In truth, I thought it would be too boring to feed him this cereal for his first solids so I actually gave him carrot cake about fifteen minutes before this…Much more exciting

In Him Who is able to do all things, greetings from South Africa.

On the good side of things, this Holiday season was quite a joy as I found myself surrounded by the smiling faces of fifty children. I’ve never had a Christmas without snow (much less in 90+ degree weather), or had a BBQ and water fight on the day, so this year was definitely a year of new traditions. In South Africa the country basically shuts down from mid Dec. to early Jan. – government offices/buildings, shops, stores, restaurants, hospitals – everybody. This was a very strange thought compared to the typical consumerism that floods America during those times. Of course at the orphanage things never shut down, or stop, or pause, because children just keep on being children no matter the time of year. So the words “Christmas break” seem very foreign to me at the moment. But I did get to take a break from the ordinary routine and make Biscuits and Gravy for all the kids and adults. Only one other person had ever had such a thing, but it was a big hit.

Though the Christmas season passed smoothly, this new year has brought many heartaches with it. Almost two weeks ago now I felt the need to see on of my small babies, Unabella (3 months). It was about 21h30 and when I went in to see her I found her struggling to breathe. She responded to my CPR for about five minutes, but then it was apparent that she was in her last moments on earth. I pronounced her dead at 21h45. I had named her Unabella because she was the most beautiful child I had ever seen. Three days before we had found out that she had a rapid-progressing form of AIDS, I just didn’t know it would be that rapid. I did a small service and viewing for the workers that night and we were able to talk a bit about her condition.

Five days after this sorrow, some of our premature babies started getting a bronchial infection which resulted in me resuscitating three of them and rushing them to hospital. One of those times I didn’t have anyone to take with me to hospital, so I had to keep my hand on his chest, drive until he would stop breathing, get him to breathe, and drive on. This week I have spent over thirty hours in the nearest hospital (which is NOT our hospital of choice) and three days without sleep. During these times I knew I was being sheltered under the wings of my Father, being supplied with the strength that only He can give. By Saturday we knew that we had viral pneumonia going through, and over twenty of our babies have it. My normal routine turned into crisis management as children needed to be put on oxygen, antibiotics, etc… and, being sick, needed twice the amount of holding and love. Sunday morning, though, God granted me sleep, 12 hours of it, and besides the flat tire I got Sunday night, Monday brings a new week, and I pray that it will hold much encouragement.

Thank you for your constant prayers, I would ask for your particular prayers for the health of the children and workers. I have two workers who have come down with the illness, and we pray that no more will go down with it. I am in continual thanks that I remain healthy amidst these times, please pray that my health continues.

In a spirit of rejoicing I look forward to a visit from my mother! God has used the generosity of some dear saints and old friends from home, and they have paid for my mom to come visit me here and see my work. She arrives on the 30th of January and will be here for about 12 days. I look forward to the encouragement that I know she will bring with her, and ask for your prayers that she may have safe travels and a blessed time.

Our God is truly the God of the Universe, still upholding men with His breath of life. He is present in our time of need, and our comfort in times of sorrow. He has given His angels charge over us to guard us in all our ways, and lights the way He would have us walk in. In my Stronghold and the Lifter of my head, peace and joy.

-Nicole de Martimprey

This is my beautiful Lindiwe, the face that lights up mine in the morning when I walk through and she just laughs with joy at the sight of her “mama”.

This is a small part of my family, three of the four who are “my children”. Lindiwe is my beautiful little girl, Trevor is my small 6 month old godson (baptized end of Nov.), and Thulani is my special little buddy.

The sunsets in this country are amazing. The colors mix and morph before your eyes as light to dark the sky becomes. Sometimes it is as though a fire has been lit in heaven, as the warming glow crosses the field, consuming all in its fingertips. Then the softer tones of pink and purple and peach clothe the field and (if your lucky) the room in the soft tones of baby colors.

But today I realized that it’s not the colors of the sky alone that hold my stare. Whenever I look and really see the beauty of the sky, it grasps me because it is the same sky. Everywhere in the world it is the same. And more importantly, it is the same sky that touches my homeland. The same sun that rises and sets here is seen by my mom when she walks in the morning and my dad when he drives home from work. Yes, it is beautiful, but its beauty is enhanced tenfold because it is shared by those I love in the places only the sky can reach.

The things that can become “normal” in this strange world sometimes hit your reality quite hard. Today I sat in Q at Baragwanath Hospital in Soweto, South Africa. Besides the now-very-often occurance of being the only white in the hospitals, today the stares went to a new level.

First, a lady walking through stopped and said that I shouldn’t have a baby “that” colour (the baby I had was of mixed color) and that she would take him. I told her this was my child and she couldn’t have him. I held on tight, fought for him and she eventually went away in an huff.

Then there was a sight that turned my stomach. It takes a lot to do that, but this was more than enough. A man so skin-and-bones that you thought he would break under his own frail weight was waiting in the corridor. Then he shifted himself and I saw an extremity that was gangrene, which is a difficult sight alone. But there was an organic growth coming out the bottom of his stub.

Outside the hospital I saw a man park his combie bus, get out and take off his rims. He proceeded to put them under his seat, leave and return within an half hour. He put back on the rims and took his passengers. Apparently beauty really does come before pain. I wonder how many stops he makes a day….

All in a day’s work.

Stories, that is.

* Last month some of our older children came to me, beckoning me to the kitchen where there was a woman waiting. When I had a chance to break away from the orphanage, I went to find that the older kids had opened the gate for a needy woman who now sat at our table eating our dinner. I walked in and gave the only greeting I know in her language, and without a response she greedily grabbed my sweatshirt with food-covered hands and started tugging, and then my pants. With the language barrier I wasn’t sure I was understanding her correctly, until one of our workers came in and told me that she wanted my clothes. I looked at this woman and saw no plea, no petition of any sort, just a demand for the clothes I had on. For some reason I’d never learned how to respond in like situations and was a bit baffled. We did send her away with a few sweaters and a roll, and without the slightest thanks she hurried away.

