... the Mustard Seed is in great need of a chest freezer,
This picture of ants attacking what it left over from the feeding program.
As our ministry grows,so our needs so we can serve God's children here in South Africa. We are, by Gods Grace, running a much needed food program for the village children every afternoon. We prayed for
huge pots, another stove and enough food to feed 60 children everyday. God has answered our plea. For most of these children, this is the only meal they receive all day. We never know who will be sitting down at The Mustard Seeds new tables. In village life here, there are never clear boundaries in these little chaotic lives. Every morning, I cook a huge pot of vegetable stew, and another pot of rice or samp. Sometimes it is not enough. But often, the number drops and only 40 arrive for a meal. This can be due to rain, funerals, chores or sickness. Having no other option,the extra food is left out, in the big pots, for the following day.I am greeted next morning by two large pots filled with crawling ants. This precious food must now be thrown away, much to the village dogs delight. I know a chest deep freeze will solve my problem. Margarine dishes of left over food can be stored safely in a freezer.This has an added advantage as I will have food on standby when a hungry child comes to me, later on in the day, desperate for food. A freezer can store extra bread that I am given for school sandwiches. I understand times are hard and most families struggle to get through each month. But I am turning to you, as it just takes many people giving very little to make this a reality. This is a need to feed His hungry in a sensible and cost effective manner. It is never easy to ask for help, but where His children are concerned I can do it. God Bless
If you feel called to help us get a freezer, you can donate through the PAYPAL button on the side of our blog.
The Mustard Seed
Friday, August 15, 2014
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Tribute to a Little Mustard Seed Angel
I have just lost a portion of my heart. But, I know she was just
lent to me for a while. She always was God's child. She truly belonged to Him.
You could never forget that. Her wide,
ever present smile, even during periods of unending, acute pain and nausea. The
inability to enjoy tasty food due to an ever present case of diabolical
thrush. The look of exhaustion that
would send her into my arms, while her peers scream with laughter. This little
girl represented the suffering of Christ. A victim of this cruel world. Years
ago, this tiny little body had been the object of some grown males perverted
lust. She was given more than counselling
and a teddy bear when she was rescued.
She left the clinic with a diagnosis of being positive with H.I.V. You know the strain from Sub Saharan Africa.
The deadly kind that is seldom successfully treated with anti-retroviral medication. But, Jesus Christ never promised anyone of us
life would be fair. This little girl is
a growing statistic in Africa where the belief that sex with a virgin is the
cure for H.I.V. The mere thought of a
grown man sexually abusing a small, fragile child is horrific. But, in the minds
the uneducated, whose brains have been consistently starved from lack of proper
nurturing and bodies rife with toxins, it appears a very feasible cure.
How do you change a belief such as this? Only the Holy Spirit can
shine His Light into a darkened heart.
Until He does, we are surrounded by mewling, crawling, tiny
victims.
Little One, I will never, ever forget your obsessive love for the
Bambi story. How you loved to put your
emaciated fingers through my hair as you tried to give me dreadlocks. Your
beloved, fluffy dog that now sits in my room to remind myself of what true
suffering is. I miss seeing your
ridiculously tiny clothes and shoes.
Your clinic card said that you were a seven year old failing to Thrive. Now,
you are safe in the very warm, understanding arms of a Christ that sees and
knows all, and you are definitely thriving.
You taught me about bravery, perseverance and love. Until the day I die I will never, ever forget
you. You were a gift from God. You were
born to suffer and die. Things have improved. They had to. You are now living
life in all its abundance and fullness. I know when I cry, it will be because
of the evilness of mankind and the beauty and promise of a new tomorrow. I adore you oh Little One.
Love Momma Julia
Friday, August 8, 2014
Something is vitally needed.....
- The Mustard Seed is in desperate need of a deep chest freezer. This is the fifth morning I have had to get rid of food because ants have tried to devour it. It hurts so much to have to throw it away because we have many hungry Angles. When you offer a feeding program, you often have food left over. It would be so helpful to be able to put the left overs in Tupperware containers and freeze it for the following weeks program. Also, when I get a donation of day old bread, we could then put that in the freezer to save. I am only go shopping once a week because it is such a terrible walk down the mountain. I have no where to store my frozen foods so I am forced to go daily. I am now at the end of my tether. A new chest deep freeze will cost $400 usd.
