We traveled by bus 3 kilometers and then began a 15 minute hike into one of the many mountains in Nepal….
All I knew about the days ministry is that we were going to pray for a woman. Thats it. That was enough for our team and we went. About 10 minutes into the walk we diverted our path to the right on a typical Nepali "trail". It consists of a decent incline, a path about the width of my frame and many rocks along the way, without which footing would be very difficult. I look ahead as we make this small climb and notice a couple Nepali houses ahead amidst a few small corn fields. Samuel alerts us (as we approach the smallest 2-story house I have ever seen) to let us know this is our destination. These 2 levels make up about 1 level of an American house. Clearly not made for someone of my 5'9" stature. As we stand on the still narrow path I look up to find the small voice coming from inside. My eyes find a face full of years and experiences smiling from the second story window. She converses in Nepali but I'm sure it went something like this… "Praise the Lord. You are welcome to come in. I will be down as soon as I can" Big smile.
I stoop over as we enter her house. The door frame at its highest point barely comes above my shoulders. We huddle together once in side looking for a place to sit. She has lined one wall with a straw mat for us on her otherwise dirt floor. Its dark inside. The power is currently out so her one small window is all the light we have. I notice in the corners of the room clutter, dust and cobwebs. But at almost 90 years old cleaning is probably not the easiest thing to do.
I sit down on the mat next to her. She turns to look at me with that affectionate smile on her face and begins to tell me her story. Of course my mind doesn't understand a word of her Nepali but my spirit hears her crying out. Samuel our translator begins to tell us what she is saying…
She lives here in this house with her son, but he leaves every morning and doesn't return until night. The lie of an alcohol addiction keeps him from caring for his elderly mother. She has suffered for the last 9 months with dizziness and doesn't want to eat. Even when she does have an appetite, to gather the strength to cook is a hard task. Also, Samuel tells us, her vocabulary and speech is limited and she finds it hard to express herself to us or to God in prayer. On top of all this the strength and mobility in her right hand is severely diminished. Her eyes beg us to pray for her. To call out to God on her behalf.
We gather around her along with Samuel and the pastor and begin to pray and ask boldly for healing and restoration in the name of Jesus. As we are praying she places her weathered hand on my knee. I, in turn place my hand on hers. We sit there in mutual understanding in that moment. Although the languages are different I understand her desperation and loneliness and she understands she is not alone… that she is loved and cared for by the God of creation. We say amen and the pastor begins to talk to her. She looks up and I see the remnant of tears on her face. I am fighting them back myself.
The pastor tells us it is time to go. He then gives her a loaf of bread and some money. I am thankful for this man of Christ who lives out the Gospel. Faith and actions working together. Faith that the Lord hears and answers our prayers and also acting on her behalf to provide for her needs in a tangible way. We say "Joy-ma-she" which means praise the Lord, and get up to leave. I know she cannot understand my english but I am compelled to to tell her something. So I look her in the eyes, her hand still in mine, and tell her that the Lord sees her and hears her and has not forgotten about her. I tell her she is loved. She responds something in Nepali. I trust the Lord worked in the spirit in that moment to translate but I doubt I will ever know this side of heaven.
As we walk back, I am silent as I continue to fight back tears. I begin to ask the Lord so many questions. For some silly reason I don't want to rest of the team to know how much this encounter has upset me. Maybe its because I don't even fully know why it has brought me to tears. We make the 15 minute walk back to town and then take the bus back home. I go in our room and lay on my mat as I continue to ask God about this woman. I lay there crying. No longer able to hold it back. Why can I not stop crying? Then the Lord reminds me of our time together this morning and the prayer that I prayed. "Lord, break my heart for what breaks yours". As I read "The Hole in Our Gospel" this morning by Richard Stearns I stumbled across this prayer from World Visions founder Bob Pierce and I asked God to do that same thing in me. I never imagined it would be today.
So I cried because my heart was broken for this woman and her circumstances…. for her loneliness and for her sickness… for her grief and her pain…and in that moment I didn't know any tangible thing to do to love her or if I would ever even see her again…
To be continued.
