The Life and Times of Louis & Amber - Childbirth 2

First of all, I'd like to apologize for the previous post. Obviously I wasn't in my right mind. Apparently the pain medication I was taking for the delivery was getting to me. Actually, Mama Maggie O'Tool would be proud - neither Amber nor me took pain medication other than the local she received right before the baby came. I guess that spoils the big announcement. Yes, we had a baby boy, officially to be named Drake Thomas O'Tool. He weighed in at 4.17kg's and measured 55cm long. As you can see from the photo, a large portion of that is in the nose. It is the famous O'Tool trademark. I'm really quite pleased about it. Hopefully as he grows it will get flat on the end just like mine. A few months back Meredith actually asked me who bit the end of my nose off.

So, back to more information on the delivery. As common as childbirth is on my side of the family you'd think it would be old hat by now, but every time another one joins the crowd there is a mad rush to hear all the details. I'll spare you most of them, but to satiate the appetite of who long to know, I will fill in a few of the highlights. We went to a checkup on Monday morning and the doctor told us the baby would be there by Wednesday, but just in case, he wanted us to schedule an appointment for Thursday morning. On Thursday morning he told us he was leaving town for the weekend on Friday afternoon, so he wanted us to come in Thursday night so he could monitor Amber. At 9:45pm we left our apartment and headed downstairs to drop Meredith off with Brian & Lois. Halfway down the stairs Amber stops and says "my water just broke" Fortunately, it was just a small leak, so we weren't slipping and sliding the rest of the way down.

We arrived at the hospital around 10:15, and by 11:00 Amber was feeling her first contractions. These were relatively minor (I know, easy for me to say) but they were light enough that she was able to catch a couple hours of sleep. My contractions were also light enough for me to sleep as well. About 4:00am the nurses came to check on Amber and that's when the adventures described in detail in a previous post took place. Serious contractions started around 5:00, and by 6:00 our conversation died down and it was pretty much just me talking to her.I couldn't really tell if I was being more irritating, or if it was helping, but she never told me to knock it off, so I just kept yammering away. At about 6:50 the doctor showed up and did a quick exam, telling us that Amber was 5cm dialated. At 7:15 he came back and checked again, and it was at 9cm. He told us that there would be a baby delivered within half an hour.

Around 7:30 Amber started getting the contractions where she had to push, but they made her wait for a few contractions. Finally, she put her foot down - figuratively of course, because they don't really like you're feet to be down when you're delivering - and she told them she was going to push.It took 4 good contractions with her pushing, but the Drake finally popped his little head out to meet the world. About a week ago I spoke with Maggie on the phone, and she gave me some tips on what to say to help coach Amber through. I figured with the vast experience my mom has with this sort of thing I would follow her advice. On the third contraction, I broke out the patented Maggie coaching techniques, and for whatever reason this made Amber laugh. So I guess it accomplished the objective of taking her mind off the pain. Apparently I need more practice.
Anyway, for those of you who need some brushing up on your metric conversion tables, the measurements are as follows: 9 lbs. 3 oz. and 21.5 inches long. Not the cutest baby in the nursery, but we'll keep him. Hopefully he grows out of it like Meredith did. I was never so lucky.

Through the whole thing Amber was really a champ. The doctors and nurses were impressed with her demeanor. And I found out later that she really did appreciate me talking so much, so that's nice to know. I'm also happy to report that I am recovering nicely. So is Amber.

The Life and Times of Louis & Amber - Childbirth

As many of you know, and the rest soon to find out, Amber has been pregnant for about the past nine months. All things considered, the pregnancy has been quite uneventful, at least relatively speaking. There have been so many other “events” in our lives in the past nine months that it takes a pretty substantial level of eventfulness to really qualify as eventful. But I digress. Amber has been quite a trooper throughout this whole process, with nary a complaint filed, except for the common emphasis upon whom the blame for her current condition lies. Of course, that would be yours truly. But I emphasize that she was more involved with our cross-continental transplant than I was, and since then she has adjusted quite nicely with a positive disposition at almost all times.

Part of that transplant and adjustment related to the medical field. Within the South African medical community there exists a dichotomy. On the one hand, there is the government funded healthcare and hospitals. On the other there is private healthcare for those who can afford it. Without getting into a discussion regarding government sponsored healthcare and the politics that go along with it, suffice it to say that the private industry is quite superior here.The private healthcare tends also to be quite reasonably priced as well. In fact, the full bill for an office visit here is often less than a normal co-pay would be with an American corporate insurance policy. Another time I will share with you the intricacies of the public healthcare system.

