Meningitis

Certain words cannot help but provoke a sense of fear. "Cancer" is one; "meningitis" is another. We were present at the hospital when the doctor told Andrea that her little girl, Kirsten, has meningitis. She's the youngest of Andrea and Kris's children, shown above. A week ago she fell and hit her head. X-rays revealed a skull fracture from over her left ear to the middle of her forehead.

She had fever, but that was possibly due to a cold and flu-like condition she had at the time. It was on Thursday when her fever did not break and Andrea saw evidence of partial paralysation of Kirsten's face that she took her back to the hospital. A CT scan was done, which the doctors say shows no abnormalities around the brain due to the fracture, but a spinal tap revealed meningitis.

Although tests have shown it is the less virulent form of meningitis, little Kirsten is in isolation in Intensive Care, and is not out of the woods yet. Whether there will be long-lasting effects remains to be seen; loss of hearing, cognitive difficulties are possibilities. The doctors say any consequences from the disease will be dealt with in due time; at the moment their priority is to save her life. Andrea's mother arrived tonight from the US to help out the family. Meanwhile, we are all praying and doing what we can. Thank you for praying, too.

Yesterday was Kirsten's birthday: she was one year old.

Under the wire for 2011

From the date of the last post, this is looking more like a quarterly report than anything else. Let's take up where we left off:



What a difference a few months make! The front of the church building looks very bare at the moment. The one good tree had to come down, as well, in order to give balance. The front may be bare, but it's balanced. Why haven't we put anything back yet? We have more or less decided on what to plant on each side of the door, but we were waiting on the conclusion of the paint job. The whole building was painted inside and out, including the property walls and gates. After 7 years, it was time. Which leads to a couple of other pictures, as these last months have been spent in maintenance work in general.




One of the first items of business was to replace the lights that had burned out behind the "stained glass" windows. They aren't needed in the daytime, as the sunlight shines through the glass blocks of the exterior wall, but in order to have the stained glass effect at night, the lights have to be turned on. Because the panels were originally set in place and held by silicone, we couldn't access the lights without destroying the paint job when the silicone seal was cut (Pedro is working on one of the panels). That is why we put off replacing burned bulbs for so long, but when we set the panels back in place we used a different system so that we can access the light fixtures without ruining the paint job. Roberto (on the left) and José Carlos were there to lend a hand.

The finished result looked like this:



Maintenance of another sort

It's not only buildings that require maintenance. Relationships also need constant attention and upkeep. It was during this period that José Carlos and Marcia celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary. They didn't know the Lord when they got married, and they wanted to reaffirm their vows as dedicated servants of God.




Many, perhaps most, of the people present were colleagues from their work (she's a teacher, he's an architect) who are not believers, and some of whom had never been in a non-Catholic church before. They both gave a clear witness of their faith in Jesus Christ and how their relationship with God had changed their lives and their own relationship with each other in the home. Some of you may remember that about 5 or 6 years ago Marcia was diagnosed with Hodgkins lymphoma, and she went through a year of chemotherapy and radiation treatments, which have apparently defeated the disease. Although she was already a church member at the time, it was this experience that led her to "get serious" with God, and the testimony of the two was a clear call to those who have not yet given God first place in their lives.


With their daughter, Susana, and Marcia's parents, visiting from Brazil



Abbie and I celebrated 45 years of marriage this year while we were in the US in August. Shortly after this celebration in November and just before I turned 65 on Dec. 8, we passed the 35-year mark in Madeira, having arrived on the island on Dec. 3, 1976.



January 1981 -- the first Lord's Supper of the newly formed church, Santa Cruz, Madeira, with the entire membership in attendance.
(And no, I'm not wearing a wig...that hair was all mine)

What a difference a few years make!


And in the latest news...

The Christmas Cantata

For almost 20 years, Abbie has worked with a group that has ranged from 9-14 in number, every year a little different in composition, to present a cantata at Christmas and another at Easter. This year we even had people from England, Canada, and Finland calling to get the times of the cantata presentations, as they had attended in previous years and didn't want to miss this year's edition. This year's cantata, The King of Love, was presented in Portuguese (with a little mix of English) on Christmas Eve. We will sing it again in English on Friday evening, December 30, and on Sunday, January 8, in English (11 a.m.) and Portuguese (6 p.m.). Here are a few photos from Saturday night:


Abbie warming up before the start of the service.



