She was cooking porridge and directing her household from beside her stove. Laughter and chatter of her children and their friends filled the small room. “Pedro, your uniform for school is pressed and on your bed,” she spoke gently to her youngest son. “Martins, your piano book is right there on the shelf,” she spoke to her oldest son, pointing with her wooden spoon. She smiled at me and returned to stirring the
porridge.

I admired her kitchen. Unlike most Mozambican homes, it had a real stove, a sink with running water, cupboards and a counter top. But it was the warm atmosphere that I noticed most. It seems the whole neighborhood was welcome and popping in her door
with a friendly greeting and a quick hug. Soon Otília too would be leaving for school. At 38, she was in the eleventh grade and had class at night. But for now, Otília was doing what she did best. She was being a mom and serving others.

We had begun singing when she arrived at the Alto Mae ladies Bible study that evening. Tall and graceful with her hair pulled up, she seemed totally unaware that she was strikingly elegant. She slipped into an empty seat and requested her favorite song, “Make me a Channel of Blessings.” though new in her faith, if anyone was a channel of blessings, it was Otília. Besides her own responsibilities, she was the constant peacemaker between her husband and stepdaughter. She frequently shared what she could with her brother’s family. When HIV was taking its toll on her sister-in-law, it was Otília that gave her daily care. On occasion she welcomed another brother with TB and
cared for him.

“How can I not be there for them?” she asked me. “they’re my family, and God has given me this privilege.”

However, health concerns led to many exams for Otília. Last week, praise was given at prayer meeting when everything checked out ok. She was feeling better and had gone to school that night.

Otília returned home from her classes just after Martins came home from prayer meeting. As usual, she wanted to hear all about the service and they talked a while. She was feeling pressure in her chest, so she prayed with Martins and he went to study while she rested. Martins fell asleep. When he woke up, Otília was talking to the neighbors outside. She was feeling worse. Since their family doesn’t have a car, she was looking for a ride to the hospital but there were no cars available. Eighteen-year-old Martins hurried to find a taxi and a couple of neighbors went with Otília and Martins to the hospital. After a long
wait, a chest x-ray was taken and her blood was tested. The attending physician said she was fine, gave her a pill and sent her home.

By 4 a.m. the chest pain grew worse and she was coughing up blood. “I’m going home to be with my Savior,” she told her family. The tears flowed as one by one she bid them farewell. Neighbors huddled around her as Martins and Otília were leaving their home
again. Otília prayed for the salvation of her neighbors. She continued to cough up blood. This time Martins picked up his mother and carried her down the street to find a taxi. On the way back to the hospital, Otília breathed her last in his arms.

Arriving at the hospital, though she was covered with blood, the same physician insisted that she was fine and that he take her home. By then Otília was safe in the arms of Jesus. She couldn’t hear the harsh words that Martins and other family members faced as they pleaded for help.

At the cemetery, flower venders peddled their goods of roses, wild flowers tied with ribbons, and large rings of fake flowers on cardboard. The grieving pulled out precious coins to buy them for their loved one. Today, among a sea of heavy hearts, we waited
our turn to use one of the concrete rooms for a chapel. A car brought her casket and we had half an hour to sing of God’s heaven, His grace and His perfect will. Pastor Odenilson talked of God’s gift of heaven to many who didn’t know God’s only way to
get there.

Loved ones and friends passed by Otília’s open casket. A vile of perfume and bottle of baby powder were provided and they each took their turn at sprinkling powder and spraying perfume into her casket, a traditional gesture of friendship and endearment.

We walked the dusty road to her burial site. When the casket was lowered and a mound of dirt covered it, dozens of people tossed their flowers on top. Our hearts ache for Otília’s husband José, and for Ivan, Martins, Pedro and Mijuri. Their loss is great. But we
rejoice that Otília is in heaven and that Martins, Pedro and Mijuri also have this living hope.

There is nothing about Mozambican public health care that would give the impression of competence. Medical care is just one of the ways that Mozambican culture devalues human life. It’s easy to think that if conditions were different, perhaps Otília would still be here. Maybe someday the culture and conditions will change. But today we can find hope in the truth that God is always good and always in control.

He orchestrates and allows circumstances to accomplish His purposes for His glory and the good of His children. The God who spoke creation into existence and constantly sustains the stars in their orbits also cares for the smallest detail of our lives, no matter where we live. His children can have an unwavering certainty that even the wicked choices of others can never thwart the good work that God is doing in and for His children.

What a privilege to have known Otilia, my sister in Christ. May the memory of her sweet confidence in Him remind me that God’s plan is best. Even when I don’t understand, His complete love and His absolute control are perfectly woven together and I can trust Him always.