endless stories of all the strife, and turmoil, and confusion that results. There is no happily ever after.  Think of the problems that are still traveling down through the generations because one man decided he needed 78 wives!  God's way is best.  Always and forever. 

Last evening friends invited us to join them at a dinner show put on by the Junior Class at Rain Forrest International School.  RFIS is the mission high school that our youngest son, David attended 25 years ago.  

We had a great time.  Good food.  Good entertainment.  Good friends.  Laughed a lot.  English only spoken.  A large room full of white people.  Amazing!

We never go out and do stuff like this.  I mean like never, ever, ever.  Except when someone drags us out.  And on those rare times we always tell our selves "This was fun.  We don't do this kind of thing often enough."  

And then we slip right back into our very busy, very fulfilling ministry.  Mostly Africans.  Lots and lots of French.  Totally different culture.  And we love every minute of it.  

But it's good to escape into the Western culture once every great long while. 

 

Bride Price.

Ever heard about it?

Buying a wife?

What's this??? 

Well, we've spent the last 25 years living in a country where paying the Bride Price is alive and well.  It works like this.  When a man finds a woman he would like to marry, he, along with a handful of his relatives, visit the girl's family.  They sit down together and discuss the fact that this man wants to marry that lady.  Important questions are asked.  If in the end, everyone is satisfied with this man, they agree to give their daughter (niece, granddaughter, sister, whatever) to him in marriage.  At the same time, they present him with a list of things they want for the Bride Price.  This list can contain anything from a new motorcycle, to a pair of shoes, to some African material, to a new cooking pot, to you name it.  Literally anything can be on that list.  And the monetary value can mount into the thousands (U.S. dollar equivalent that is). 

Now one could take issue with the bride price.  Call it selling daughters.  Declare it is just plain wrong.  Encourages couples living together without marriage.  (And one can make a very valid argument for that position.)

Or one could take the opposite position.  The Bride Price shows the value we put on our women.  And so on.

It's pretty hard to find a verse in the Bible to stand on.  There's no "Thou Shalt Not" or "Thou Shalt".  And over these last 25 years we've watched the Bride Price go though the upper stratosphere.  Couples are indeed living together without marriage in alarming numbers.  Things have gotten completely out of control.  

So the President recently stepped in and took control. The law now states that no Bride Price can be in excess of 150,000 F (around $300).  This price is attainable for any man, no matter who he is.  He goes to the extended family, and each one makes their contribution.  In no time at all he can raise 150,000 F.  It's an excellent law.  

But mankind being who he is, numerous families are rebelling.  They tell the man who wants to marry their daughter that it is the government who has put the limit on the Bride Price.  Here in their family, the Bride Price is some outrageous amount.  Like it or lump it.  As with anything, change comes slowly.

 

He asked if we could talk.  Needed help sorting out some things.  We went to the balcony, away from people, and sat down.  Seems friends have been telling him that he needs to become more outgoing.  Not so quiet and shy.  He should talk more.  And probably they're right.  After all, he feels God leading him into the pastorate.  Pastors have to be outgoing.  Could I help him?  Teach him how to be more talkative?  

Well, he came to the wrong person.  I don't happen to believe that all pastors must be outgoing.  I told him about my Daddy.  He wasn't a pastor per say, but he did a lot of teaching and preaching in the church.  Had a home Bible study for many years that lasted right up until he died at age 92.  Daddy was nothing if not a shy introvert.  But God used him in his shyness.  When he began teaching, he lost all shyness.  Was able to articulate the deep truths of the Word very well.  

I let him know that it was Creator God Who made him an introvert.  God loves him very much just the way he is.  And He is wonderfully able to use him in ministry as a quiet man.  By the time I was done waxing eloquent, his eyes were sparkling and his face was full of hope.  Maybe he could just be himself for the glory of God.  

We love our ministry out here in Darkest Africa.  Each day is different.  Never dull and boring.  Opportunities to minister to all sorts of people abound.  Life is full of adventure.

