Healing Touch

“In giving to others, you will receive more in return." ~ Luke 6:38

In many ways, Eden was like her own nine year old son.  He had a ready smile, was unable to sit still for long and loved horsing around in ways that tested authority.

Before he became a 'soldier,' Eden used to get up in the morning and grumpily head off to school.  He’d wave to his parents as he skipped down the road - just as Nancy’s son did every morning back home and then reappear a few hours later, keen to do anything except homework.

But on July 8^th Eden didn’t come home.  Days later his parents would learn that their son had been abducted on the way home from school by an armed rebel group who enslaved him and taught him how to handle an AK47 Assault Rifle.   Atrocities like this are not uncommon in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC).

But despite the horrific levels of violence and millions of people displaced from their homes, such mayhem rarely makes the headlines of the world's media.  The conflict in the DRC has claimed more than five million lives making it the planet's deadliest conflict since World War II.

Eden was one of the ‘lucky’ ones; only 20% of the DRC’s children live to see their fifth birthday.

Before his 10^th birthday, he became the rebel commander’s ‘bodyguard’ and personal ‘assistant.’  That meant he was forced to take part in gunfights against other rebel groups . . . until he was seriously injured on the battlefield and left for dead.

Eden recovers now in a make-shift hospital run by Missionaries.  One broken leg has healed; the other leg still has some drainage and pain when he puts weight on it.  Third degree burns cover his entire right arm and hand.

On ward rounds, Nancy a volunteer nurse, looks beyond burns, open fractures and infected wounds.  She’s thankful for the healing that finally allows her to touch these brave children to provoke smiles and laughter instead of screaming and crying.

As she changed Eden’s dressings, his little voice was intense but not loud, "Yo wei, yo wei" ("Oh, it hurts, oh, it hurts.").  Nancy leaned close and whispered to him as she peeled each layer of gauze off his burnt flesh.  "Tens tao coragem, (“You have such courage,”) she said in a gentle, soothing voice.  “Yes, I know it must hurt.  I'm sorry.” 

“Tens tao coragem," the child whispered back.  And Nancy realized the badly injured boy was echoing back to her what she’d said to him.  He appreciated her courage as well.

In giving we receive.  And sometimes one is allowed to touch the hem of Christ's garment and  accept gratefully God’s plan for the universe.

Lord, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned.  (St. Francis Prayer)

Snowed Under

“Our unique burdens help us to rely on the merits, mercy, and grace of God." ~ 2 Nephi 2:8

Brandon wanted a new 4WD truck.  Kris, his wife was convinced that he didn’t “need” one so much as he “wanted” one.  A playful conversation between husband and wife ensued to outline the advantages and disadvantages of such a purchase.

“I get the ‘guy-thing’ of owning a four-wheel-drive truck,” Kris began.  “But why do we need one?”

He replied with what he believed to be the perfect response: “What if during a terrible storm, we needed milk for the kids, and the only way I could get to the grocery store was in a 4WD pickup?”

Kris grinned before replying, “If we buy a new truck, we won’t have money for milk - so why worry about getting to the store in an emergency!”

Eventually they reached a compromise – a family vacation for a used 4WD pickup truck.  Brandon, ever so anxious to validate the worth of his wise “investment,” decided he’d cut and haul a supply of firewood for their home.  

Snow had already fallen in the mountains where he intended to cut wood.  As he crawled his way up the steep ascent at the end of a private service road, the snow got deeper.  With no worries, he slipped his truck into four wheel drive and kept going.

His confidence was sadly overrated.  As he backed the truck off of the road to the place he’d decided to cut wood, the vehicle pitched sideways, right off road.  All four wheels spun hopelessly in the icy snow.  Embarrassment quickly overshadowed fear at his foolish predicament.

There he sat; more embarrassed that scared, 5 miles from the nearest highway, 20 miles from the nearest town, burning daylight.  Knowing that he’d freeze to death by just sitting there, Brandon climbed out of the vehicle and started chopping wood.  Before long, he’d completely filled the entire pickup bed with oak and maple logs.  

Determined to try driving out of the snow one last time, Brandon placed the truck in gear, applied power, and miraculously inched forward.  Slowly the fully-loaded vehicle moved back onto the road.  The weight of the load provided the traction necessary to free Brandon from the snow.  He headed for home a humbled man.

Each of us carries a load comprised of demands and opportunities, obligations and privileges, afflictions and blessings, and options and constraints. 

