Category Archives: Uncategorized

Summer 2021

When I was a child Memorial Day in New England was called Decoration Day. We took geraniums to graves of family members. This is a new idea on the Navajo Reservation. A grave was never visited and the deceased name never mentioned again. Fear of the person returning is real. They can bring illness or even show themselves to the family. Not even a photo with their face is kept in the home. Also, everything they owned was buried with them. In recent years small cemeteries have been started. But most loved ones give instructions not to be put in a box. Put me under the wood pile or by the sheep coral is their last wish. When these places are visited, which is not normal and is rare, no one speaks. The loved ones are sleeping, we must be quiet. It would be disrespectful to wake them. And no grave is walked over to reach another one. On the mound of dirt will be something the loved one was known for. On the grave of a sheep herder would be his favorite hat. A saddle would be on the grave of a cowboy. Silence and respect is in order at this time. When a person passes over rain or snow must fall to erase any of his foot prints left at home. Some people change their name so the deceased cannot find them. One women I knew changed her name from Katie to Rizza after her mother passed over. She corrected me sharply when I forgot and called her by her old name. Yup, I can goof up.
We are now starting to feel a little more normal after covid. Some are still sick, some lost their beautiful black hair, others are weak. We lost many of our longtime friends-it hurts. School will soon start, the children are thrilled! Mask will be in order there is still much fear among the people. Some students have a sponsor, some are waiting. Till then I am the sponsor of many. Every child is treated the same.
You asked to ride along to the reservation. It’s six am, coffee mug in hand, hold on. The ole truck will rumble over miles of wagon trails and creep down canyons that will make you check up on your prayer life. Two hours later your mug is empty but not your bladder. We stop in the middle of the trail. You glance around, where? you ask. Pick any bush I say but make it fast we have a long way to go and many people are waiting.
We arrive at a home. It is a tar paper shack, a glorified goat shed. About ten people of all ages greet us. We are hugged and invited inside. Seven-month-old twins smile at us. We brought clean blankets, new clothes and pampers. You glance around, you see bare boards for walls, with a copy of the Lord’s Prayer in the center. The dirt floor where one very used mattress lays. An eight-year-old girl smiles at my daughter. They go outside where they toss a ball back and forth. This is the highlight of the child’s day. She feels special, one one-on-one attention. A two-year-old comes to me arms up. I hold her till we have to leave, her head is on my shoulder then she cries and wants to go with us. I cry to, but no one knows. I have had a lot of practice keeping my feelings in check.

Another home down the trail. It is a traditional hogon. Children are home alone. They are excited to see us. They know we brought food. They gather around the table where dishes, pot and pans are piled up. No water so the flies have been having a feast. The little ones dig in and stuff their faces, they are hungry and have been hungry. Thank you for the books you send. The children look through the boxes and find the ones they like. Then they sit down outside in the dirt and read- read- read- each child in turn reading out loud. These children are like most on the Rez. no shower or way to bathe since school closed a year and a half ago. Thanks for the wipes. They are properly named.
The bottled water we give out is precious and used only for drinking.
Love is in the air I see it on your face. You don‘t see the poverty. You see the need and you feel a love in a way you never did before. We talk about school, the children are excited. They are so anxious to sign up. They know breakfast and lunch will be served. Showers are available. Yes !! they are excited. If you like to shop or we can shop for you and save you the shipping. Please, we need new shoes and clothes – any size will do. We are desperate to have these children ready with classroom supplies in hand.
We go to another home. It is more like a goat shed. We are welcomed by all. I am careful how I take a step. Dogs and puppies run around our feet, they also want attention and they are hungry. I hesitate to tell you this but you wanted to see for yourself the truth of life on the Rez. Food is really hard to get, the puppies are a food source when there is nothing else. I know it sounds rough but that’s life here.
Speaking of school. The idea in this area got started a long time ago. A small Indian girl was keeping crows out of the cornfield. Indians of another tribe swooped down and she was one of the many stolen that day. She was taken by another tribe far away to the South. She cried herself to sleep many nights. One day she was taken to school. She lived with this tribe till she was a teenager. Years later she was returned. She brought back pencils, a ball and bat, books and a treadle sewing machine. She was the first teacher and started the first school in the same area where I am today. That school was a traditional log and mud hogon and the students arrived on horseback.
Education was in the air and still is. This is my fifty-third year in this very remote area. To purchase a pair of shoes you would have to travel 150 miles one way. This is impossible for most. We shop and deliver through the months and years school is open. Because of you students have clothes and supplies. With these tools they can go forward, dream and have a future. You have helped students become teachers, nurses, school bus drivers and proud parents will show you photos of their young people in the military.
You spent all day on the Rez. Going home I notice you are quiet. How are you doing I ask. You respond, I just didn’t know, I really didn’t. I will never be the same. I will never complain about what I don’t have – I wanted to be a blessing but I was the one who was Blessed. What hit me the most was when a grandmother laughed at a joke she made, then she said to me, if we don’t laugh we will cry and if we cry we will never stop.
On the Trails,
Sylvia and Sylvia

