It’s a good thing, “God knows.”  These two words were heard to be said many times in the last few days.  This was the one assurance we all had, regardless of our level of faith or spiritual experience.

From a logical, human, reasonable perspective I was wondering things like: Why did I end up planning to travel alone from Nicuadala (home) to Pemba (capital of the Province of Cabo Delgado from where I’d be based for almost two weeks - visiting 15 of our satellite schools)? Why did I plan the Tuesday as a day free of any meetings during such a busy schedule? Why get sick so far away from home? The list goes on…

God IS sovereign!  Of that I have NO doubt.  I am SO limited.  Of THAT I have no doubt.  And this truth is “ok” with me because I know that HE loves me and works all things together for my good.  He is my father, after-all.

Here’s the story:

Friday morning (Sept 5^th - my mommy’s birthday) had me driving alone from our town, Nicuadala, to the town of Cuamba up in Nampula Province.  I stopped on the way to visit one of our national Pastors who I am hoping will soon be one of our professors at the Bible College.  The roads were good, the trip went well. I found enough fuel along the way to keep the truck going without pulling out the jerry cans.  Thanks for praying.  I arrived in Cuamba ahead of my expected time.

Having greeted everyone I knew in Cuamba and having confirmed plans for Saturday’s graduation service, it was time to relax.

Saturday was a busy day with final plans, graduation service, lunch, and then visiting some of the other missionaries in the area.

Sunday was another travel day.  One of the Brazilian missionary families were planning on going to Pemba and so they came along with me to Nampula on Sunday and then on to Pemba on Monday.  This saved them from an 11 hour hot steamy and crowded train ride and then a crazy 7 hour cross country bus ride and, I was glad to have some company.

On Sunday evening I attended the Nampula Missionary Fellowship and found it very encouraging to see a little bit of what God is doing in this part of the country.

We arrived ahead of schedule into Pemba on Monday afternoon.  I had planned to meet with the Theological Education by Extension (TEE) provincial leaders on Tuesday morning but, with the early arrival, we met on Monday instead.  Tuesday morning I did the administrative work that I needed to get done for the rest of the trip and then… I started my relationship with the bathroom. 

Between 9:30 a.m. and 5 p.m. on Monday the 8^th I had seven visits to this little room.  The other people in the house had horrified looks on their faces every time I walked out of one of these very personal meetings.  The fact that my choice of meeting room had no door - just a curtain, might have helped them to hear better the content of my meetings.  By early afternoon, the one lady (who has nursing experience) began to suggest I head to a hospital… Please understand that the morgues in this country are always built on the same properties as hospitals and with good reason.  I was not interested in going to any Mozambican hospital/morgue.  By 5 p.m. I started enquiring about the availability of reliable medical personnel in town. 

Shortly after this I drove myself to the Clinica Cabo Delgado which is a relatively new (two years old) private clinic built in a remolded hotel.  Within minutes of arriving, the Italian doctor had me on an IV drip and was running a host of blood work.  He seemed excited about it all.  I was just glad he seemed to know what he was doing, I sure didn’t.  Remember, “God knows.”

Since leaving the house on Friday morning I had dropped about 9 kg (19 pounds) by the time I checked into the clinic on Monday evening.  Most of that was from fluids lost during those 7 noisy meetings.

After noting the dehydration (pasty skin, racing heart, poor blood circulation, sticky mouth) and getting the blood work report the doctor started me on a very strong antibiotic treatment.  These syringes were administered through the IV needle in my right arm.  With every shot my arm swelled up, apparently the IV hadn’t found a good vein.  During the night the nurse came in to change the 500 ml IV bottle whenever he remembered.  At one point I woke up suddenly, from my fitfully uncomfortable dozing, to find the bottle almost empty.  As I waited for the nurse to come in I realized that I had less IV than nurse.  So, in order to avoid “sucking air” I closed off the drip hose and laid there waiting for a new one.  More than half an hour later, a new bottle showed up and I tried to get back to my resting.  At one point, in the early morning hours, the bottle dried up but the pharmacy staff weren’t around, so they pulled the hose out of my arm, capped the needle, and I was able to get about an hour of sleep, without the hose restricting my position.  When the staff showed up, so did another bottle along with the leash, and there went my comfort again.

Being that my room in the clinic had an ensuite “meeting room”, my body decided to continue the relationship started back at the other house in this new place.  During one of these middle-of-the-night emergency meetings I jumped up out of bed so fast that I pulled the IV hose out of the needle which was buried in and taped to my forearm.  I looked down and saw blood slowly dripping out of the “port” in arm and saw the IV hose slowly dripping onto the floor.  All I could think of was, “Hey, that hose belongs in here.”  So, I grabbed the hose and pushed it back into the needle… My immediate thought was, “Ow” as I had to push hard enough to get the hose back into the needle but couldn’t secure the needle in place - I could only reach it with the one hand. 

In the moments which followed, while I was in my next meeting, I wondered if I had done the right thing by putting the hose back in again.  Should I have tried to walk downstairs and find a nurse to do it?  Had I not done it right and would now have an air bubble in my vein which would cause heart failure when it circulated that far?  Would anybody ever know what would have been my “cause of death” if that happened?  When would they finally come by and check on me and find my body here?  By then, I couldn’t concentrate too much on these thoughts as I was being called to another meeting was and had to respond… When would this all end?  “God knows.”

By Tuesday evening the doctor said I was re-hydrated and although the diarrhea and a slight fever still continued I could leave the clinic.  The antibiotic treatment would have to continue on Wednesday and Thursday.  These four visits (every 12 hours) had me exposing my backside to four different nurses and going for four little walks before getting into the truck to drive out.  Sitting down was not a popular option for good little while after these penetrating visits.  Friday afternoon the doctor ran some more tests and figured out that he had dealt with the bacterial infection in the gastrointestinal system but now had to face the parasites.  Nine pills at a time, for three days.  His advise with this treatment was, “Take them just before you lay down for the night otherwise you’ll have a rough time.”  I obeyed.

By Saturday evening my strength was slowly returning and I had an opportunity to visit with a group of the missionary family in Pemba.  Again it was very encouraging to see what God is doing in this country.

On Sunday morning, I attended a new church building dedication.  As we drove there, we had the church secretary meet us on the main road and show us the “way” in.  Apparently a vehicle couldn’t get the church, and if it did get down to the area it would not be able to make it back up and out again.  This all sounded like a challenge to me.  When I got to the first obstacle I engaged my lowest gear and crawled safely down the steep slope.  The coil spring suspension got me through the trenches further on without ever losing traction.  On the way up and out, the center diff lock had the truck going up the hill, in first gear at about 1,200 RPM with not a bit of wheel spin.  Thank God for such an appropriate vehicle.

Monday I travelled back to Nampula while enjoying the fellowship of the Brazilian couple from Cuamba. After a relaxing night at a missionary’s house I’d be driving on to Nicuadala alone. 

As I pulled out of town, I saw a Land Rover which I recognized.  There was a missionary couple doing the same drive, same day, same time.  We agreed to drive together.  I found it very relaxing to be driving with them instead of alone.  I enjoyed their company every time we stopped, even when it was to help them change a tire which blew out along the way.

By mid afternoon I was safe and sound back home in the arms of my loving wife and my excited son. 

I never did visit any of the TEE centers in Cabo Delgado but that’s ok, God knows.

Thanks for your prayers to God and your notes to us.  You have encouraged us much during these days, and God knows that too.