She's in town right now.  Arrived late last night.  Came with the express purpose of sitting in her daughters home and watching what is really going on.  Wants to see it with her own eyes.  Figures a couple of days will be long enough to get a handle on the reality of this dreadful common law marriage.   

Knows all the "he said she said" stuff that's been going back and forth for years now.  Is fully aware that the father of her daughter's four children is a drunkard.  Knows he barely works, and what income he does make is spent immediately at the bar.  Comes home in the wee hours of the morning dead drunk and ready to fight.  Has been known to pick up a 2 X 4 and start beating on his so called wife.  All of this and much, much more she knows.  

But now, now she sees a glimmer of hope.  Maybe there is a chance for change.  Maybe she can find a way to help her daughter climb out of the mess she's been living in for so long.  And what makes the difference?  A couple of months ago her daughter gave her life to the Lord.  Cried out to Him for salvation.  Genuinely wants to begin walking in newness of life.  Started going to church.  Started reading her Bible.  Started praying.  Started being concerned about her situation.  

And so this dear, dear godly mother, who just happens to be my most treasured friend, is coming to help.  She hopes by the end of this brief visit that she will be armed with enough ammunition to really help her girl.  You see, with the tremendous amount of godly wisdom that she possesses, she does not assume that her daughter is the innocent victim.  She is convinced that if her adult daughter will begin to let God transform her into something beautiful for His Kingdom, this dreadful mess could improve.  If she would take responsibility for her stuff, confess it as sin, and let God take control, things will change.  

Long live godly mothers.  To God be the glory!

 

He left Shiloh convinced that he had blown it.  

We didn't like him.

He would be forbidden to pursue our girl. 

His life was over.

How would he ever be able to go on 

without this lovely lady who had invaded his life, 

his thoughts, 

his every waking moment?

Life couldn't get any worse than this.

 

He nervously phoned her.

It would be the last time.

No matter how deeply he had come to love her, 

he could not, 

he would not disrespect our wishes.

But what was this?  

She's reporting that we liked him?

We gave our consent to this relationship?

We were impressed with his walk with God?

Oh the wonders of life! 

He  was soaring in the clouds.

The birds were chirping.

The sun was shining.

Life could not get any better than this!

He reported to her that he had been very nervous.

coming to the home of whites.

He was overwhelmed with how kind we were.

How we treated our employees like family.

How they ate at the table with us.

How we interacted with them,

teased them,

obviously loved them.

And now, 

now,

oh the wonder if it,

now he too would be included in our family.

Slowly he would win our hearts 

and he would become one of us.

How wonderful the future will be! 

All praise to the Lord God Almighty.

Glory to His Name.

 

He came.

We interrogated.

He was a bit nervous.

Not too much.

Just a bit.

He passed the test.

We ate.

We laughed.

He remained a bit nervous.

Gave good answers to our questions.

Doris kept catching my eye.

Trying to read my reaction to her guy.

Then he left.

The mother talked privately with each one.

And one by one we all said the same thing.

In the end, I gave the go ahead to Doris.

Her smile was wide.

She is in awe of God.

Who could have imagined two months ago that we would be here today.

We marvel at all that God is doing for our girl.

Tomorrow is the big day.  Doris is a mixture of nervousness and calm.  Tomorrow we will decide if "Mr. I'm Interested in Your Daughter" can move forward with his plans.  His future, their future, hangs in the balance.  

We are ready.  Shiloh is shinning.  The food is all planned out, purchased, and partially prepared.  We've discussed fully who will say what and what will happen next.  What are we looking for?  How will we know?  It's all pretty much culturally dictated.  A cookie cutter formula, really.  

