I am back in Atlanta, Georgia and wanted to post one more blog on the topic of this funeral while it is fresh in my mind and in my heart.

As the burial came to a close and the final prayer was prayed there was a moment of silence.  It was pitch black except for the starry sky, but I could see young Vumeli sitting right next to the grave (she is the one in the photo looking at the camera).  Vumeli, age 12, was almost like a mother to her younger brothers and sisters.  Sarah used to go off for days and leave them alone.  That habit is diminishing as hope is being restored.  Vumeli was left to try to find food for them, cook for them and comfort them… all 5 who were younger than her.

The final prayer was prayed and then out of nowhere a small voice started to sing a song in English – it was Vumeli, sitting beside the grave.  She sang, “You deserve the glory and the honor as I lift my hands in worship and I bless your Holy name, for you are great, you do miracles so great, there is no one else like you, there is no one else like you, for you are great, you do miracles so great, there is no one else like you… no one else like you.”  She repeated the verses over and over, her voice getting stronger each time and by the third repetition Sarah was singing with her.  I have no idea where she learned it as she speaks very little english, but both of them sang it in perfect english and it was a most beautiful moment and a most beautiful ending to a day of peace.

As we went back to the homestead for dinner Sarah spoke to anyone who would listen and told them that there was no way that she could have survived this loss of a child it it hadn’t been for Jesus being with her.  She had decided in the days after Gcinile’s death that Jesus was her Lord and Savior and clung to Him through the pain and sorrow.  I believe that this was one of the reasons why there was unexplainable peace and love surrounding us all that day.

Sarah and the children are very anxious and excited to get back to Canaan and settle in to their new home.  Sarah will start work on Project Canaan next week, the children will head back to school and a new day begins.  Please join me continued prayers for this family as they move in to a new season with it’s own challenges, but with a new hope that they has never had before.  A hope in a Savior who loves them unconditionally and who is with them even in the darkest days.

I don’t think I really knew what God’s love looked like until this past weekend.  I understood it in my head, but my heart didn’t really “get it”.  Now I have seen and heard and bear witness to the true power of love.  Thanks for reading.

Cultures and traditions change from family to family, city to city, tribe to tribe, people group to people group and country to country. May 10th I experienced a part of Swazi culture that was simply “not okay with me”.   It was pitch black with only a magnificent host of stars to light the sky.  The grave had been dug and there were tall candles in each corner of the grave to light it for the grave digger to dig.  It was an eerie sight at best.  Near the end of the burial ceremony my heart started to race when I saw the twin brother of Gcinile being pulled from Sarah who was sitting on the ground beside the coffin.  I had heard a rumor of something that happened when a twin died, but Jabulani assured me that it was not true.  When the child started to scream my fears were confirmed. When a twin dies in Swazi culture the living twin is handed down in to the open grave and made to lay on a mat, signifying that they will be there as the “other half” one day.  Imagine being 5 years old, you know your twin has gone somewhere, everyone is sad, it’s dark there is a big hole with candles and suddenly you are being wrenched from your mom’s arms and handed down to a person you know and forced to lie on a grass mat.

Gcina, the twin boy, FREAKED OUT (no kidding!).  Several of us immediately started praying for the child and that he would not remember this at all and would have peace.  I think he was only in there for a few seconds, but it seem like hours.  Finally he was rescued and given back to his mother.

Later, as the grave was being filled I had the joy of holding that little boy in my arms. He clung tightly and watch the men put shovel after shovel of dirt on the very spot he had been put in and pulled from.  Quietly he kept asking “Where is Masisis?  Where is Masisi (Where is my sister?)”.  I continued to pray over his life.

Traditionally each grave is covered with stones once it has been filled with dirt, but not this one. This one remains with just soil and pieces of wood (see photo) until the other twin dies.   Then he/she is buried there too and stones are put on top.  The grave is not finished.  We bought a stone cross on the side of the road to adorn this grave and remind people that Jesus is alive, his grave is finished and all glory goes to Him. It was the only grave in the entire family plot that had a cross because there was no money for the family to buy them for the others.  We walked back to the house for a meal with the family and at one point we all looked up and saw more stars in the sky than any of us had ever seen.  It was spectacular.  Psalm 19:1  says, The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.”  We all saw it first hand that night.  Amen.