The children of the church sang a couple of songs...


...including "Silent Night", in which they were joined by two "older children", who are taking violin lessons from Larysa. I started back in April, or so. Moral to this story: if you're afraid of making mistakes, there are some things you should never attempt, two of which are a) learning to speak Russian, and b) learning to play the violin. Either one provides the student with more than ample opportunities to really make a mess of things. Nobody fled the scene in panic, however, and it did go well enough to lend encouragement for continuing on with the lessons.





Abbie and couple of ladies of the church did the decorations, using poinsettias, which went well with the dress code for the choir: all black with red scarves/ties.



The church began to fill up, so I had to ask Roberto to leave both doors wide open and put extra chairs out on the entrance, which is actually the cover for the baptistry.

We pray that the next cantata services are as well attended, and more importantly as well blessed with the presence of the Lord in the singers and the hearers.

Thanks to all who pray for and remember us. A blessed 2012 to all.

Spot the difference

Can you see the difference 7 years make? The picture of the church building at the head of the blog is not exactly the way it is now. At least once a year I've had to trim the trees on either side of the front door to keep them from completely covering the front of the church.





Now spot the difference. Inexplicably, in late spring this year, the leaves on one tree began to evidence some kind of problem. And then, almost overnight, it looked like this. Then all the leaves fell off and it was a bare skeleton standing there. The Bible talks about barren trees being cut down. This one has been. When we got back from the US, it had been completely dug up and hauled away. Now we have to see whether we should put in another one, or start over with another species of plant. In that case, the other tree may have to go, too.

By the way, we're not the only one with brown trees. We saw plenty of them in the US where the drought has hit Texas and Oklahoma especially hard. These were along the side of a parking lot in Arkansas. Maybe they're the kind of tree that water can rejuvenate, and they will recover with the winter rains and snows. If not, they're headed for the same fate as the tree by our church door.

She made my day

Dulles International Airport... I had just arrived from Newark on a propjet commuter plane and headed for the baggage carousel. Somehow the baggage claim was at the most distant part of the terminal from the gate where we arrived. It was a long, winding walk. Up and down, left then right, down then up... it wasn't even very clear about which carousel the bags for our flight would show up on. In the end, my bag didn't show up anyway. I expect it was the victim of a too-close connection at Newark; after going through immigration then customs, I almost didn't make the flight.

Claim Desk for United (now a part of Continental...or is it the other way around?) We had a Continental ticket but were flying on a United Airlines aircraft. I was not the only one there hunting bags...one man had been waiting over an hour, and they had informed him the bag was in the airport somewhere. He was understandably frustrated, and vocal about it; a Korean lady was distraught, all the more so when the lady on duty explained that someone had written down the wrong number on one of the forms, so they weren't sure where her bag was.

I explained my case to the agent, who made calls to the gate and to other areas. Her Latin American accent was so strong I had trouble understanding her. "Just wait," she said. She was back trying to resolve the problems of the others, the distraught Korean lady, in particular. I waited. I waited some more. Finally it was concluded that I would have to report the missing bag and have the airline deliver it to the hotel. As I turned to head for the other line where I would have to give all the details again, the agent thanked me for my patience. "God bless you!" she said. "And God bless you, too!" I added, surprised by her words. Having stood in her office for 30 or 40 minutes, I got the distinct impression she needed the blessing more than I did.

And a Happy Birthday it was

The main reason for going to the US in August was my mother's 95th birthday. The travel agent told us we could save hundreds of dollars by waiting until September, since August is the high season. I explained that Mom has had her birthday in August for over 90 years and I didn't see much chance of her changing that now. He saw the point of that; we paid whatever extra it cost.



Physically, Mom is a bit slower...more careful, lest she fall, actually. Uses a walking stick to help prevent accidents. Mentally, she's still as alert as ever. She did express some concern over her memory not being what it used to be: she's having trouble remembering the birthdays of all the great-grandkids! We assured her that missing a birthday or two that far down the generational chain should not be a source of great concern. She hit 95 and keeps right on rolling. She's already sent us a couple of e-mails since we got back. And by the way, she expects e-mails in return.