Sometimes we mistakenly may believe that happiness is the absence of any burdens.  But bearing a load is a necessary and essential part of God’s plan for our happiness.  Because the load we carry needs to generate spiritual traction, we should avoid hauling so many nice but unnecessary things that we become distracted and diverted from the things that truly matter most.

Heavenly Father, is the load I’m carrying generating the spiritual traction that’ll enable me to press forward with faith in Christ and avoid getting stuck?  Is my load creating sufficient spiritual traction so I ultimately can return home to You?  Amen

 

 

 

 

 

Super Dad

“When you pass through rough waters, I’ll be with you." ~ Isaiah 43:2

Today had been one of those days.  A series of frustrations left Allen secretly considering . . . escaping to Australia.

A single Dad of twin teenagers, Allen left the office discouraged, only to arrive home in time for “Second Shift” parenting duties – fixing dinner, helping with homework, mentoring adolescents.   Then he got a text from his boss asking for help on the Palmer file.  Ugh!

He sat with a newspaper on the back porch in a quiet moment as darkness fell.  Frogs chirped in the distance – Allen wondered how big the frogs were in Australia.

An NYT’s article immediately caught his eye: “Super Dad.”

“Fathers give their kids piggyback rides all the time, but never like this.  A Chinese man named Yu Xukang gives his son a ride every morning.  Xukang’s son, Xiao Qiang (meaning “Little Strong”), is disabled.  His back and limbs are severely twisted; riding in a bamboo basket is the only way he can get to school.

So Xukang carries him on his back ... 18 miles roundtrip ... across rugged terrain ... every day.

The boy’s mother left nine years ago when Qiang was only three.  Xukang promised that his son wouldn’t suffer being raised by a single parent.  So he wakes daily at 5 a.m., prepares a lunch for Qiang, and the pair begin their 4.5-mile trek to school.  Then, Xukang walks back home so that he can work in the fields.  The devoted Dad returns each day to carry his boy back home.

That’s nearly 1,600 miles and (three pairs of new shoes) since the school year began.  "We’ve never been late," Xukang said proudly.

"There’s nothing wrong with Qiang’s mind," he continued.  "That was the only school that would accept him.  Someday he will go to college."

But for now, Xukang is content spending six hours per day traveling back and forth because it’s the only way, because education is important, and because as a single Dad, his devotion to his son is one of the strongest natural forces on earth.”

Damn, Allen thought.  I’m exhausted at the end of the day, even while driving my girls to and from wherever they need to be.  Xukang walks over a dozen miles and still has to come home and do all the things I have to do.

Here I sit, overwhelmed, bracing from the storm of doubts in my own life.  I forgot who’s in the boat with me.  I forgot who chose the path, charted the course, and put me on this journey.  God never said I wouldn’t face fierce storms.  He never said I wouldn’t face struggles, challenges, and trials.   But . . . He did promise to stay in the boat with me.

Lord of life, You calm my waves, temper my winds, stills my storms. I may be soaked, but I’m not sunk.  Forgive me for failing to trust in You.  I’ve been chosen and called.  Remind me whose in the boat with me.   Amen

Small Victories

“All things work together for the good of those who love God." ~ Romans 8:28

As a rookie second grade teacher, Clarice constantly found herself questioning her abilities and doubting her future as an educator.  Day after day, she searched for inspiration to teach (and learn) while trying to capture the hearts of her young students.

Years of college hardly prepare teachers for the emotional challenges kids face today.  Each morning’s school bell sparks a confusing blend of chaos and surprises.  For Clarice, the week before Valentine’s Day was no exception.

For many children, February 14^th first became important in kindergarten.  Kids make and decorate individual boxes to hold anticipated valentines.  There’s often a class party and great expectancy as cards are distributed.

But it’s also an event fraught with potential for hurt feelings; a popularity rubric where one’s “coolness” is measured by the stack of paper hearts received.  The fixation on romantic stuff can cause young hearts to feel anxious, humiliated, or lonely.

Clarice decided to try something different – an event that would kick start her passion for teaching and reboot her classroom confidence.

As usual, the children spent hours making brightly colored valentines.  Many were in the shape of traditional hearts.  Some had borders trimmed with gold, silver, or white lace paper.

Others were more clever:  Mints - We’re mint to be; Kool Aid - You’re cool; Glue - Let’s stick together.