It begins with her introducing this stranger to us.  Who is he and why is he here in our home?  Then he must tell us who his family is.  We listen carefully to hear if he descends from anyone who shows up in our girl's family tree.  After we've determined there are no taboos against a marriage, we let him know we are a strong Christian family.  Does he know our Lord?  We listen carefully to his testimony.  We tell him in no uncertain terms that we do not want to hear about them having sex before marriage.  No pregnancies.  No abortions.  For their sake, the standards are high for our daughter.  The questions will move on to his ability to support our girl.  Is he living by faith alone?  With his head in the clouds?  Or does he have adequate income to take care of her, even when she gets sick?  And where will they live?  And on and on it will go.  

We anticipate no more than two hours of interrogation, including eating together.  When he leaves Shiloh, he will not know if he has passed the test.  But if we are able, that is we all feel comfortable about this relationship,  I, as the mother, will be commissioned to talk privately with my daughter and let her know that she can move ahead with our blessing.  She will rush home and phone him with the good news.  If, however, we have misgivings, we will meet and discuss things until we all decide on our answer.  It may be early next week before she will know our decision.  

WOW!  Getting married Cameroonian style is not easy.  Daughters are not given away to any old guy that comes along asking to marry them.  This is serious business.  Much rides on the outcome.  Future generations will be impacted by this all important decision.   

We are trusting Almighty God to guide us in a clear way as we go through this important first meeting.

It happened this morning, on this the first day of November in the year of our Lord 2016.  He passed from death into life.  And now he's enjoying the fullness of life.  And our sorrow at his passing is mingled with joy.  Imagine what it must be like for him to be face to face with the One Who loves him so.

We've been friends for more than ten years.  We met through one of his numerous daughters.  We've been invited to his home many times.  Eaten many meals together.  Were included as part of the family for the wedding of his daughter, our friend.  Were there to join in the family celebration and joy later on when his youngest daughter got married.  Have visited one of his other daughters each time we've been back in the States.  This kindly gentleman of the old school was always so sweet to us.  We bumped into each other at U.S. Embassy functions.  He was one of the early employees of the Embassy.  Worked for them for more than thirty years.  And they kept right on inviting him back for the big events after he retired.  This dear man truly loved the Lord.  That's why we know beyond all doubt that he is at Home in glory now.  We can hardly wait to see him again, someday soon.

The family is arranging for a car to come and pick us up.  Hopefully that will be tomorrow.  We want to spend some time with them, participating in their great sorrow and loss.  In addition to sitting with the family in that home we know so well, we will be there whenever they bury our friend.  We want to show our last respect in every culturally appropriate way.  This quiet, humble man deserves nothing less.

I'm trying to look and act like I'm calm, cool and collected.  But it's just a facad.  We're new at this stuff and I can hardly wait to get to the part where I can start shouting from the roof tops.  Our girl is in the very first stages of getting married, and not being excited is not easy for this old grandmother!  The man in question is coming over for a meal on Saturday.  We will all be there:  Papa Jim, Mama Alice, Guy, and Francis.  We're her family.  The family God gave to her.  And we are going to interiogate this man to death.  By the time the day is over with, we have to decide if we give him the green light or if we say NO WAY, NOT NOW, NOT EVER!!!  We're all coming up will little stratagies on how to trick him into exposing his true self to us.  And everyone is sharing their stories about what it was like when they went to the girl's house to express interest in marrying the daughter.  While we all love to tease, and Doris is our favorite person to tease, we're being very circumspect.  We've reigned in our emotions.  This is all very matter-of-fact.  God will lead us.  He will make His will plain to us.  We're taking it one step at a time.  There is no rush.  But truth be told, I'm about to explode!  I love romance and fairy tales and happily ever after and weddings and all the planning and preperation that goes into it.  I can hardly wait to roll up my sleves and jump in feet first!  Enough of this calm, cool, and collected stuff already!!!