Fall 2021

The small Navajo boy slowly woke to the sounds of his hogan home coming to life. Grandfather could be heard outside chopping wood for the breakfast fire. Grandmother was preparing frybread. The red potatoes would soon hit the hot grease in the frying pan. The boy stretched, he was comfortable, why rise off his sheep skin bed. His name was Early Walker Nez. Why his name was Early he didn’t know. Grandfather’s name was Walker. He was named after the owner of the trading post. Nez means tall in Navajo. And grandfather was tall. Grandmother was wise, you could see it in her eyes. Grandmother and Grandfather never mentioned Early’s parents. It didn’t matter. He was a happy boy. Also to ask would be considered rude. It was also rude to ask an elderly what they were thinking about or of days gone by. But if they chose to tell, then you must stay very quiet, eyes cast down and not interrupt. Early would take the sheep out to graze after he ate. He and the sheep were friends. They trusted him to keep them safe. A few goats went along. The goats were trouble makers, they could lead the sheep astray.
That night Early sat by the fire watching Grandfather sip his hot coffee. Something was on his mind. Grandfather was deep in thought. Early tried to think what it could be about. Was grandfather going to give Early a horse of his own? Early waited. Then grandfather spoke. What he said frightened Early. There is a place called school grandfather said, and you are going there. Early wanted to ask “why” but that would be considered rude. A few days later Grandfather told Early to wash himself all over then Grandmother would comb his long hair and fold it into a bun. The bun would be held tight with wool strings from their own sheep. The morning came, grandfather and Early rode side by side to the place called school. Early was scared. But he was Navajo, he was taught to never show fear. At school he sat on a chair for the first time. His sheep skin at home was much more comfortable. The teacher had blue eyes like the sky. She talked but Early didn’t understand her. Early decided by the end of the day the person called teacher was kind, so he called her Skyy Eyes. Her eyes were the color of the sky. Early never saw such a thing. Weeks and months went by. Early missed very few days at school, infact he looked forward to each new experience. He was learning to speak another language called English. Grandfather and grandmother were proud of him. He learned a game called baseball. One day the teacher brought art paper to class. She said to draw anything the student wished. Early got lost in his art. Later teacher said he was a real artist. Early smiled at Skyy Eyes.
One day months later teacher said a surprise was soon to appear. The students were excited. Soon they heard the rumble of a wagon outside. A large box was brought into the class room. The students gathered around. Inside the box was a thing with black and white teeth. Soon the teacher was making the teeth sing. Some children were scared. Early wasn’t scared. He was drawn to the sound. That night while Grandfather and grandmother sat eating Early told them about the singing teeth. They wondered if it was wise for Early to attend such a strange place. Early told them about Skyy Eyes friend she called Jesus. He is God’s son and He loves us Early proclaimed. The black and white teeth sing about Him. Then another surprise happened. It was called Christmas. Skky Eyes friend “Jesus” had a birthday. Teacher gave each student a gift bag. Inside was a new pencil, some strange nuts and a ball Early ate called Orange. Early was so happy at school, so many wonderful things to see and learn.
Early loved the place called school. He wished he could go every day. On a no school day grandmother told Early the sheep were ready to go out of the corral and graze. She gave him a piece of frybread for later. Then she said, when you are out there with the sheep don’t look up at the crows. They can make you go blind. Early was thinking about school. Two more days and he could return.
The next morning Early smelled coffee, he could hear grandmother making frybread. He could hear grandfather chopping wood, and the sweet smell of cedar warmed the hogon. But what he could not do was see. He rubbed his eyes he blinked his eyes then he cried out to grandmother. She held him in her arms, she asked Early if he looked up at the crows. He nodded yes, I forgot what you told me. Now I am blind!
Early stayed home for a long time. He was lonely. One day some people came to visit. Grandmother and grandfather were not happy about it. There is a school that can help Early they said. Grandmother and Grandfather were against it, Early stayed home. Much later some missionaries arrived. They knew Skyy Eyes friend Jesus. Early wanted to go with the missionaries and he did. Now as a young man he sat at a piano and a miracle happened. Early’s ears taught him music, he could play almost any instrument they handed him.
The Indian children loved Early and together they loved Jesus. Skky Eyes people became his people. Soon Early was telling his Navajo people about Jesus in songs. He made puzzles with the children. Early could feel the puzzle piece and where it fit. Early loved doing puzzles with the children. Early lives in Heaven now with many of his new family. Grandmother and Grandfather turned their backs on Early and his new friend Jesus. But Early was given a new family that helped him grow and learn.
Another Christmas is coming. More Indian children are waiting for a gift bag. Could you help us bring joy to them?
In memory of Early and his love of puzzles could you help us give a NEW 1000 piece puzzle to each of our Indian children this year as a gift? Nature puzzles Great! But no bears, owls or snakes. Earlys life story was told to Sylvia Webb many years ago by Early.
My daughter and I thank you for being with us in Spirit as we travel the trails into homes and schools.
With Much Love and Appreciation,
Sylvia and Sylvia