We then, as a couple, have gotten to know Dr. Fourie and the pre-natal division here at the local medical clinic. I highly recommend Dr. Fourie’s services, and we couldn’t be more pleased (up to this point) with the care we have received. However, there are a few differences of note between medical customs here, and medical customs on the other side of the Atlantic. One of those is the enema. What a lovely experience these are and I encourage you all to explore this option fully; quite healthy, really. The enema is standard procedure, the modus operendi – or M.O. if you will – whenever an expecting mother is admitted to the medical clinic. Our friend who had a baby here in May was able to strategically avoid this portion of the experience during her labor, as she was too far advanced when she actually arrived at the hospital. Amber was hoping to employ the same scheme in order to bypass this procedure as well.

Afrikaans is the primary language spoken in this area of South Africa. It is a derivative of Dutch, and since coming here we have learned it is almost completely identical to Flemish. As you well know, Flemish is one of the official languages of Belgium. Belgium is a small European country bordering France and they are renowned for their chocolates, diamonds, and Flem; hence the term “Flemish”. And as you would imagine for a language named after throat mucus, when spoken, the speaker often sounds as if they are clearing their throat. It comes out with kind of a “hoch”-ing noise. Anyway, neither Amber nor me speak a lick of Afrikaans (although occasionally when I clear my throat it is mistaken for a term of endearment) and when we first arrived at the hospital on the evening of delivery most of the nurses were not aware of this predicament. Thus they continued to speak Afrikaans almost exclusively.

It was not uncommon for them to carry on entire conversations of which we were left totally in the dark. I was impressed with myself when I deciphered they were talking about Amber’s water breaking. I knew this because she said “whoosh” while simultaneously thrusting her hands down and outward (just imagine how you would mime water breaking). So I didn’t exactly understand Afrikaans, just the sign language that went along with it. Later however, I did pick up a word that is universal in any language. In the midst of string of conversation that sounded roughly like this – “adhalv alieru hoch ahsldk hoch hoch hoch ahsdklf Metamucil ahlka hoch hoch ahslkdj hoch” – Take a close look at that sentence and see if you can find the one word familiar the world over. Let me give you a hint: It’s in the same family as prune juice. That’s right. The word is Metamucil. Here we experienced another dichotomy. While overjoyed by the identification of a single word, there was also the disturbing realization of what exactly that word would mean.

The Life and Times of Louis & Amber - Entry 2

This past week a few interesting things happened here on this side of the ocean. Let me regale you with the tales:

So last week I got a little lazy and decided to skip shaving my entire face, instead leaving a small patch known commonly as a Goatee. Now while I'm no wolf-man, I have since reaching the adolescent stage of life consistently grown more and more facial hair. Not to get into the specifics, but for about 3 years now I need to shave every day or I start to look like a hooligan, what with the patchy growth and all. After two or three days of fighting the Abe Lincoln/Ken Hamm cheek beard or uncomfortable neck beard while neglecting my manly chin and mustache sections, I have a noticeable level of growth on my chin and upper lip. It is at this time I decide to shave it all. This maneuver on my part does not escape the notice of some of the children here. Several of the older girls decided to give me the 5th degree on why I would choose to remove the goatee. One girl goes so far as to say that when I do have the mini-beard it is the same as a pig. I query her on this description and she proceeds to tell me that when you skin a pig, the inside of its skin is about the same as my 3-day growth, and you have to work and work to scrape it off. Huh.

Along the same lines, I must relate to you a story that although it did not take place this last week, must be shared while we're on the vein of follicular growths. I believe it is common knowledge that most people of African descent share the common trait of tight, curly hair. Most of them have little to no hair on their arms or legs. So they think it odd that white people have hairy arms and legs. For example, I was at a house in Thabong recently and there was a young boy about 7 years old or so. He was fascinated by my arms and stayed close to me, petting my arms as one would pet a puppy, rabbit, or other such cuddly creature (which would fit, because if I am anything, it is cute and cuddly). So the children here one day told one of the American team members that white people take dog tablets to make their hair straight and to grow hair on their arms and/or legs. The team member was somewhat taken aback, as you would imagine. It turns out that some African people really do take dog tablets. I'm not sure if the tablets are made of dog, or if they are intended to be given to dogs. I suppose this would be a classic case of six of one, half dozen of the other, as one may not be any more desirable than the other to a western mind. And with the holidays coming up, I thought this would be a good time to mention that if you are looking for a unique gift for that special someone, and if that special someone needs more hair on their arms and legs, I would be more than happy to acquire dog tablets and ship them to you for a minimal fee.