Another birthday


Abbie's father with Joy's children, Finn and Mia


Tuesday, the 13th, Abbie's dad will be 93. He's still very fit physically, the doctor foreseeing Dad to still be around at 100. The doctor has diagnosed him with "stress-caused dementia"...he's never been the same since Abbie's niece and little girl were killed on the way to church the morning after she had informed her grandparents that she was pregnant and expecting another child.

Even on "good" days he has a lot of problems with his memory--who you are, where he's just been. The two days we were there were thankfully some of his better days... Abbie's brother wrote that a few days after we left, Dad was having some "bad" days.


And not the least of which to be celebrated...



But there was another anniversary while we were there. Abbie and I celebrated our 45th wedding anniversary on August 12, as we came over the Rocky Mountains, and we spent the night at Vail, Colorado. It's mainly a ski resort, of course, but we prefer the flowers in the summer to the snow of winter. The Alpine-type constructions were a reminder that on August 12, 1991, our 25th wedding anniversary, we were in Zurich and going for a ride through the Swiss Alps. Being in Vail is almost like being back in Europe.

Back ...and forth

For a few days I was back; now I'm forth.

I last wrote on the eve of our trip to the US. We spent the month there to see family, the timing being particularly chosen because of my mother's 95th birthday. I have some pictures, but I won't take the time tonight to find them and upload them. As I mentioned above, I'm forth.

I was back...we arrived home last Friday, September 3, but "back" didn't last long. I was just about to get used to the European time zone and today, Sept. 10, I had to come "forth"...this time to Washington, D.C., for a week of classes next week. I'll be flying back next Saturday and arriving home on Sunday, Lord willing. Three Atlantic crossings in three weeks...

The last time I attended a workshop here in Washington was in 2002. I was at the school on the one-year anniversary of 9/11. The school is only a few miles from the Pentagon, and the staff told us they felt the blast at the school when the plane hit the Pentagon. Tomorrow is the 10th anniversary.

Abbie didn't come with me on this trip since we would have had to pay for her ticket...she didn't like the idea of my traveling this close to the 11th...but all went well, except for the extremely close connection at Newark, which meant my suitcase didn't make it here with me. There's always tomorrow, which is hopefully when the airline will deliver my suitcase to the hotel.

"Maybe" I'll post more this week and include some pictures from our trip. I promise. (Does promising to "maybe" do something count as a promise, or not?)

They have a name for it

In the previous post, I failed to mention one of the significant bits of news of the last month or so. Towards the end of last year, I sensed that something had changed with my eyesight. I suspected I needed to change my glasses, which I had had for over a year, but the ophthalmologist said my prescription was still good. So why don't I see well?

I mentioned to him about a "floater" in my right eye that appeared about that time, one large enough that when it stops right in my line of vision, I have difficulty focusing and it casts a shadow over what I'm trying to see. Nothing to be done about that, he said, "you'll just have to learn to live with it."

But after noting continued difficulty in seeing, especially one afternoon when I was driving in Italy, I decided to go back to the eye doctor. In the meantime I discovered that with or without glasses, there was no way I could focus clearly with my left eye and read normal-size text on the computer screen or in the Bible. This time the doctor did another type of test and explained my problem: macular pucker. When I look at a grid with my left eye, a checker board, for example, the lines are distorted. If I use only my left eye, lines of text look like they're floating on the waves of the sea. In extreme cases there is a solution: the macula, a film covering the retina, is removed from the back of the eye. Sooner or later I will have to have that operation, he says.

Like the floater in the right eye, there's no explanation why it happens; there's nothing to do to prevent it; nothing to do to keep it from getting worse, or to make it better. It just is. I don't see any better after going to the doctor about my condition, but I can take some sort of consolation in knowing they have a name for it.

I thought of a memorial service I attended the week after the 9/11 attack in the US. As consular agent, I was invited to the Cathedral, where the Catholic bishop, Anglican priest, Lutheran lay leader, and Presbyterian pastor spoke of the horror that had just taken place, giving their explanations for why such things happen, and what needs to be done to keep them from happening in the future.
The key words were "social injustice", "developed world vs. underdeveloped countries", "north vs. south", "unequal distribution of wealth", etc., etc. Like my trying to deal with an obvious problem with my eyesight, they were wrestling with the obvious problem of terrorism, but they never got around to describing the root cause of the problem by using the correct word. Just as the doctor told me the name of my problem, the Bible has a name for the condition the world is in...the one word none of the four religious leaders uttered that night: sin. Yes, the Bible has a name for it. And it has a solution, too! That's the good news.

