More than we could ask...

One of the recurring motifs of life in Lesotho has been housing moves. Just the thought of it makes me cringe. We were really blessed to be able to house sit for an Mission Aviation Fellowship family for eight months and then to end up living in that same house for another four months. Unfortunately, once again, that house was needed for arriving missionaries and our hunt began again.

This time, out of desperation, I decided to put a small add in our local Internet news line since all other leads were running thin. A couple of days later we got a call from a lady who had a friend who’d seen our ad. She had advised,”Maybe you should give them a call and try renting your house on your own” since she’d had bad experiences with the rental agency and past renters. A few days later we went to have a look. When I first walked into this house I just thought, “Wha…” and then my next thought was … “immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine…” (Ephesians 3:20). That’s just what kept running through my head as I walked from room to room and just chuckled to myself.

This is a pretty overwhelmingly ‘glitzy’ kind of house and while my first thoughts were in the WOW category, my next thoughts, upon reflection were…

- This is too much. How will I feel comfortable in this?
- This is too pink! Whew! Pink? And apricot!
- What will we do with all of our furniture (since our landlady wanted to rent the house furnished so she wouldn’t have the cost of storage)?




Surprisingly, we really did deliberate over this for a few days, but then decided we’d be crazy not to… We made arrangements for our furniture and…

Now, we’ve moved in. I’ve moved around things enough so that it feels homey for me. We’ve adjusted quite easily, and already it’s proven a great house for company with having my sister, bro-in-law and niece over for Christmas holidays.

I’m just feeling so thankful to the lovely Masotho lady I refer to as ‘our patron saint’ ;-) and to God for this, another marvelous provision.

OUR SNAZZY MASTER BEDROOM BATHROOM -- A 'SWIMMING POOL' BATHTUB





OUR KING SIZED MASTER BEDROOM (WE HAVE TWO OTHER BEDROOMS ;-)


AH, MY FAVORITE ROOM -- THE KITCHEN IS SO, SO NICE!


MY GOOD FRIEND AND PAST STUDENT BK AND I CHRISTMAS BAKING IN THE KITCHEN


Malachi 3:10 states, “’Test me in this,’ says the LORD Almighty, ‘and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it.’”

Just to put things a bit in perspective... (Maybe I'll send a few more of these pics later...)

OUR NEIGHBORHOOD ;-)

Mamokete

I have become inured to the pain an orphan must feel at being alone. I work with orphans almost daily. Yes, I see the struggles they face, life is not easy, but they seem to survive. Some have relatives, others neighbors, to ease the hunger and loneliness. Recently I was reminded of my callousness.

Mamokete is a young girl, 16 years old, with no parents, no family – at least none interested in her well-being. She lives at an Anglican Mission in a little village, some distance out of Maseru. She has not been past primary school. She had no one to pay her school fees nor to help her apply for the bursary available to orphans. So she taught herself to weave with grass and earns some income selling Basotho hats and other things she has created.

Attached to the Anglican Mission is a school. It is the school that our friend, ‘M’e Malibuseng, has spent the last year doing her teaching practicum. ‘M’e Malibuseng, one of the Mustard Seed board members, is a gentle and compassionate soul. To those in need around her, she reaches out with warmth and comfort. Her practicum placement is over, and yesterday, I was out to pick her up and bring her and her things back to Maseru. Mamokete was there to say goodbye.

Mamokete kept herself busy helping to load things into the vehicle and then with other mundane things. I thought nothing of it until it was time to wave good bye and I realized she was struggling with emotion. As we began to pull away, she could contain her sorrow and sadness no longer. Tears gave way to sobs, and then to wails as she collapsed to the ground. Someone who had taken the time to love her, to support her, and to encourage her was leaving, and she could not contain her anquish and loss and the loneliness of being without a family who cares. We stopped and ‘M’e Malibuseng returned to console and comfort a 16 year old girl facing her world alone, ... well not quite alone.

Through ‘M’e Malibuseng's efforts, Mamokete has become one of the girls the Mustard Seed will support. It will mean another distant village to travel to, but how can we turn away. It was Ausi Moselentja who recently reminded me of why we cannot turn away from those that God specifically brings across our paths.

Ausi Moselentja was over one day recently, and with Wendy, we sat under the cool of the grape arbour and visited. Ausi, with her broad smile, was talkative and she shared a bit of her journey of the past year. She told us of the year before she became a part of Mustard Seed. No food, no safe and dry home, no hope. At the age of sixteen she was plagued with the worries of how to care for and feed her three younger siblings. Should she try to work as a domestic somewhere? Anywhere? She had fretted about where and how one even begins to look for work. She told how in her despair she escaped her fears and desperation by immersing herself in television. Certain friends and neighbors had television, and there she would spend her time, in mindless entertainment. Her school work left undone, she failed her year.