The third event that I must make known to you all relates to the staff here at The Pines. We employ a gardener named Leonard. Leonard lives here on the property with his wife Temperance and daughter. Temperance has been expecting for quite some time now: About 9 months to be exact. So it came as no surprise when, on Sunday morning, her water broke and she needed to go to the medical clinic. Leonard notified Brian & Lois of the new turn of events, and they graciously offered to drive her to the clinic. Leonard declined, as he determined the ambulance was sufficient transportation. The problem is that no one is ever able to find our facility without substantial searching. Because of this, Brian & Lois took Temperance in their vehicle and found the ambulance. I'm not sure if it is a cultural thing or what the reasoning is, but Leonard refused to go the the clinic with Temperance. I can understand this, as for centuries men were not allowed in the birthing room and probably for good reason. No one needs to go through what us fathers go through during the birthing process. It is really quite agonizing. And so Leonard wisely avoided this, and therefore avoided the undue blame and crushed fingers that go along with it. Before we all laud Leonard for his wisdom, I must continue my narrative. Temperance, by all accounts, made it to the hospital and through delivery admirably. She then conversed with Leonard via the telephone, telling him of the birth of their child. When we, the missionaries, spoke with Leonard later that day we asked him how things were going. He told us the baby had arrived. Of course, the logical question that follows relates to the gender of the child. It was at this point we learned Leonard had neglected to ask Temperance the gender of the child. Again, maybe this is a cultural thing. Leonard was later happy to learn that he is now the father of a healthy little boy. And we were happy as well.

The End.

Life and Times of Louis & Amber

Since we've moved to Africa, many people have asked us, nay, even encouraged us to keep a journal. Up until now, I have remained heedless of their advice. It's not that I didn't want to keep a journal, it's just that I've never been all that excited about writing "Dear Diary". I never put it that high on my priority list. Hopefully starting now, I will attempt to make all of you my diary subjects, allowing you firsthand looks into daily life here at The Pines. Unfortunately, many of you may find it's not as glamorous as one might imagine. So, here is the first installment of The Life & Times of Louis & Amber.

So today, Friday, August twenty-second, in the year of our Lord 2008, the duty fell on me to assist the children with homework. Since many of our children came from vulnerable situations, most of them are a few grade levels behind in their studies. Because of that, we attempt to push them to excel and do more homework than required by their teachers. Recently, we had 5 computers donated, the process headed up by one Bruce Hall. These computers have become excellent motivation. Not only are the kids learning valuable computer skills that will help them in the future, but their love for the computers motivates them to work harder and faster on their homework.

We have set specific rules they must follow. One is that each child must read a book at their current level before being allowed to use the computer each day. By so doing, we hope to improve their reading skills, grammar, and vocabulary. We also ask the older children as they read, to take one of the small ones with them. This keeps the small ones busy and out of trouble, and also allows them further exposure to English and its accompanying advantages.

Anyway, all that to say that our 4 oldest girls just this week graduated from Dr. Seuss and other such entralling volumes, to what we call here "Chapter Books". Since I personally know many of you who may read this blog, I will explain: Chapter Books are books that have chapters. Now, while we have many children that have shown an aptitude for learning, I must emphasize again that none of them have won any awards in the classic Pizza Hut Book-It program. Reading for themselves is something relatively new. We don't have to worry about stocking up on Preparation H because our kids are spending too much time reading on the john.

Well, today one of the older girls came to me with a new book. I saw she was reading chapter 1, when she had just started a 10 chapter book on Wednesday. Surprised, I asked her how she finished the first book so quickly. She looked at me like I was stupid and said, "It was only 5 pages". It was then that I realized she didn't know that a book with chapters is actually one long story divided neatly into sections. It took about 5 minutes and a translator to help her understand why exactly she needed to read the whole book from front to back, but I'm happy to report, I think we made progress.

