I first met Jan last year in an adult education class. In the months that followed, I passed her work-place often en route to do email. I occasionally stopped to talk to her. I also gave her a few small booklets.

One day she invited me to her home to meet her parents. Her home is right across from her workplace. After doing my e-mail, I spent over an hour with Jan and her family. We talked about all kinds of stuff including church and God. They are Catholic, but I could tell that they were interested. I started praying for them regularly.

When I visited them again a couple of week later, Jan’s father said that his 17-year-old son, Charles, wanted to talk to me about our church. He had read the little booklets and was interested. With his father’s consent, Charles decided that he would visit our church the next Sabbath.

His father and mother couldn’t come to church because his mother was sick. They had already visited the hospital and she had been treated for malaria. That next Sabbath, Uli and I went over to pick up Charles. We found his mother still sick in bed and shaking with fever. We had a quick prayer for her and then left for church. On the way home from church, Charles invited us to come over again on Sunday to chat.

When I went over on Sunday I found Charles’ mother lying on the floor. She looked worse. Her husband was sitting beside her. I asked how she was doing and he said she was having convulsions. A few minutes later, they started again. I watched as the family tried to keep her breathing and end the convulsions. I was scared she was going to die in front of me. As soon as the convulsions passed, I said, “You need to get her to the hospital now.

Her husband went to find out if the nurse who had treated her before was around since not much happens in hospitals on Sundays. I watched her irregular breathing and mentally reviewed the steps for CPR. But she soon started to breathe regularly again. Considering her stiff neck and fever, I wondered if she had meningitis.

Her husband came back and said the nurse was there, but he didn’t have a way to transport his wife to the hospital. I ran home, got my bike, and rode as fast as possible to St. Clairs’ house to get the truck. They live at the top of a hill so the bike ride wasn’t easy. There was also a strong dusty wind blowing down the hill. Gasp!I finally got the truck and drove the lady and some of her family to the hospital. The nurse checked her and, sure enough, she could hardly turn her head 45 degrees. He gave her a shot for the convulsions but couldn’t do anything else because the labs were closed for the weekend. Charles and I went back to get water and some bowls (there’s no water at this hospital this time of year). In the morning, they were going to move her to another hospital for more tests, including meningitis.

When I visited her on Monday afternoon, they had not done the tests. They had just started treating her for cerebral malaria which can have these symptoms. Jan and Charles were staying with their mother because there weren’t enough nurses.

On Wednesday, she was looking much worse. Thursday, I passed by the house again to do e-mail and stopped to talk with Jan. She said, “Suzy, Momma’s dead.” My heart dropped. What do you say to five children who just lost their mother? That just isn’t supposed to happen. I said I’d be back and went to do e-mail.

By the time I got back, their father was there. What do you say to a husband who has just lost his wife? You don’t say, “Bonjour!” I didn’t say anything. I don’t know what you say in French for condolences. I spent about an hour and a half talking with the children. Their mother’s death hadn’t become real to them yet. I went home completely drained.

Uli and I went back the next day to see the father again. We read him the verses in First Thessalonians about the resurrection. He told us that the funeral mass was to be on Monday.

In the morning, we went to view the body. Most people said a prayer for her. We don’t pray for the dead, so we read a few verses from the Bible instead. Later in the afternoon, we went to the mass. At the end of the service, we followed in a procession behind the slow-driving truck with the coffin all the way home to where she was to be buried. There was lots of chanting. At the house they chanted some more and sang some songs in Fon, the language from the south. Finally they put the coffin in the hole and covered it with sticks, tin, and then dirt.

I went back on Thursday to see how the family was doing. I saw that one of the little girls had a nasty wound on her foot. She had just been to the hospital to get it cleaned. I was worried she was going to get tetanus.

The next time I went was to check on the foot, I learned that Charles was sick with malaria. Jan and I went to see him and I met the rest of the extended family. The little girl’s foot was infected but manageable. We cleaned it up and wrapped it well to keep dirt out. It isn’t easy to keep wounds clean here especially on the bottom of feet. People usually wear only flip-flops or go barefoot. The last time I dressed the wound, the infection was basically gone.

I ask you to please pray for this family that they will come to understand the truths of the Bible as they learn to live without their mother and wife. Pray that God will protect them from the attacks of the devil who is not happy about their search for truth.

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