2020 Spring

What’s that sound? The security at the school went from door to door trying to find where the sound was coming from. Two more days and school would be open, the break would be over. They heard it again then they located the rapping. A small boy was outside on his tippy toes trying to get in. Security opened the door. The child was crying, his eyes and his nose ran down to his chin. I’m hungry he said with a pleading voice.

Right now, “PLEASE” help us help Navajo Indian children like this boy. He knew if he could just get to school he would be okay.

We want to be there with food and bottled water for many of the students just like this boy. He knew where the safe place was. The Reservation is under emergency shutdown at this time. Many are ill.

Years ago, we sponsored a girl till she was about fifteen. The family moved from our area. We never forget them and wish them well. Last week, my daughter and a Navajo lady who is a longtime friend went to Flagstaff AZ for supplies. We were in a store and I heard my name called. I turned around and there she was, gown and a manager of a large well known chain. We hugged, we cried, and oh the memories!

At last we have a school nurse, the principle said. I was busy but said “who is it?” Her name is Candida was his reply. I dropped my pencil, I will thrilled, our sponsored child of a long time ago is home helping children in her own area. Her sponsor helped her through the years with books and many other needs.

Toddlers that I met over fifty years ago are now teachers in schools on the reservation. I had to push against culture to give them pencils and notebooks. They have their own stories of struggles with education to help their community. Education was not accepted for a long time. It was looked on as a threat.

One teenage boy was just bad. We got ahold of him and taught him about Jesus. He saw the light, got a job, and today he is a Trackman Operator for the Railroad.

Yup, fifty-two years and counting. Still on the trails with your blessings! Speaking of blessings, my daughter is on the trails with me. Out Navajo friends are absolutely thrilled! In the Navajo culture mothers and daughters are never apart – ever! A recent gift handed to us from a sweet Navajo lady was handmade muffins. They were so good. Ingredients were blue corn meal and ashes. Anything made with blue cornmeal is considered a gift with high esteem. Yum, sooo good. Till next time.

With your prayers and help,

Sylvia and Sylvia Jr.