I say this just to give you an example of some of the day-to-day experiences that make this such an enjoyable work. It is a wonderful feeling to be able to see a child learn something for the first time. Just recently, one of our girls-age 14- saw her first automatic hand dryer in a bathroom. Of course, I wasn't there, but to hear the story told, she was flabergasted that you just wave your hands underneath and it turns on by itself. It is also so fulfilling to be able to see firsthand their hunger to learn about God. Our twice-weekly Bible Studies are supposed to last for one hour, but they would sit for three and ask questions. I just can't believe God has called us to a work like this. It seems like it is too much fun to actually be classified as "ministry", but I'm here to tell you there is nothing better in life than living for God.

Signing out,
Louis

Kesentseng

Just about 1 mile down the dirt road from The Pines is a squatter camp known as #7. This camp houses about 250 people in 49 tin shacks. Alcoholism is a large problem affecting the people that live here. While they have no amenities that modern civilization would enjoy, such as running running water, sewer, electricity, or trash services, they do enjoy bi-weekly delivery by the beer truck.
One of our children, Kesetseng (pictured top left) comes from this village. A pair of sisters, Kara & Kathryn Bailey were here on short term missions work. While here, they ministered to this village, and during their visits, they became concerned about the welfare of Kesetseng and her 1 year old sister. The mother was constantly inebriated and was neglecting the two girls.
Typically, all our children come to us through the Social Development Dept., however, the situation became so severe that we had to take the two girls and notify a social worker ourselves.
When we told the social worker, she was surprised that there was anyone living in the #7 area at all. They didn’t even know the village existed.
We have had Kesetseng since March, and we just took her sister in as well. She had been living at a facility that specializes in caring for neglected infants. It is unclear at this point how long we will be allowed to keep the girls. The social worker is supposed to be working with the mother to ensure she is equipped and able to take the girls back, but due to the living conditions and the mother’s alcohol abuse, we are not sure the timeframe involved.
As we continue to attempt to reach this village with the message of God’s love and grace, we try to show them as well. Recently, we had to remove some dead trees from The Pines property. We loaded up the trailer with wood and with our kids and drove back to #7.
After everyone gathered to the center of the village to get the firewood, we used the opportunity to share the Gospel. POG Team 6 was able to do the drama, and afterward I explained the message of eternal life while one of our girls, Rafiloe, interpreted.
Several people said they understood the message, but at times like this, it is difficult to determine sincerity. We have learned the people here have an ability to tell you what you want to hear if they think it’s to their benefit. Pray that God will allow continued follow-up. He sees the heart and knows who believes in Him. Good works won’t earn Heaven, but they are a result of a changed heart that loves Him.

Missionary Story

The following story was related to me by Bob Schultz, a friend of ours who used to be a missionary in France. Apparently, the story in our last update of the outreach at the flea market jolted his memory. He's getting pretty old, so his memory needs to be jolted from time to time. The following is the unedited version of the story as he sent it to me:

"The first time I went to our twice weekly open market in La Garde, France and
the person in charge of collecting the fee for a stand (based on its size) saw me
there, he did not know how much to charge me (I was between the cabbage
vendor and the olive vendor). He said he would check with the (Communist) mayor
and collect from me four days later at the Friday open market. Friday came, as did
the fee collector. He got to my stand (stacked high with a tower of Bibles and an
open Bible for people to pick up and read for themselves) and just walked right
past. I ran to catch up with him and said, "Wait, you didn't collect a fee from me."
He replied that the Mayor had said not to charge me anything. The following
Monday I visited City Hall and asked to speak with the Mayor. I was escorted to
his office and I told him that he had created a real problem for me by not allowing
me to pay a fee for my market stand. He asked how that could possibly be a problem.
I told him that I would have to report back to our supporting churches that part of our
ministry was subsidized by the Communist Party. He laughed until tears ran down his cheeks.
After that, we had a very good relationship and I was able to go door to door once a year
while others (Mormons, Jehovah's Witnesses, etc.) were denied authorization. And, I
never had to pay a fee for my market stand.
There are a few follow ups to that story.
One of them is the Communist mayor told me he read the Bible.
I replied (in French), "Oh, I see."
The mayor said you replied like you don't believe me!
I knew I had put myself in a difficult situation.
So, I honestly said, "I was just accepting what you said as a politician speaking.
I didn't know a Communist mayor would read the Bible."
He replied that he had a Bible in his desk drawer in his office in City Hall and one
on his night table by his bed.
He must have seen the questioning look I had and opened his desk drawer and
took out a Bible!
Years later we left France and came back to the US permanently.
Ten years after our return to the US, Slater Baptist Church sent Liz and me to France
on a three week short term missions trip. While in France, I paid a visit to the
Communist mayor (he was still mayor of that communist town of about 30,000 people).
When I walked into his office, he greeted me and then, with a twinkle in his eye, he
opened his desk drawer and pulled out a Bible!
We prayed for Monsieur le Mayor DelPlace for years and I trust that the seed of the Word
of God was planted in good soil and I hope I see him in heaven!
Sorry to bore you with stories from an old man's past."
-Robert Schultz