(Gcinile’s grave)

(Sarah in the background sitting beside Gcinile’s coffin)

Once while I was in Malawi I found myself sitting at the front of a tiny church made completely of mud and animal dung.  It actually was a really cool church.  Because I was the foreign “Azungu” (white chick) I was asked, no, informed, JUST before the sermon was to begin, that I was the one giving the sermon. No matter how much public speaking I have done in my life, I assure you that it is a terrifying moment.

After Gcinile’s coffin was moved in to the family rondavel (meeting room) I sat beside Sarah to comfort her.  Just then Jabulani came over and explained that the pastor had not shown up for the funeral … this CHILD’s funeral. Okay, so…?   Well, you would be the next in line to give the message/sermon to the group.

Ah, no, but thanks Jabulani.  Janine, you must. You are the one that must.  Can you spell UGH in siSwati?  No, me neither.

Well, HE is faithful and as Jabulani said a long opening prayer, buying me 3 minutes to come up with something, the Lord gave me 1 Corinthians 13.   For those of you bible types you are thinking, “oh no Janine, those scriptures are for weddings, not funerals!” … and that is exactly how I opened up my message.  This is not a wedding, it is a funeral and here is what Jesus says about love.

My relationship with the Masuku family is one of true love.  I don’t pity them.  They are not my favorite charity.  They are not my pet project.  They are people, real people who bring ME great joy.  They make me laugh, we love to hang out and chat and yet if I had only sent them money or given all I had so that they could have more, but had not loved them, this would have been a different funeral.  Because of love they now have hope – hope in a Savior whom they didn’t know existed.  When men fail us, He does not.  I know that Sarah knows that now.

At the end of the message other family members spoke, and they too spoke of love – very unusual in that culture. They kept saying that they couldn’t miss or ignore the fact  that Shirley, Paula, Sherri, Mark, Kaleli, Anthony and Carol were there because of love, not duty and not for any other reason.  It was just that obvious.

Love one another as I have loved you. It’s that simple.

When you work or live in Africa you must be flexible at all times.  Early Monday morning we got a call that plans had changed.  There would not be an all night vigil (thankfully!) and the funeral would be at 5 PM.  Jabulani and I were asked  to meet the family members at the mortuary at 3 PM. to pick up Gcinile’s

body and coffin.  When we arrived it was explained that she was not ready yet.  Not ready?  She has been dead for 4 days?  The father explained that the $100 paid for the coffin did not include cleaning the body, and he was sure that Sarah would

want to see Gcinile’s face before burial (quite common).  The problem was that they were asking for an additional $20 to wash the body, and he simply didn’t have the money after buying food for the extended family for 4 days, hiring grave diggers and paying for the coffin.  I asked what the $100 had included and they explained that it was simply moving the body from the hospital to the morgue, then the coffin itself.  I asked if she had been embalmed?

No, she had been in the fridge since Thursday, they explained.

Living in our society where $20 is really not a lot of money to most people I couldn’t reconcile the pain and shame on the face of a father that could not have his 5 year old daughter’s dead body washed for burial because he didn’t have $20.   I opened my wallet, paid the fee and we handed over a little dress for them to put on her when the body was clean.  They said they would be back in 15 minutes with the girl.

Much later we were called in to the mortuary  room to collect the coffin.  We walked in and they removed the lid to the tiny casket so that we could identify her body.  The face of a sleeping angel appeared in front of us.  So tiny, so innocent, so peaceful.  It was her.  We were sure.

None of the Maskuku children have birth certificates so it took some negotiating for us to convince the “authorities” that a child who technically did not exist, had died.  In the eyes of the state, Gcinile had never been alive, therefore could not die (yep, serious).  She is not even on their statistics list.  But today, she was noted in the history books of Swaziland and her existence was recorded, even if just in death.

We wheeled her out to our truck and loaded the coffin in the back where her dad and two Aunties road along on the 90 minute journey to the homestead and graveyard.

It has been a long time since I slept, so I will do so now and write more tomorrow before I fly back home to see my family.  Suffice it to say that today was a day of deep sadness, great joy and peace that passed all understanding. Amen.