2019 Spring

The small boy hurried along the trail, holding the hands of his two smaller brother and sister. The night was dark. The small boy wanted to cry but held it in. He was used to that feeling. He didn’t want to look weak when they all needed to act strong. The trail was longer in the dark. They could all imagine scary beings along the way. Somewhere on the trail up ahead they hoped to find the house that was really a tar paper shack. They couldn’t go back, it wasn’t safe. The hunger they felt kept them going. Later, much later they saw the outline of the place they hoped would welcome them in. This boy is now in his middle forty’s and is a school bus driver. He brings children to us that need our help. The Navajo lady sat before me. We knew each other since she was eight years old. She and I are both grandmothers now. I saw her she said with a faraway look on her face. She repeated it again, I did, I really saw her. This morning I was outside, and something caught my eye. It was a small Eagle sitting on a pole. I looked at it and it looked back at me. I didn’t move and it didn’t move. We just looked at each other for the longest time. Then I remembered, I felt tears in my eyes. Today makes ten years ago that my baby girl passed away. I know this is her way to let me know she is OK. Us Navajos she continued believe when we lose a loved one, they return to us in the form of an animal. An hour later the mother let out a sigh of relief and held out her hands. Please she asked, make me a prayer. I share these two stories with you because we need your continued prayers for wisdom as we go forward with the many needs among the Navajo people. The children on the reservation don’t like it when school is out. They say no School means no Food. So again, this summer we ask you to remember us with your gifts that will help our families on the Indian reservation. One of the greatest needs is water. When you help and send, we haul and go. Please keep us on the trails this summer and go with us and hold our hands in prayer.

Sylvia Webb

2019 Summer

My name is Kris Heaton. I live in Connecticut. At a church function in my hometown, I was introduced to Sylvia Webb. After we talked and she returned to Arizona. I decided to be a supporter of her mission. While on a business trip to Flordia, I was getting ready to fly back to connnecticut and I decided I wanted to go to Arizona. I called her, she said, come on over! I did! The drive up the mountain from Phoenix was breath taking. Cactus, blue sky WOW! The next day Sylvia and I, with her daughter driving, we headed out early for the reservation. Warning! The elevation at 6000 feet can be taxing. Another warning – hold on to your seat, the miles of wagon trails are rough!

Indian Mobile Mission? It is “MOBILE” and has a mission!!

We arrived at school. The staff and students all wanted to be the first to give Sylvia a hug. I never saw anyone get so many hugs, hundreds at least that day. The staff talked with me and told me how they were toddlers when Sylvia arrived fifty-one years ago. And now they smile and say we are the teachers and school bus drivers because Sylvia encouraged us to get in school. I also met the principle who is from New Jersey. He is finding his way around this foreign country called the Navajo Reservation. He could not say enough about the things Sylvia and Junior do to help the students. Classroom supplies, new clothes, shoes, toiletries and words of encouragement.

I enjoyed talking with a real live cowboy. He is also a bus driver. He told me about his horses, rodeo riding awards. He chuckled and pointed to scars and bumps when he flew in one direction and the horse galloped away in another. I loved his deep laugh when he said, sometimes the horse wins.

At school, some of the boys wore western hats to class. I felt like I was at a huge happy family reunion. Students, staff and community lined up for a meal. I caught a glimpse of Sylvia’s daughter serving meals to Navajo Children. Sylvia and her daughter have the same name thus the Junior defines who is who.

Sylvia asked a small boy if he goes to bed hungry. He looked down at his feet and said, “I have no bed.” Another story I heard was a boy who wanted to play soccer. The teachers were in a huddle about why he keeps falling. Soon the truth was known, he was wearing his sister’s big shoes (they share) and he was tripping over his feet…. Sylvia and YOU to the rescue!

The Sylvia’s need your help. As you read this school will be starting. Hundreds of children will enter their classrooms empty handed. A tall old Navajo man hugged Sylvia. At home his is called Big Daddy. He was dead set against education for his grandson. Sylvia talked with Big Daddy many times. This year the grandson Foot Runner went into 6th grade passing with flying colors. The boy said someday I will care of Big Daddy.

And this was just my first day with Sylvia and the Navajos. Come see for yourself. I’m going home and tell everyone….. I went, I saw the raw truth and the need. Let’s help Sylvia and Junior stay on the trails where the real need is.