May? Really?

Well, the last post was almost June, and this is still July, so from that perspective, it's like I only skipped a month. But it feels like it was two months, or four, maybe. There were times I didn't know which way to turn, but there always seemed to be several people giving me directions, or asking for directions, at the same time.

What went on? In May we went to Naples for about a week. There was a consular conference there, and we stayed over a couple of extra days to see some sights around Naples. The memorable sights of Naples were the mounds of trash four and five feet high at almost every street corner and the chaotic traffic. You know those pictures of food on packaging that are labelled "Serving Suggestion"? That's the impression we got of the traffic signs, lane markings and stop lights in Naples: they were more of a "Driving Suggestion" than performing any actual regulatory purpose.

We saw Pompeii, went to the Isle of Capri, and drove along the Amalfi coast. We got a lot of pictures, but have had no time to work with any of them.

June was when the pressure really started...church activities and planning; consular responsibilities and planning; translation work as heavy as ever. We geared up for the 4th of July, with the presence of the Consul-General here for 5 days, plus other visitors from the embassy. About the same time, Pastor Paulo Pascoal and his family came to stay 3 weeks in our apartment; they left a week ago, but another pastor and his family have come to stay almost 2 weeks; Roman, a brother from Russia, is also here until August 1; and we had a visit from Alejandro, a brother who lives in the Dominican Republic and whose father was from Santa Cruz, the village we live in. Somewhere along in that period, we had a death in the church.

Antonio Luis Alves was married to Lourdes, the sister who was healed of what would have been a fatal cancer back about 20 years ago. She had 3 to 6 months to live as the tumor approached her spinal column. For many years they have lived over on Porto Santo Island, and Antonio seemingly lost all interest in the Bible and his relationship with God and the church. Lourdes prayed that, even though their marriage relationship had deteriorated, somehow Antonio would come back to the Lord. After a serious heart attack earlier in the year and several weeks spent here on Madeira, Antonio went back to Porto Santo and back to his old self. Then, a second attack; a second emergency airlift to the hospital here. I visited him twice in the hospital and this time his Bible was always at his side. On Sunday, the day before he died, he sent a text message with a prayer for the church, and thanking God for His grace. When he went for CAT scan the next morning, the only thing he took with him to the other hospital where he was to have the test was his Bible. In the last conversation he had with Lourdes by phone that day, he said he had been reading from the Bible but he was very tired and would try to get back in bed.

There were many family members present at the funeral, none of whom had ever attended an evangelical service of any kind. Those who are not traditionally Catholic are firmly agnostic or openly atheist. We thank the Lord that Antonio made his peace with the Lord before being called home.

Next up: another trip

We will be spending the month of August in the US. Mom will be celebrating her 95th birthday, and so will we. "We" meaning an assortment of family members of varying degrees of kinship, some of whom are coming rather long distances to be there for the party. We're not only going to be flying all day on Wednesday, but then have to drive 12 or 13 hours the next day to get to Colorado. Making the flight reservations this time was a real challenge, and we ended up with flights to and from the airport near Joy and Mark. As it turns out, Northwest Arkansas Airport has far better connections to Newark Airport than Tulsa. It's not quite like landing in a cow pasture, but that's about the best way to describe it. It'll do just fine, thank you.

Japan and Joplin: What's the difference?

More than one news reporter on CNN covering the damage in Joplin, Missouri, caused by the tornado commented they had covered the destruction in Japan caused by the earthquake and tsunami, and the scenes were eerily similar. Every building in sight leveled to the ground, no semblance of streets or stores. Even the sight of cars damaged and piled in every conceivable position in Joplin reminded us of the images we saw of Japan. So what's the difference? Destruction is destruction; death is death; grief is grief. But there was a big difference: we have been to Joplin and we know the town.