Kids Classes

Recently, we started training classes for the older kids here at The Pines. Our long-term goal is to raise these children to be able to effectively contribute to their communityhere and impact this continent with the message of Jesus Christ. Two evenings per week we meet with the kids. One night we cover issues of theology, like where the Bible came from, how we know it's true, who Jesus is, etc... The second evening we read them stories about men and women in the past who have served God.Of course, the issue of heaven and hell comes up frequently in our discussions. Many of the children here understand that Jesus died to take the punishment for our sins, and many have already asked Him to save them. We want to be sure they truly understand, and are not just parroting things they learn from us. of this, I asked them to find me sometime within the next week and tell me their story of how they came to understand that they need Jesus to save them.
I asked this on Thursday night (today is Saturday). So far, three of the older girls have sought me out and told me their stories. One of the girls, Okuhle, wanted to make sure I understood what she was saying, so she decided to write it down. I will copy it word for word, so you all can see what she said: "One day we go to church with us! and Pastor George told us about God and he seys you suppose to be born again so we can go to heaven and then I believe that God, He died on the cross four our sin and I pray to Jesus to live in my heart
but now I believe that God, He died on the cross for our sin in 2007, March 16 day.
Gold is for Heaven
Red is for the Blood of Jesus
White means a pure heart
Black is for our sins

From: Soboyise (her surname)
To: Uncle Loui"

(Photos from top to bottom: Rafiloe, Okuhle, Dieketseng)

Baby O'Tool Photos

The Pines Kids - Girls

Puseletso "Gladys" (poo-seh-let-so)
Birthday: November 11, 2000
Joined The Pines: November 22, 2006











Kesentseng (case-ent-sang)
Birthday: September 1, 2003
Joined The Pines: March 13, 2008











Puseletso "Maria" (poo-seh-let-so)
Birthday: November 19, 2000
Joined The Pines: November 22, 2006











Nontembiso (nohn-tem-bee-so)
Birthday: February 28, 2003
Joined The Pines: February 19, 2007











Refiloe (ruh-feel-away)
Birthday: July 1, 1997
Joined The Pines: November 22, 2006
(Sister of Mpho)










Ntswaki (nts-wok-ee)
Birthday: March 13, 1998
Joined The Pines: February 22, 2007











Motshidisi (Mote-sih-dee-see)
Birthday: December 4, 1993
Joined The Pines: November 22, 2006
(Sister of Dieketseng)










Dieketseng (dee-eck-et-sang)
Birthday: December 14, 1995
Joined The Pines: November 22, 2006
(Sister of Motshidisi)









Okuhle (oo-koo-thlay)
Birthday: April 7, 1994
Joined The Pines: March 27, 2008
(Sister of Cebisile)









Cebisile (ay-bee-see-lay)
Birthday: December 22, 2004
Joined The Pines: March 30, 2007
(Sister of Okuhle)

The Pines Kids - Boys

Itumeleng (i-toom-eh-lang)
Birthday: December 7, 2006
Joined The Pines: January 29, 2008
(Brother of Tankiso & Tshidiso)









Mpho (M-po)
Birthday: September 16, 2000
Joined The Pines: November 22, 2006
(Brother of Rafiloe)










Mokhosi (mock-hose-ee)
Birthday: March 25, 2000
Joined The Pines: July 3, 2007










Tankiso (ton-kees-oh)
Birthday: October 29, 1997
Joined The Pines: January 29, 2008
(Brother of Tshidiso & Itumeleng)









Tshidiso (tsuh-dees-oh)
Birthday: July 19, 2003
Joined The Pines: January 29, 2008
(Brother of Itumeleng & Tankiso)










Pheello (Pee-ay-lo)
Birthday: March 18, 1999
Joined The Pines: July 17, 2007










Lehlohonolo (Leh-cleh-no-lo)
Birthday: October 6, 1996
Joined The Pines: February 12, 2007