Till the next Adventure in Navajo Land!

Kris from Connecticut

2020 June

“Crybaby”, she’s just a crybaby. The Navajo ladies in the village all agreed with a nod of the head. The small girl was about three years old. She seemed lost in the village of smoke and brown faces. She felt lost and unwanted. She knew she was different. Not one spot in the village was hers. She wandered around in hopes someone would give her a scrap of bread or meat to eat.

One day a strange lady appeared in the village. She spoke some words, but no one knew what they were. The lady was white…not brown. The lady “smiled” everyone understood that language. The lady was drawn to the child called “Crybaby”. There was an instant connection. The lady said in Navajo “Jesus Loves You”. The village listened, who was she? Who is Jesus? Later they learned her name was Sylvia. But the idea of her “Jesus” was strange. One-night Crybaby had a dream, she saw a really bright light, a hand with a scar on it reached out to her and said, “little girl don’t be afraid.”

The years flew by, Sylvia was always there with books, papers and pencils, also clothes and shoes. Crybaby loved the place called school. One day she received a Bible story book with beautiful pictures. At the age of thirteen, Crybaby asked Jesus into her heart. Soon some family members asked Jesus into their hearts too. But some family members got ugly to Crybaby. One day Crybaby asked her mother why she looked different than her sister and brother. She was hit and told to never ask that question again.

At the age of eighteen Crybaby graduated from high school with excellent grades. She loved Math. She was happy to go home and hoped for a Coke to celebrate. But when she arrived home she was told to get out! With tears in her eyes, Jesus in her heart and her diploma in her pocket she caught a ride to Phoenix. She was scared but got three jobs and put herself through college. Twenty-five years later, she is still in the accounting department for the City of Phoenix. At the age of twenty-seven she married a Christian Navajo man. They have two sons in High School.

She is no longer Crybaby; she is a Christian with a mission. She and Sylvia make up family bags of needed items for people on the reservation. A copy of the Lord’s Prayer is placed in each of the family packages. Crybaby’s real name is “Bernita.” She says she has been blessed and wants to give back to her people.

As I write, the phone rang. Crybaby was crying. What she said made me cry too – she just lost her sister to Covid 19. Please keep us all in your prayers as we help others. There’s much illness and death on the Reservation.

Sylvia Webb

2020 May

What’s that sound? The security at school went from door to door trying to find where the sound was coming from. Two more days and school would open, the break would be over. They heard it again then they located the rapping. A small boy was outside on tippy toes trying to get in. Security opened the door. The child was crying, his eyes and nose ran down to his chin. I’m hungry he said with a pleading voice.

Right now, “PLEASE” help us help Navajo Indian children like this boy. He knew if he could just get to school, he would be okay.

We want to be there with food and bottled water for many of the students just like this boy. He knew where the safe place was. The Reservation is under emergency shut down at this time. Many are ill.

Years ago, we sponsored a girl till she as about fifteen. The family moved from our area. We never forget them and wish them well. Last week my daughter and Navajo lady who is a longtime friend went to Flagstaff AZ for supplies. We were in a store and I heard my name called. I turned around and there she was, gown and a manager of a large well know chain. We hugged, we cried and oh the memories!

At last we have a school nurse, the principal said. I was busy but said “who is it?” Her name is Candida was his reply. I dropped my pencil. I was thrilled, our sponsored child of long ago is home helping children in her own area. Her sponsor helped her through the years with books and many other needs. Toddlers that I met over fifty years ago, are now teachers in schools on the reservation. I had to push against culture to give them pencils and notebooks. They have their own stories of struggles with education to help their community. Education was not accepted for a long time. It was looked on as a threat.

One teenage boy was just bad. We got ahold of him and taught him about Jesus. He saw the light, got a job and today he is a Trackman Operator for the Railroad.

Yup, fifty-two years and counting. Still on the trails with your Blessings! Speaking of Blessings, my daughter is on the trails with me. Our Navajo friends are thrilled! In the Navajo Culture mothers and daughters are never apart—ever! A recent girl handed to us from a sweet Navajo lady was hand-made muffins. They were so good. Ingredients were blue corn meal and ashes. Anything made with blue cornmeal is considered a gift of high esteem. Yum, soooo good.