Of course, news of horrible events is common in the papers and on TV. Just yesterday, there was a story in the newspapers telling about a brutal murder on Sunday evening in Santa Cruz, the little village where we bought a house and have lived since coming to Madeira in 1976. Murders are not all that common on the island; the paper didn't give all the details, but it sounded like a story for those papers that like to exploit the gory side of crime. A 43-year old man was bludgeoned to death so badly he was practically unrecognizable. The police immediately arrested three men who are known by the locals as being a bad lot, one of them with the nickname "Americano" because he had immigrated to the US, but did time there for drugs and was deported. He and his friends had a bad reputation for violence and were known for involvement in drugs.

At church tonight, one of our members who lives here in Santa Cruz told us that the man murdered was our neighbor, Richard. The same age as our daughter Rachel, Richard was at our house many times back in the 80's. He had moved here from England to live with his grandmother and he always spoke to us in English. He came to the services once in a while back in the days we had a meeting place in the village.

Our paths separated for a while, but in recent years, especially after his grandmother died, we started seeing Richard more. But he was a physical and emotional wreck. He had allowed himself to get involved with drugs; he was in such poor state of health he could hardly walk. We invited him to come to church with us...we would take him to town if he called. He never called.

Abbie goes walking for 30-45 minutes every day, and recently she had seen him several days in a row, walking along the street. She encouraged him to keep it up, and always reminded him we pray for him to get better and hoped he would come to church. She felt a special closeness to him...his age, his contacts with us over the years.

The last time she saw him, Richard told Abbie he was going to England--"his cousin had invited him to visit." Abbie was glad and told him she thought it would do him good to get out. He was concerned about being able to even get up the steps to the plane, but she encouraged him to make the effort.

According to reports, he was given money to go to England to buy drugs, but when he got back, he had neither. Richard was a likable person, a gentle, soft-spoken guy. His "friends" were not so forgiving. It is better not to even speak of how violently they expressed their reaction to being cheated of their money and their drugs. War criminals go on trial for lesser atrocities.

Japan's destruction is horrific, but we have been to Joplin. Every day the news is full of accounts of people who are horribly tortured and murdered, but we knew Richard. That's the difference.

A Good Friday Story

Actually this happened yesterday -- "Good Thursday"(?) -- as told by Paz, one of our church members. Not only do all the stores, banks and offices close on Good Friday, an official holiday, but in general, everything shuts down by 1 p.m. on Thursday. Paz works in one of the major department stores in downtown Funchal, and yesterday morning a regular customer came in the shop. Normally, the lady wears bright colors, but she was dressed in black.

"Why are you in black?" Paz asked.

"Because of the death of Our Lord," the lady replied. "Jesus will die tomorrow."

"How many times do you think He dies?" Paz replied. "He died once for all, and rose from the dead and has been in heaven alive ever since!"

The customer almost went into shock at the sacrilege of suggesting that Jesus doesn't die every Good Friday and come back from the dead every Easter. She was scandalized at the thought. That's why she, like all the other pious women, wear mourning clothes; and every year at one of the parishes, there's a burial procession that takes the "body of the dead Savior" with the image of the Virgin close behind with a dagger sticking out of her left breast.

One year we even scheduled a service on Good Friday, with music...we later learned this was a scandal to some. For many followers of this tradition, I guess they have to get through a couple of days every year without a living Savior...for them Jesus is dead until Sunday morning. But for those of us like Paz, once Jesus has come into our hearts by faith, we know He's alive at every moment and never leaves us nor forsakes us.

Sunday, we will be presenting an Easter musical, "Victory", in English (in the morning service) and Portuguese (in the afternoon service). And all because He died once for all, to sanctify us forever! That is victory!

Add another country

Continuing the thought from the previous post, meet last Sunday's visitor, Thor Martin Edwardson...he's from Norway, as his name would indicate. Except that in reality he's Polish and Thor isn't the name he was born with. He and his wife are Baptists from Poland who moved to Norway 5 years ago. I think the name change had to do with finding a way to keep from having to always explain to people how to pronounce his Polish name.

We've had visitors from Norway in our services from time to time, but as far as I remember this is our first visitor from Poland. Thor's wife stayed with their baby, who was not feeling well, and due to a quirk in the automatic cash machines, they couldn't get cash on their bank card, so they were somewhat limited in their cash-based activities (taxis, for example). We had a good time of fellowship with Thor, who is active in a Baptist church near Oslo.

You've all heard of the North Pole. Well, we've had the blessing of meeting one.