Today she has a different challenge. Those same friends and neighbors now harass her for not spending time with them watching television. “Who does she think she is now?” they ask her. “Does she think she is better them them or something?” Moselentja doesn't think she is better. Rather, now she spends her evenings at home working on her school work and caring for her siblings. She has hope and a dream. She envisions being a teacher. What made the difference? The folks from a little organization who told her she mattered by being there, by providing a few dollars a month to cover basic food needs, and by helping her with a little house of her own.

It is with a humble and grateful heart I say thank-you to those who have supported the work of the Mustard Seed in little and bigger ways. They have enabled us to make a difference - in the life of Moselentja and in the days ahead, in the life of Mamokete. Mamokete and Moselentha remind me that I am right where I am supposed to be, and I am grateful to each of you who have chosen to be a part of what I am involved with. Thank-you.

~ Benno ~

It will be missed ...

We are in the midst of moving again. Our time in our current house has come to an end, and we are moving on to another place. The house that had been home for the past year has left us with many, many wonderful memories. The house was near to down town and very accessible, and it provided a never ending string of visitors.

Together with them we enjoyed the house and the yard.

It was a place of fun and many memories.

No house was truly home unless Wendy had had a batch of her students over for a meal.

And no such meal was truly complete until Wendy had had her guys in the kitchen helping with the dishs.

Spring time peach blossoms. We will miss the peach harvest this year. We almost missed the apricot harvest. One young woman was enjoying green apricots and we had to shoo her away from the tree so that we could enjoy some ripened fruit.

The swings always drew attention, and action. The garden behind provided lots of work, but also fresh veggies.

The grape arbour was a cool place to sit and relax, out of the sun,

and in season, the grapes were great.

Wendy often thought the yard was too big to manage, but these guys were enjoying the space and an opportunity to kick about a ball.

The yard also provided a great place for a braii (barbecue) ...

... and for water fights ...

... which the dogs unwittingly got in on from time to time.

Night time shenanigans.

There were those who would just 'drop in', but

who never hesitated at an offer for something to eat.

But in return, they offered to wash the car, now and then, ...

... if you call this washing the car.

Most of all, I think they dropped in just to say hello and to share their lives with ours. We have been so blessed.

So while we will miss very much our past home, I just need to believe that as we move to a new place, there too, God has a purpose and plan for us.

~ Benno ~

Aversion Therapy

There was a time when I was accused of practising hiking aversion therapy on family and friends. Someone would ask to go hiking with (Uncle) Benno and I would pick out some enjoyable, little, hike. 'Enjoyable' and 'little' however, being very subjective. Unfortunately, my enthusiasm often resulted in less than enthusiastic interest in doing any more hikes, at least not with Uncle Benno. Now Wendy has taken on the practice; only she sets them up on the first hike.

Wendy has a group of students that have formed a hiking club - a way to work off their activity hours, a requirement for their IB diploma. She took a small group of them on a delightful little hike up a mountain here in Maseru. They had a wonderful time. It took six hours going as slow or as fast as the students wanted, and sprinkling in long relaxing breaks. Wendy and her hike must have gotten rave reviews as the interest in the next hike was off the chart with way more students interested than she could possibly take. If only they had known where she was taking them! Or, maybe she was just wanting to thin future ranks.

Wendy's crew, 28 students, and our goal,

... the peak left of center.

She picked Thaba Machache. A difficult eight to nine hour climb with significant elevation gain. I was along for technical support (technical support that was lacking as it turned out). We hit the trail at 8:00 a.m. The first ninety minutes or so we followed trails over pleasantly rolling terrain, past numerous little rural villages. Then the trail started up, ... and up, ... and up, over a rock and boulder strewn trail. The rest breaks began to almost equal the hiking time, including an extended break assisting one girl with leg cramps. Undetered, we continued on.

Weary walker, "Aren't we there yet?"

After the boulder strewn climbing there followed a short easy stretch. Then, it was onto a narrow little path, and up, up, up again. This was where the technical support became confused. At a critical saddle he led right, when the summit was left. It was disappointing to have not reached the real summit, after all the effort expended. However, in hindsight we may not have gotten everyone down if we had tackled the real summit. As it was, it was getting past 2:00 p.m. when we reached the top of a lower summit, and a few of the hikers didn't make it that far.

The summit we reached was the third bump in the distance.

Tired, ... with sore feet, at the top.