Till next time. With Your Prayers and Help,

Sylvia and Sylvia Jr.

2020 January

Greetings from Pennsylvania, I am Holly Dangerfield. When I was in High School, I learned about the plight of the Native peoples. But I did not know how to help or what to do. I didn’t know where they were. Years later, I was in a Christian Book Store and overheard two ladies talking about someone who lived among the native people and helped them. I asked the ladies for more information. Soon, I learned they were talking about Sylvia Webb and Indian Mobile Mission. That was twenty years ago! Sylvia and I talked on the phone a few times. Then one day this past fall I called her. She told me of a need for toothbrushes and tooth paste for the children and adults. Such a small item and I asked, “why?” Sylvia told me of a child who received a toothbrush in a gift bag. He was so excited! In his family there are six people and they all use the same toothbrush. This was not okay with me. I went to my Pastor and it was not okay with him either. Our Church started a collection and we counted 7000 toothbrushes with paste to match. My Pastor wasn’t done yet. And he said, we are sending you out to the reservation so you can help pass them out. I was thrilled!We made home visits on the second day. I didn’t know in our country people lived in dwellings a little bigger than a goat shed. In some cases, three generations huddled together. I am lost for words to describe what I saw. But the love I felt from all these families….wow…I found myself enjoying the people and the surroundings did not matter. However, I will never take a glass of clean water for granted again or grumble about vacuuming the carpet, washing the dishes or cleaning the bathroom. During one visit, I was surprised to see a large handmade wool Navajo Rug being made on a loom. Another home we visited I saw a five-year-old boy. He wanted to attend school. Sylvia encourages attendance…then we heard what the problem was. The small boy was dropped off months ago by a person who in turn dropped him off at another home. He has no birth certificate. No one in the home was sure who he was. Because there is no paper trail on this child he cannot sign up for school. So, from a distance he watches other happy children enter a building where he can’t go. I did lose my composure when on that hot day we saw a group of horses dying for water. There was a water tank, but the faucet was down in a deep pipe underground. The horses knew there was water but could not reach it. A Navajo lady laid on the ground and could barely reach the pipe, all of a sudden, the rush of water flowed into the trough. The horses gulped till they were full. I saw for myself the need and felt the pain of Sylvia and her daughters experience. For the minimum of twenty-five dollars you can sponsor a child. Or you can send undesignated funds to help families with food and so many other needs. After what I saw, I decided to sponsor a second child

In Loving Memory

Ken Webb was born June 26, 1929 in Massachusetts. He endured school and never went straight home after class. There were more interesting things to do like hunting bugs and frogs for his collection at home. His mother became a nervous Nellie and a screamer as a white pet rat crawled out from under his bed.

At the age of seventeen he wanted to expand his roaming for adventure and begged his parents to sign on the dotted line so he could enlist in the Navy. They said NO many times. But the soup at home was getting thin so they relented and away he sailed. He quickly decided it was a mistake but had to stick it out. He counted down the years and months until he was out. By then his dad who was a plasterer by trade and was working in Phoenix, Arizona. Ken tried his hand at different jobs till one day he went into a coffee shop and had a chat with a man who was driving a telephone truck. A cup of coffee and a slice of pie later the deal was struck. He was now an employee as a lineman for the county.

He started out with a five foot shovel to dig holes for the lines. As the years went by and more schooling was required he moved up the ranks into computers. He was a bachelor with a few scars from a broken heart. He bumped into Sylvia in Snowflake, Arizona when her pick-up truck needed fixing at a local garage. That day his life changed forever – but change is good.

They met in April of 1983 and were married in July of 1984 in Alaska while on a fishing trip. His knowledge of computers and no knowledge of how to be a husband made for an interesting start.

Mr. Webb was a quiet man with a quiet strength. He will be missed but never forgotten by Sylvia and his many friends. His quiet wisdom helped Sylvia with major decisions on the Navajo Reservation.

A new year is upon us with new adventure and challenges. Sylvia needs your love and prayers as she continues travelling the trails.