Last week I stumbled onto it by accident.  I was only in that taxi because our favorite and next-to-the-favorite taxis were otherwise occupied.  And therefore I had to settle for choice number three.  We got to know that particular driver through his Uncle a few years back.  And so it was only natural that I should get around to asking him how his Uncle is doing.  I knew they were struggling, but hadn't realized just how bad things were.  I learned that the car they bought last year was bought on credit.  In fact the nephew-taxi-driver was the one who arranged the loan through a rich friend of his.  At first the Uncle was making regular monthly payments.  And then the difficulties came, and came, and kept right on coming.  Until they were reduced to hand-to-mouth living.  The Uncle, his wife, three girls, and now the new baby boy.  It's been a struggle each day.  Finally the Uncle had to park the car.  He could no longer afford to pay the insurance, buy gas, etc.  And the difficulties continued.  The rich man who loaned the money is complaining.  It's past time for at least a good-faith payment.  Preferably the balance due.  It's negatively impacting the taxi driver's relationship with the rich man.  He surely will think twice when our friend needs to barrow money again for his own needs.  But the Uncle cannot do a thing to climb out of this deep hole.

This story tugged at our hearts.  The Uncle just happens to be a pastor.  He pastors a small village church up above Bamenda, in the  Northwest Region.  He is also a dear friend of ours.  We've known each other for a long time.  And it hurts to see our brother in the Lord in such a bad situation.  But what could we do?  Our money had run out for the month.  Well, we could pray, and the God of the Impossible could do what Only He can do.  And then our support for the month of November arrived.  WOW!  By the Grace of God alone, we found we had enough to be able to help.  We're paying the debt in full, rejoicing every step of the way.  We are also sending an additional gift to our pastor friend so he can get his car back in service, plus buy some food for the family.  God is so good.  He alone knows why He allows His children to go through dark and difficult times.  But what a blessing to be able to Help a brother in need.

We spent the day in the town of Akolalinga, visiting friends.  It was most interesting to observe the various languages flowing back and forth.  Our common language was French.  But at times our grasp of French broke down, and we reverted to English to ask for clarification.  While our friends are French speakers, at times their grasp of French broke down and they reverted to Bulu, their tribal language.  And right in the middle of the puddle was our assistant, who is fluent in Bulu, French, English, with a couple of other languages thrown in for good measure.  He's worth his weight in gold, for that and a whole lot of other reasons.  So with lots of switching of languages, we managed to communicate and have a grand time together.  They had been to visit us on numerous occasions.  Most recently for my 70th birthday party.  But this was the first we had gone to their town to visit them.  They fed us a delicious meal of catfish and boiled plantains.  What a special day it has been. 

She rang our door bell in a state of panic.  Arms extended, she was writhing in pain.  We pitied her ignorance as we treated her first and second degree burns.  Her story runs like this:

She put a pot of food on the stove to cook for their evening meal.  Then she went into the living room and got absorbed in watching TV.  The odor of burning food drew her back into the here and now.  Rushing into the kitchen, she discovered flames were leaping out of her pot.  In a state of panic (and being firmly convinced that demons were attaching her) she thrust her hands into the roaring fire, grabbed the cooking pot, picked it up and ran out of her kitchen.  As she entered the hallway, she slipped and dropped the pot.  Burning oil in her pot splashed out and caught a curtain on fire.  Continuing on in a high state of panic, she screamed at her little girls to run out of the house and get away from the fire.  At the same time she began dipping water out of her nearby storage barrel, and soon doused the fire out.  She quickly gabbed some money, ran out the front door and across the street to a clinic, leaving her little preschoolers to fend for themselves  The doctor treated her with something for pain and gave her a prescription for an ointment to rub on her burns.  Having used up her small supply of money, she ran to us for help.  We quickly dispatched Doris to the house to look after the girls, and  Francis to the pharmacy to buy the medication.  Papa Jim, our family doctor, put ice on the blistered forearms which immediately reduced the pain.

Her husband reports that this kind of thing happens regularly at their house.  Living with a wife prone to panic has it's challenges.  She often takes off and leaves the little girls alone.  She often burns meals because she is absorbed in TV.  She often does foolish things.  We all tried to help her learn a valuable lesson.  Only time will tell if it took.

But at Shiloh we have been having fire prevention and fire safety lessons.  We're all profiting from this ladies foolishness, even if she chooses not to.