The trip out was the usual struggle to keep those "still going strong" connected with those "tired and weary". Pretty soon we were strung out with more than two kilometers between the front runners and the stragglers. Wendy tried to find a middle position and I brought up the rear. I had a number of very weary walkers with me. What had been an enjoyable stroll in, over rolling terrain and past quaint villages, seemed an interminal trudge out. One student started experiencing severe leg cramps and another simply ran out of blood sugar. Luckily someone still had most of a chocolate bar and by coaxing them to get some sugar into their systems and to drink the last of their water we were able to continue.

It was 6:30 p.m., and the sun had set, when we finally straggled out to the where the others were waiting. While some in my group were vowing never to go hiking with Mrs. Fath again, some of the earlier arrivers had found their second wind and were dancing to the beat of music blaring from one of the taxis.

Line dancing after almost ten hours on the trail.

Along on this trip was a guest hiker - an intrepid, 69 year old world trekker, whose trekking has included routes in the Himalayas and the Andes, as well as the Kokoda Trail in Papua New Guinea. His comment on Wendy's little hike, "I have never been so knackered at the end of a day."

I told Wendy she owes it to her squad to take them on a gentle and enjoyable trip. They have earned something less daunting, and more enjoyable.

Resilience. Three weeks later there were students asking,

"When is the next hike, Mrs. Fath?"

~ Benno ~

"Doing my Duty" - Reflections

"Doing My Duty" was a difficult blog entry to write. Today some random thoughts and reflections subsequent to writing it.

Some days after writing, I was still arguing with God and a piece by Elizabeth Elliot. She wrote that while to some "it is a very bad thing to question God. ... [it] depends ... on whether it is an honest search, in faith, for his meaning, or whether it is a challenge of unbelief and rebellion."1 Humph, I thought, God is able to deal with even my moments struggling with unbelief and questioning. Somehow though, my contemplation of her statement led to a feeling of conviction - I need to live out in my life what I was accusing God of not doing.

I was accusing God of being distant and remote, not near and supportive, as I struggled with failure and disappointments. But where had I been when the Mustard Seed girls were struggling? I was discouraged and had distanced myself. I wallowed in self pity and was neither near nor supportive of them.

Job ... I thought. I would check out Job. He had been through a lot. He questioned God. What I learned about Job was that, when confronted by God, Job responded, "I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted. ... Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know."2 God's plans, his intentions, in his timing, are too wonderful for me to grasp.

Later, I was reading a bit of the Stephen Lungu story. In 1962 Stephen was an angry, violent, young black man in a township near Harare in what was then Rhodesia. On 14 May 1962, with members of his gang, he had entered a missionary tent meeting armed with petrol bombs, bent on destruction and mayhem. While his gang members did do their best to create mayhem, Stephen Lungu met God amidst the mayhem and confusion. He left, transformed.

Thirty years later, having preached all over Africa and around the world, Stephen Lungu was called as a last minute, guest speaker at a Methodist Church outside of Durban in South Africa. That evening, as he was relating his story, the church service was disrupted by two little old white ladies. Leaving their seats, they approached the pulpit and pressed an old Bible into Stephen's hands, open to a page where in faded, hard to read ink, were the word's "14 May 1962 - Lord Jesus, will you save one gang leader tonight."3 One of the old women explained, "We were housewives in Durban. But we knew about the Dorothea Mission's meetings in Highfield Township outside of Harare, and so we were praying. We asked God for a gang leader."4 Thirty years later, God had arranged for them to meet with his answer to their short and simple prayer.

In response to this 'reunion', Stephen Lungu wrote, "Each one of us is called to be a witness to Christ, and so each one of us will find ourselves helping in someone else's faith chain. God will use you, in no matter how small or indirect a way. Your prayers, your faithfulness in doing your bit, are all that matters."5

Another day, ... listening to the pastor of our local church. He talked of seeds. We are called to sow. Some seeds produce a harvest within weeks, he noted, and then the harvest is over. Other seeds, and he used the examples of a grape vine and an olive tree, need to planted and tended, a scion grafted on, and then, maybe five, six, seven, years later, the first harvest. But the harvest, like that of those Durban housewives, continues for years, and decades; sometimes even generations.

Yes, there can be, there will be, discouragements and disappointments, but I need to hang on to Stephen Lungu's words. My prayers, my faithfulness; doing my bit - 'doing my duty' - is all that matters. What God will do with my bit is something I may never know nor understand, something that may be "too wonderful for me to know".

Thank-you to those of you who have been doing your bit, whatever it may be, to help me along my faith walk.