Psalm 116 (Message)

I love God because he listened to me, listened as I begged for mercy.
He listened so intently
as I laid out my case before him.
Death stared me in the face,
hell was hard on my heels.
Up against it, I didn’t know which way to turn;
then I called out to God for help:
“Please, God!” I cried out.
“Save my life!”
God is gracious—it is he who makes things right,
our most compassionate God.
God takes the side of the helpless;
when I was at the end of my rope, he saved me.

^7-8 I said to myself, “Relax and rest.
God has showered you with blessings.
Soul, you’ve been rescued from death;
Eye, you’ve been rescued from tears;
And you, Foot, were kept from stumbling.”

^9-11 I’m striding in the presence of God,
alive in the land of the living!
I stayed faithful, though bedeviled,
and despite a ton of bad luck,
Despite giving up on the human race,
saying, “They’re all liars and cheats.”

^12-19 What can I give back to God
for the blessings he’s poured out on me?
I’ll lift high the cup of salvation—a toast to God!
I’ll pray in the name of God;
I’ll complete what I promised God I’d do,
and I’ll do it together with his people.
When they arrive at the gates of death,
God welcomes those who love him.
Oh, God, here I am, your servant,
your faithful servant: set me free for your service!
I’m ready to offer the thanksgiving sacrifice
and pray in the name of God.
I’ll complete what I promised God I’d do,
and I’ll do it in company with his people,
In the place of worship, in God’s house,
in Jerusalem, God’s city.
Hallelujah!

At 7 AM this morning Jabulani Tsebeze, Sherri Gerecke, Mark Hackett and I drove down to Hlatikulu to the Masuku family homestead to pay our respects.  After not sleeping all night I was weepy and somewhat fragile when I stepped out of the car.  What I was met with was not what I had expected. I was met by Jabulani (Gcinile’s father) who came directly up to my broken self and comforted me telling me “Don’t worry Mama, don’t cry”.  How could this man who had just lost a child be comforting me?  After a long pause I turned to look for Sarah and she slowly came towards me.  We both dropped to the ground and cried, and then she stopped me and she too said, “No mama, don’t cry.  It is okay.  She is with Jesus.”

We moved in to the family rondavel and had a time of prayer, singing, sobbing and then sharing our condolences.  After these “formalities” were complete we moved on to the business portion of the funeral planning meeting, working out details of us picking up the body on Monday, helping deliver food, firewood for cooking etc.

The most meaningful comment came from the brother of Gcinile’s father (Jabulani) near the end of this meeting.  He said,  “We are thankful for the love that you have shown this family for so many years. We never seen people like you come  and mourn like this. We don’t see that kind of love in our own country.  We only look after ourselves, we don’t look out for others.  I hope that you will not stop with loving our family, but will spread your love to other Swazi’s in need.”  We were quick to point out that we were not there because we were just good people, but that the scripture tells us that we must love one another.

Today was a day that this family knew that we were Christians not by evangelism or bible thumping, but simply by our love.  We wept together, we laughed together, we prayed together and we loved them.  That is what Jesus is all about.

If you want to contribute to the funeral, please give to: http://www.heartforafrica.org/9sw102.aspx

Everything is different here in Swaziland, death and the celebration of death is no exception. Early Saturday morning Jabulani, Sherri, Mark and I will drive down to pay our respects to Sarah and her family. They have all taken refuge at the family homestead and will stay there through the burial time on Tuesday.  The body will remain at the funeral home until MOnday when it must be picked up with the parents and other elders from the homestead.  No one in the family owns a vehicle so we have the honor (not sure if that is the right word) of meeting this group of mourners at the morgue and driving this precious child to her resting place in the south of Swaziland.  The body will takes its place in the family living room.  The casket will be open for a time and then closed for the vigil. Friends, family, pastors and guests will come to the family home at 9PM and mourn, sing, pray until 3AM when tea is served.  Following that, the mourning and wailing continues until dawn when we walk the tiny coffin to the hole in the ground.  When the service is finished and the grave filled be filled by hand in front of us and then a complete meal is served to all who are in attendance – a feast of sorts with chicken, rice, pap and veggies.  Enough to bankrupt an already financially broke family.

The sad thing is that next week, or tomorrow when another family member dies, it begins all over again. I will try to write each day here to tell the story.  Thanks for joining me on this sad road.