On Valentine’s Day, Clarice arranged a field trip to a local nursing home where about 25 people gathered.  Silver-haired residents with and sad eyes and cracked lips, sat motionless waiting for anything to do. 

The students handed a valentine to every resident.  Holding them tenderly, their eyes came to life as memories of Valentine Days long ago awakened.   Laughter filled the air like children excited with new toys.

Some claimed their first valentine in decades.  They shared their treasures with each other and replayed endless stories of bygone love.  Chocolates, a medley of kid songs, and hugs-a-plenty added the exclamation point to an almost perfect day.

Clarice closed her eyes and visualized that barren room.  Now she pictured valentines pinned to a curtain, propped up on a night stand or taped to a wall.  Heartwarming valentines traded emptiness for happiness; and loneliness for cheerfulness.  God had shown her the way to help her students claim one of life’s small victories.

It’s never too early to help children express love and friendship in ways that transcend materialism.  Because young children are concrete thinkers, it's hard for them to understand a concept that can't be represented by objects.  By offering gifts of kindness, time, respect, and compassion to random people, they’ll quickly learn that "I love you" means so much more than three words inscribed on a candy heart.

Lord of Life, above all the chaos and upset in this world, You gave us the greatest gift the world has ever known.  You loved us then, and love us now.  Help me to love unselfishly and find great joy in giving.  Happy Valentine’s Day, Amen

Cardinals' Message

“His angels will protect you wherever you go." ~ Psalm 91:11

For weeks after Ginger’s passing, time stood still.  She couldn't remove the pad where her sweet dog had slept.  She had trouble sleeping because it hurt so badly.  Ginger wasn’t just their pet; the beloved Cockapoo had earned her rightful spot as a member of the family.  A devoted companion, a snuggly fur ball, a source of unconditional love.

Her life had been forever blessed; graced by indescribable love.  After nearly two months, it seemed the pain would never end.

And so it was this wintery day that Hannah found herself wondering again what she had ever done to deserve such a precious gift?  She reread the handwritten note from the veterinarian, thanking them for letting him help Ginger end her suffering.  It helped.  It takes a very special person to tell you when it’s time, she thought.

Hannah had no idea that Ginger wouldn't be coming home with them that day.  It was like a living nightmare driving home without her.  A sudden pang of guilt crept into the pit of her stomach.  Had Ginger suffered for too long because they couldn’t let go?

The house seemed all-too-quiet now, too clean, too empty.  She stared again at the portrait of Ginger hanging on the family room wall – a Father’s day gift for her husband.  It hurt.

Gazing above her steaming coffee mug, the backyard looked like an unfinished painting.  So much of the canvas was still perfectly white, as if waiting for the artist's brush to return. The sky was clear - an infinite blue palette.  It seemed odd to think that the grass was still down there, surviving as best it could until the spring melt.

Her focus shifted to the floor by the sliding glass door – the spot where Ginger had once sat (and most recently just laid), watching the birds.  They had enjoyed the kind of kinship that animals share.

Sudden movement caught her eye.  Outside, a cardinal landed on a willow tree branch, piercing the air with a shrill whistle.  Its aria snapped Hannah to attention.  Then there were two, three . . .  ultimately six redbirds.  She’d not seen cardinals in their backyard before.

The bevy of cardinals appeared just like her dear Ginger: beautiful, familiar and comforting.  They arrived when she needed them most.  Their visit told Hannah that everything was going to be okay, that Ginger was home and pain free.

God sends His messengers in many forms.  Christians believe in Angels.  Cherokee Indians believe spirits appear in the form of red birds.  Regardless of the form, they are always something special to that individual, so they may understand and sense the never ending depth of His Love.

Creator God, thank you for having entrusted us with our faithful Ginger; for letting her teach us selfless love.  Thank you for the memories that will brighten our days for the rest of our lives.  Gratefully, we return her now to You.  Amen.

Biker Bandit

“If you ask God anything in His name, He will do it." ~ John 14:14

Amie was the kind of babysitter parents dreamed of.  She was dependable, playful, trustworthy and old enough to have a driver’s license; which made her particularly valuable today.

Joshua, her 15 month old “trustee,” woke from his afternoon nap looking pale, shivering and feeling warm.  Amie knew that these were things that tend to happen in the early stages of fever, so she took his temperature and called Josh’s mom for permission to take him to Urgent Care.  Fevers can be tricky with kids and she didn’t want to take any chances.