~ Benno ~

1 Elliot, Elizabeth. On Asking God Why. Grande Rapids, MI: Fleming H. Revell, 1989 (pg. 18)

2 Job 42:2,3 (NIV)

3 Lungu, Stephen with Commes, Anne. Out of the Black Shadows. Oxford, UK: Monarch Books. 2001 (pg. 236)

4 Ibid (pg. 236)

5 Ibid (pg. 238)

Canadians

Canadians are wonderful folks, don't you think. I suppose I may be a bit biased, but ...

In September and October we had guests from Canada. It was a delight to share your home and time with them.

In August of 2009, when we were back in Canada, we met a couple from the Vancouver area. At the time we met, their hopes to adopt a Mosotho baby had just been dashed. They had been matched with a baby but then things happened here, and it just did not work out. However, they did not give up, and when in Lesotho in September of this year it was to be united with their children, a brother and sister. I think their wait has been worthwhile, the brother and sister are a most delightful pair.

Delightful you say? ... her? Humph!

The folks, Garry and Tracy, along with an older son (Tyler), were staying in a guest house in Lesotho.

Garry and Tracy, and their children.

But a guest house, even a nice once is still only a step up from a motel, and we tried to have them over often to give the children a place to run, and them a place to hopefully relax a bit. (Maybe Tracy would not say "relaxed" when she thinks of the day we dragged her and Tyler and the two little ones up a mountain.) The days were hot, and the water hose helped the children cool off. They had a sandbox to dig in; Tsepiso, the boy, did his best watering the garden and helping light the braii (charcoal barbecue); and he and Reitumetse, the sister, knew exactly where our toy box was and what was in it.

...delightful??? You bet I am!

What contributed to the "wonderful" designation was how the family made themselves at home. After a meal, Tracy would be up and in the sink washing the dishes. She never asked, she just quietyl made our home, her home. We did not have to entertain. Wendy and I could just 'be' and that made for wonderful times together.

Then a few weeks later we had guests over from our home church in Canada. No busy little ones this time, but we had G-POP . Check him out on U-Tube. It was a busy week, sharing with them our lives in Lesotho, and introducing them to our friends here. Again, what contributed to making their visit wonderful was that they quietly made themselves at home. Both Wendy and I tended to be busy or away in the mornings. No problem! George figured out the coffee maker right quick, it didn't take Esther long to sort out what was where in the kitchen, and Anton found his role in the sink washing up. They had their own little routine for breakfast and even when I was home, I just stayed out of the way.

When they weren't fending for themselves we enjoyed good fellowship together as we traveled about, shared meals together, and chatted and talked about life and things and the God we serve.

Nkono (grandmother) was very excited to have

guests from Canada visit her home.

Memories of Lesotho.

Both visits have left me with a warm and comforable feeling. Some might say it is just latent desires to return home to Canada, or that there is something special in connecting with compatriots, and they may be right to a point, but I also say that Canadians know how to make themselves comfortably at home, away from home, ... at least these Canadians did and that made our time with them that much more relaxing and enjoyable.

Yeah, Canadians.

Cameras always draw excited attention.

~ Benno ~

Ho Haha - Reprise

Here is a further update on Ausi Moselentja's house and family.

I was out to the home on Friday to pick up the last of the tools the Machabeng volunteers had used when they created the garden plots. I picked up a few packets of garden seeds to take along.

When I arrived at the house, Ausi Moselentja's younger brother, Lehlohonolo, was forlornly wandering about the yard with a hoe hacking at weeds and grass here and there. The garden plots were ready, we had had a nice rain, and he was ready and wanting to get to planting their garden. But there were no seeds. Moselentja related how he had been asking when they might get some seeds. I spent M70, (about $11 Cdn) on the seeds. A paltry sum by Canadian standards, but an amount which would have been out of the reach of Ausi Moselentja. Anyways, when I arrived with the seeds it was almost like Christmas.

As he brought each seed packet from the shopping bag, Lehlohonolo would whoop with delight and show it to Moselentja, just like a child at Christmas might show another the gift he had just unwrapped. Then he was off and back in a few moments with a knotted piece of string and a couple of sticks with which he staked out a straight line and he was planting his seeds. I got to enjoy seeing his broad smile as I helped him with planting the corn/maize, then he was onto the pumpkin and beet-root while I was loading the vehicle.

Meanwhile Moselentja was busy waxing the floor and the steps to her house. She has also been busy adding some other touches, making her tiny house a home. What a pleasure it has been for me to be part of this project and witness the delighted smiles on the faces of Ausi Moselentja and her siblings. So little, really, has brought so much hope and delight to this little family.

~ Benno ~