* The family that began the orphanage, as I mentioned before, has adopted 21 children themselves between the mum and two of the daughters. There isn’t one of the children that doesn’t have an amazing and encouraging story, so here are a few more of them. Murphy, 4-5yrs, was actually not born. Her mum went in to have an abortion and though she was aborted God would not allow this little one to be murdered. The doctor knew she was still alive, took the dustbin outside the room and got in touch with TLC, who immediately took in our Murphy. Reuel is twelve and a good buddy of mine. He was heard screaming from inside a sack in the gutter on the side of a road and a passerby picked him up and brought him to us. His adopted brother Joshua, who is the same age, was found in a public toilet, umbilical cord and all the rest still attached – abandoned thankfully where someone would find him.

* The Local Soap Opera. One of our premature babies, Nikita, has a white mother and who knows what for a father. The mother gave birth in an hotel room, and someone convinced her to bring the child here. She did but with the hopes of taking her back on day. Of course the mother is an alcoholic who lives in a shanty and will, therefore, never be allowed to care for the child now that social work is involved. A few weeks after we got this very pale baby a black man showed up named Frank claiming to be the father. Though obvious to all that this child was not his, he insists that she is. Then the mother came the next week, said we must feed her girl bottled water because she’s thirsty and doesn’t like milk, and left her out naked on the changing table “to air her out”. She is not going to be able to take Nikita but she also will not see her in the arms of another, so the poor child will remain family-less with us. I am the lucky one who gets to supervise the mother, Laura, which also means that I get to hear her trying to figure out who the father might be when she comes to visit. There are six options.

“Now thanks be to God Who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and through us diffuses the fragrance of His knowledge in every place. For we are to God the fragrance of Christ.” II Cor. 2:14

South Africa in October

As your weather begins to cool, here in the Southern Hemisphere the temperature gauge is heading north. Summer has officially started, bringing with it the summer rains that give drink to this dry and thirsty land. The other night we had an amazing lightning, thunder, rain, and hail storm that was beautiful. I stood outside in it (until the hail got big enough to hurt) and as the power was out it was absolutely black except for the lightning that split the sky. Whew! I’m still excited about it.

Ministry has been going very well here. We have started a program called “Jewels of Hope” at the orphanage that is blossoming. Currently we have seven girls between 15-17 years old who come once a week to learn how to make jewelry. It is a ten week course altogether, and by the end we hope to have taught them a very basic knowledge of business (adding, multiplying, and profit/loss), how to make the actual jewelry, and in weeks 8-10 they actually begin making some money off the jewelry they make. This week will be our sixth together and it has been a wonderful outlet from the orphanage work. The seven girls are from shelters and squatter camps and are in the program so they can bring in some money for their family. As I teach them how to make jewelry they are teaching me Zulu and more importantly, they are telling me about their lives. I pray each week for an opportunity to be a beacon of light in their dark and Christless lives. With many prayers and financial support we hope to open the program up for 100 children by the end of next year.

Inside the orphanage, as I’ve very eagerly told many of you, one of my children, Lindiwe, has moved her way from being one of the precious ones to being my favourite. Every time I go into the room, her eyes light up and I’m all she wants (thankfully it’s reciprocal). She is 1 ½ years old and has “the Virus” (AIDS). There should be a picture on my webpage of her shortly. She looks like a wise old grandmother to me, the kind that would sit around telling stories to her grandchildren – or an old tribal bard, keeper of the ancient stories. I think she is beautiful, many think hers is a face only a mother could love. And though I’ve never been a mother, I cannot imagine a stronger maternal attachment than the one I have for Lindi.

I have also given Lindi a sister, Faith, who has a more progressed AIDS. She is a fighter even when she has no strength to suck a bottle. Many nights I have spent syringing liquids down her every hour in the hopes that God would spare her life just one more day – and He has. She has had a week without sickness and her legs are almost able to support her weight (with a bit of aid). We continue to raise her up in our daily prayers because she can turn in the matter of six hours and lose half her body weight in three days. Needless to say, she gets a lot of my attention. It has been kind of surprising to me that I gravitate towards the sick babies, but am thankful that God has placed them so heavily on my heart.

Though I haven’t figured out how to rightly communicate this, I have found a passion in what I’m doing that I’ve not had before. It’s not just working with children or starting bible studies, driving children around, or teaching – it’s everything. Relationships, people, children, learning, just living and working in the Lord’s service, however or wherever that happens to be has become a wonderful and passionate endeavor for me. I think I owe some thanks to Natali for convincing me over the past few years that emotions are a great part of our humanness, and our Image bearing. But what I’ve found is the more I have this passion (in head and heart) for life, the more things hurt as well. The more I love Faith and give of myself for her, the deeper the pain goes when she gets sick. I’m sure that most of you already learned these things a long time ago, but it is rather new for me and makes me feel very vulnerable. But I see God using this vulnerability to build in me compassion that goes through my works, thoughts, feelings, and prayers.

This update is overdue already, so I am going to close for now. But hopefully the next one will be sooner in coming and some stories should find their way onto my webpage soon. Thank you for your care, prayers, and support of me – your emails and cards (and tape messages) are greatly appreciated. It is such a blessing to know that each day we are unified in Spirit though separated by many miles, and your correspondences always reaffirm that.

Together in the Fight,

Nicole de Martimprey

“May we learn to love Thee Whom we have not seen, by loving our brethren whom we have seen.” -Henry Alford