A Little Casket & Big Questions
It hasn't been the best of weeks. I've had a lot on my mind, but have resisted writing out of respect for some boundaries, and due in large part to a general weariness.
Amy and I have both been battling this on again off again bronchial infection, and the medications that are now being heaped upon us to try to kill this little bug before it kills us. A lot of folks in San Antonio are sick with the same thing.
In the interim, I spent one morning this week standing in a hazy gray drizzle amid a cemetery crowded with loving mourners all eying a tiny casket.
The granddaughter of a friend, born premature with a mountain of health problems who was initially not expected to "live through the night," fought a valiant battle swathed in prayer for two months, and then, in His inexplicable way, God said it was time for her to come home to Him.
So I stood there staring at the casket.
There were tears and words and hugs and my thoughts drifted between young lives lost and young lives wasted.
I wanted to ask God about both.
I don't have to scratch deep into my memory to dredge up the reality of last month when the troubled 19 year old son of our friends, opted to end his personal torment. The trigger he pulled triggered a tsunami of misery the ripples of which continue to expand today, and will for a long time to come.
We did our best to help that family then, I spoke words at the funeral, and Amy sang.
We are staying in touch and trying to guide them in their grief.
And I remember staring at that young man's casket too while crying out to God to help me make sense of the senseless.
For close to two years we've opened our home to people who've had life rush in on or atop them in a number of ways and found themselves in a swirl...in need of stable ground. We have little to offer: safe haven, time, a place to sleep, food, and advice when asked for it. Our friend Katy at fallible.com dubbed it our "Upper Room" ministry.
Since we've opened our house in this way, we haven't "solved" anyone's problems...at least not completely. However I think God has used us exactly as He intended and the people who've passed through here are seemingly all doing better than when they arrived.
Our latest resident, "Shell," who's been with us for three or four months, has provided a new set of challenges. She's got more than her barely 20 years of living in her soul. A lot of anger, resentment, and unhealthy defense mechanisms honed from years of dealing with foster care systems, institutionalized settings, as well as disheveled time periods carving out a daily existence - not a life - on the streets .
Suffice it to say, life with Shell has not been easy and the time is rapidly approaching when Shell will have to choose, as we all do, who she is going to be...
I've been praying to God for wisdom and discernment as I hope to deal with her in a frank and loving manner.
And thus my thoughts have been dominated by young lives on a dangerous cusp, young lives taken, and little lives lost.
Yet in the drizzle at a forlorn cemetery I gazed upon that tiny ivory casket which held a cherished child taken so soon...and I was comforted by words written in an email from the child's mother after her daughter had died.
She wrote that as it became apparent that her baby's valiant struggle to gain a grip on life on this earth was faltering, the devout Catholic family called in a priest. The priest was ill, battling what he assumed was the same bug Amy and I have been trying to fight off.
Despite how poorly he felt, he went to the hospital to be with a little two month old girl in the last minutes of a life than can be counted in mere hours. He comforted the family, blessed the child...and soon afterwards collapsed.
Apparently his blood sugar was at a level that doctors said that had he collapsed at home, he most certainly would have died himself.
But he wasn't at home...he was in a hospital...because he felt it was his duty to do God's work for a tiny little girl who would never know life outside of a hospital.
Because of that, doctors and nurses were able to quickly treat that priest.
He is alive thanks in large part to a child who is not.
Could it be that God's purpose for that little girl's fragile fragment of a life was to save the life of another?
I don't know the answer.
I don't have all the answers for Shell either...
But I have realized again that I must trust in God...and pray that I am always open to being used for His purposes.
Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him and He will do this:
He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun. - Psalm 37:5-6
posted by Michael
©The Main Point by Michael Main
9 Comments
9 Comments:
Michael and Amy have both been good examples of being available when Jesus puts the call out for available people. Today I listened to a woman from Paupau New Guinea, a nurse by training, a missionary by call, a spiritual giant by availability. Her words of wisdom struck a deep cord, "when you're with your friends, don't talk about the weather, talk about Jesus." What an impact she, a simple woman from a backward country, made upon me, a simple woman from a wealthy and priviledged country.
