This morning I watched a kid die (the same one that Courtney held a few days ago). Watched him die, as in stood by his bed with my hand on his mothers back as she sobbed over his fading body. We pray for this family every time we visit. Today we prayed for them too, but we just hung out a little longer than usual. As we were hanging out, I noticed that his breathing was get slower and slower. I looked at his monitor, and could see his numbers dropping. The breathing rate got lower and lower, until the line went flat. Once the breathing line went flat, the kid’s aunt tried to close his eyes and mouth. His mouth wouldn’t stay shut, so they put a towel under his chin to hold his jaw up. Then his heart rate got slower and slower, until the monitor was just a straight line. About this time, they asked us to leave so that the doctor could come in and pronounce him. We stood outside the room, and listen to his mother weep. I just wanted to have some magical power to make everything better, but I couldn’t do anything. I just stood there hurting for her, but wishing that I could hurt even more. I almost felt like if I could hurt more, it would take away some of the mothers pain. I know this is childish, but I couldn’t help feeling this way.
At the beginning of this month the Lord told me to “Love the people here.”
‘Love the people here.” I know that sounds like a silly thing because I am supposed to love the people in every country that I visit, and I do, kind of. . It is easy to show people acts of love, but it is hard to let them into your heart. We go from country to country, city to city, contact to contact, it is hard to love every one that you meet in every country. So when the Lord specifically told me to “love the people” I became angry at Him. I know that makes me sound like the worst missionary in the world, but it is honestly how I felt. I was afraid that if I let these people in, I would hurt. I know that pain isn’t a bad thing, but because I have let pain consume my life in the past, I thought that if I let my-self hurt, I would fall apart. I didn’t trust the Lord to hold me together.
After several days of pouting, I realized that by purposely choosing to block people out, I was blocking the Lord out. I realized that I was getting angry about stupid things that I never get angry about (like whether a window is open or shut), and I realized that I no longer had joy in serving (not even in feeding people). So when I would fight with the Lord and ask Him why he felt so far away, I realized it was because I was consumed by my own self-preservation. The Lord kept saying “love these people and trust me.”-
So I have let my guard down (this is an ongoing process), and let these people in, and guess what, I hurt. I hurt for my friends in the hospital. I hurt for the pain of this country. I hurt for the mother I cried with today. On Thursday, we are headed back to go to debrief, and for the first time all year, I feel physical pain in my stomach at the idea of leaving my new friends.
Yesterday, someone asked me if I would be willing (hypothetically) to just drop everything and stay here. The truth is I would. I see hunger in the eyes of the people, and I would give a lot more than just this month for these people to know the Lord and the truth of who He is.
This verse has been running through my head, “The earth belongs to the Lord, and everything in it- the world and all its people.” -Psalm 24:1
The Lord was at the hospital with us today. In all the pain, he was there right beside me. I can trust him to comfort my new friends, and I can trust him with my broken heart.
