Vivianne sat on the floor, eating spaghetti and looking around with her big, beautiful eyes. Vivianne spoke even less French than I did, so needless to say we never had any significant conversation. This was in 2009 when I came for a two-week visit.

On our family’s first Sabbath in the Natitingou church, we received a warm welcome from the members. Most of them remembered me from my visit two years ago, and some of them said they had been praying for us for a long time.

Simeon? Augustin? Donné? I was racking my brain, trying to remember the names of the children I recognized. Most of the children I could remember are still attending church each Sabbath, and the ones whose names I remembered were especially excited to see me. It was encouraging to see so many children in church.

Sadly, Vivianne’s face was missing from the crowd of happy children. A couple months before we arrived in Benin, Vivianne died unexpectedly. Apparently, she ate a poisonous variety of cassava while she was home alone, and her mother found her dead. Even the witchdoctor that came to discover the spiritual cause of her death admitted that the cassava had killed her. Her mother had told her to not eat that cassava, but for some reason she disobeyed and paid with her life. I remember Vivianne’s quiet ways and her large, dark eyes that seemed to reveal her every thought.

We trust that Jesus will raise Vivianne back to life when He returns. We are sad that she is not here, yet we are happy that we can expect to see her again. There is much she did not know, but we believe that, in her own childish way, she knew Jesus.

Life is short and uncertain here in Benin. The average life expectancy is only 60 years. Many children and adults die far too early from various causes that mostly could have been easily prevented. That is a large part of the reason we are here—to help people live longer lives. Not longer by just a few decades, but lives that will stretch into eternity. We are here to teach Otammari people that there can be an element of joyous hope mingled with the sadness of death. Thank you for helping us get here, and thank you for your continued prayers for our ministry.

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