Availability...it can open a multitude of unseen doors.
Hey you have changed the look of the blog today!!1
I have finally got around to writing in my blog again.. Just thought I would let you know
Janet McKinney
Yes, I'm afraid I fiddled with things so much, certain features weren't functioning like I wished. I decided it would be easier to wipe out the template and start fresh.
Then I'll start tinkering again :)
Welcome back to the blogworld!
m
Michael and Amy, too--You had me from "little casket." Such profound, deeply moving thoughts. The story about the priest collapsing while ministering to the baby--wow.
I'll never forget going to the Catholic hospital (of course, I was raised Catholic...) with my miscarried baby (3 1/2 months along, perfectly formed little boy) in a tiny container on my lap. They admitted me to do a D&C, taking my baby from me. A couple of kind nuns came in later to tell us that they'd baptized our baby. Such high regard for such a small life--I'm bawling thinking of it, 29 years later.
Bless your hearts, you two. You are touching those whom God cares for so deeply.
Reading this post reminds me of the last few hours I spent with my mom before she passed from Advanced Renal Cell cancer many years ago. She had "ung on" for nearly 5 weeks, with virtually no nutritional intake. Family members and nursing staff were amazed, and frequently discussed, how she was making it for so long, given the circumstances. Somewhere during these weeks, mom lost the ability to speak, probably due to frequent need of fluid being suctioned from her lungs and the feeding tube that she had for awhile. I "slept" in the reclining chair next to her bed the final few hours of her life, but was up and awake with her most of the time. I kept trying to assure her that there is a "better place", and that she didn't need to worry about us...that we would be ok and we wanted her to be ok too. I think she needed to have that assurance, and, even though she couldn't intelligibly speak to me that night, I believe she accepted the Lord and is now in Heaven. Even though it was a tragic happening by earthly standards, it was spiritually the most beautiful conversation I had with her. We don't always understand why these things happen...and there is nothing to keep us from missing folks who pass like this...but God ultimately has a plan and will help us to understand over time, as He sees fit.
By the way, Michael...I like the "new look" of the site :)
Michael, my eyes have misted over. May the Lord continue to heap measures of Grace on you and Amy, with all that you do, in so many ways, for so many.
I'm suddenly feeling like we're being put on some kind of religious pedestal. Reading your comments day in and day out kind of makes me wonder if we're doing these things for God's glory or for man's glory (or the blogosphere's glory??).
I am humbled by what you post. I know that Michael is, too. Please know that Michael shares ALL of our lives with y'all... the good, the bad, the ugly, the holy, the unholy, our successes, our failures, our health (or lack thereof), our finances (or lack thereof) etc...
But if we ever sound like we're tooting our own horns, PLEASE promise that y'all will comment on that as well. We all need some kind of accountability. Y'all are our biggest and best "community" right now. We trust you. We love you. We believe you.
I don't know why I'm posting this. I guess I felt a bit overwhelmed by the grace and love that y'all pour out on us so often.
I hope you know... each and every one of you mean the world to us. Don't ever stop commenting, but PLEASE don't ever be afraid to be honest.
The LORD bless you and keep you;
The LORD make His face shine upon you,
And be gracious to you;
The LORD lift up His countenance upon you,
And give you peace.
So they shall put My name on the children of Israel, and I will bless them.
Amen. So be it unto ALL of you!!!
Grace & peace & love & joy & every good thing,
Amy (Mrs. Main)
Oh hell, Amy... We aren't about to put you way up on the pedestal... that's just usually used in church circles so people can have a better "target" for when they decide to "fire."
More importantly to me is the "realness" you two are willing to share -- the good, the not so good, the downright human, and all the rest. We Christians seem to shy away from that word too much. "REAL" means we screw up, and perhaps only a few minutes later, God chooses to work through us in ways that just makes us shake our heads in disbelief at what Grace really means.
That's what we're celebrating with you guys in a lot of these posts! Don't stop. (And no.. we won't let either of you get any kind of big head!
Grace / Shalom,
RPS
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