Would anyone be able to help the Mustard Seed Ministry with the great need?? Helping us get a chest freezer will have a positive impact on the Mustard Seed Ministry and the Angles we feed! A blessing beyond measure for sure. Thank you for your prayerful consideration.
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Jesus teaches me a lesson through a heartbroken 7 year old Boy
"He shall wipe
away every tear"
A promise from sweet Jesus as He ministers to a grieving
7 year old. Another mother gone too soon, leaving behind a thin, tiny little
soul. Heartbreaking yes,but in a village that has the highest amounts of
deaths for adults under 35, this is the norm. I must say though, this particular death has changed who I am.
Sbu
is a hyperactive, not your typical lovable little boy, who roared into The Mustard
Seed Haven each afternoon. My heart would sink as I heard him start fights, destroy toys and throw food all over the floor. Nothing moved his
attitude. Sbu was Sbu. A tiny boy who could never fit in or be at peace. He
could be totally horrible. The type of child that you would smile at with your mouth
but not with your eyes. He lived with a Mom, who tried her best as a single
Mom.
One Saturday I was awoken by frantic knocking on the door. Upon opening
it, I found a frozen,shocked Sbu. Mom was "up,up". Sbu's Mom had passed
away during the night. For a long time she had been suffering badly and I had no
idea. I soon learned that she had been feeling very weak but had continued
working as her boss said if she missed work he would dismiss her. Being a proud
lady, she had asked no one for help. Every morning,come rain or shine, she had
dragged her seriously ill body to work, walking to a job enduring a tyrant for a
boss just so she could earn less than third world wages.
There were no visible
signs of distress in this family. Sbu always dressed well, clean and greased. He seemed hungry but everyone is around here. I was never concerned
about Sbu. He was loved more than most by a Mom who worked religiously for
him. How simplistic we are as Christ followers sometimes.Christ was not like
that.
Taking Sbu's little brown,cold hand we hurried down to his shack. A
terrible scene greeted us. A lady lay still and grey on a thin, threadbare
mattress. Sbu stood stoically at my side and the ambulance lifted another tragic
life onto the stretcher. I looked around a poverty stricken shack that was in
total disarray. Standing on the floor,I observed nine plates covered in
newspaper. I lifted the newspaper and was met by a pile of burnt, oily potato
chips. Each plate consisted of the same, burnt, oily meal. Every afternoon, Sbu
would leave The Mustard Seed Haven and return home to cook his
poor,exhausted,gravely ill mother a plate of chips.This means that a seven year
old boy would sit on a mud floor, cutting up potatoes with a sharp knife and then proceeded to light a Primus Paraffin (highly flamnable stove) and fry his
mothers chips. When his poor mothers body collapsed through the door, she could then
collapse onto a mattress, eat her supper and fall into a blissful,mind numbing
sleep. Sbu would then wash his and her clothing for the next morning. When morning came, they
would present a shiny front to a world that was too busy to give them more than
a hurried,irritated glance. Sbu had been taught it is weak to ask for help. The
Sothos are a proud nation. He had heard me say potatoes cooked with their skin
on are very healthy. So purposefully and with intent, he had watched my cooking
and gone home to a dying mother.
Can you imagine the fear this poor boy (here sitting) must have felt, desperately tired and worried,not able to stay outside with other children because he had a job to do - take care of his mother. Shu is a seven year old who cannot read or
write that we all mistakenly regarded as a tyrant had a job to do. With a self
sacrificing love for his mother and a heart so good,that Jesus must have been smiling down on him, a little boy with rough edges like St Peter, had taught me another
facet of who Christ is. Because I had served Sbu with my emotions and gone only on
outer appearances, I had missed the subtle signs. Sbu and his good mother
have taught me so much.I am determined never to make that mistake again. If I
find myself putting any child in a preconceived box, I immediately remember a
dark room, a thin mattress and nine plates of burnt,oily chips. Oh, to be more
and more like Christ, so little boys never have to struggle on alone.
In the Love of Christ,
Julia
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