She placed Joshua in his car seat and drove to the medical clinic.  Upon arrival she jumped from her driver’s seat and walked briskly to unlock Joshua’s door.  She had an automatic habit of locking her car door whenever she got out, and did it this time, too.  Unfortunately, the keys were still in the ignition.  Je suis très stupide, she thought to herself just before panic set it.

Amie rushed inside the clinic and found an old rusty coat hanger that had been left on the ground, possibly by someone else who’d locked keys in their car too.  As she hurried back to the car, she heard the primal screams of a terrified Joshua from the backseat.  Sadly, she looked at the coat hanger and realized that she didn’t know the first thing about how to use it to open the car door.  She bowed her head and asked God to send her HELP immediately, if not sooner.

Within minutes a timeworn motorcycle pulled up belching blue smoke.  A biker in a leather vest, showing the tattoos of his youth and sculpted biceps, got off the bike.  “Need some help?” he asked in a whiskey-soaked voice.

The woman thought: “Really God, this is who you sent to help me?”  He could be a lunatic, a kidnapper . . .  or worse!  But Amie was desperate.  She was also very thankful!  She gathered all the courage she could muster and said, “The little boy is very sick.  I stopped to see the doctor and locked the keys in my car.  Please, can you use this hanger to unlock my car?”

“No problem,” he said, confidence dripping from his horseshoe-style mustache – a staple of general badasses.  He limped over to the car door and opened it in less than a minute.

She hugged the man and through her tears she said: “Thank You SO much!  You’re a very nice man.”

He replied: “Young lady, I’m NOT a nice man.  I recently got out of PRISON for car theft.”

The woman hugged him again and with thankful tears cried out loud: “Oh, thank you Lord!  You even sent me a Professional!”

Is GOD great or what?

Heavenly Father, I desperately need You right now.  Lead me to your still streams, where I can bathe in the life-giving waters.  Lay down my anxious thoughts and saturate this life with Your peace.  Amen

Good Grief

“God blesses and comforts all who mourn." ~ Matthew 5:4

He’d held the hands of parishioners as they died, baptized stillborn infants, helped families decide when to disconnect life-support systems and worked with parents whose children were murdered.  Each of those experiences was painful.  Nevertheless, at the moment his young daughter died in a horrific car accident, one that he could have avoided had he not been in such a hurry, did he truly understand heartbreak like no other - intense, inflated, and permanent.

To make the unbearable even worse, she died on Father’s Day.  He’d forever remember that day as the one in which his life came to a standstill.  Life would never be the same!

So many things became less important – his job, his possessions, his future.  Everything except those he loved; their importance in his life took center stage. 

Still he felt extreme loneliness – detached from all those happy people enjoying children the same age as Tori was, or would have been.  Her death marked the loss of innocence, the future, of hopes and dreams, of perfection.

At first it was different because of the raw sadness.  But over time, the sadness moved from his skin to his bones; less visible but forever etched just below the surface of his consciousness. 

Weeks without peaceful slumber left him shattered and exhausted.  Mercifully, Jacob tumbled into bed and surrendered to sleep this night.  Slowly his brain let go.  He entered the surreal universe where dreams cleanse, soothe and balance one’s soul.

At first, the lazy fog hung in the air, obscuring his view of a winged figure.  As the mist cleared, a small girl emerged, long flowing hair, cobalt-blue eyes, engaging smile.  She stumbled forward, struggling with the weight of two large oak buckets – way too heavy for her petite frame. 

Something vaguely familiar about this child peaked Jacob’s interest.  He asked: “My darling, what are you carrying that’s so very heavy?”

She spoke, in a soft, sweet voice that required intense concentration.  The angelic figure replied “Your tears Daddy!”

Only after that dream did his heart begin to heal.

He was a survivor; strong enough to endure what is probably life’s harshest blow.  He’d faced his grief and now with God’s grace, is coping with it, making that devastating loss part of his own personal history, a part of his very being.

Eventually, time stopped standing still.  Painful moments still occur - striking, poignant, but in some ways comforting reminders of the child he’d lost. 

One day he’d be surprised again by joy; happy but never AS happy – an indelible measure of the depth and breadth of the bond between parent and child.

Lord Jesus, losing a child suddenly is a disruption in the natural order of life.  We come to You now, because we know that You too know the grief of watching Your child suffer.  Bring peace to any family who has lost their precious child in death.  Amen.