When our missionary contact told us we were going to see a man that used to go to his church but is now paralytic, I had a million thoughts run through my head. 1st thought; Oh no, home visits are always awkward. 2nd thought; Oh yes, what if we get to lay hands on him and heal him! 3rd thought, I hope I don’t have to preach to a man who is in worse physical shape than me. 4th thought; I don’t want go, I have nothing to offer this man. 5th thought; I hope I get a prophetic word for him. 6th thought; I hope we give him some hope. 7th thought; What if we make him even more depressed. 8th thought; I hope we don’t stay long.
We walked up roughly 7 flights of stairs to his flat. We walked in and there he was, sitting up on his bed waiting for us with the biggest grin on his face. He greeted us with such love and openness. He wanted to hear us sing songs and give testimonies. He knew as soon as he heard that there were youth in the village that he wanted to meet us. All of my fears were completely wiped away. I thought that there was something wrong with me. I had no sadness or compassion for him, but then when I saw his wife my heart dropped. It broke for her. She lived there by herself and she was his only care taker. As we were leaving I watched her hook him up to a harness and to lift him back onto the bed, she tucked him in and made sure he was comfortable. As soon as she turned around I couldn’t help the urge and I just grabbed her. She was completely embracive as we hugged. I almost lost it, not for the man who was paralyzed but for the wife who was taking care of him. She squeezed me so tight that neither of us let go for about a minute. It was like there were words being exchanged through our souls. The language barrier couldn’t break what was being said between us. I knew she needed some reassurance that God was with her and her work wasn’t going unnoticed.
We were told last night to be ready at 10am so we could do a little yard work this morning. We were all sitting outside ready to go when a woman walked up that looked very familiar. It was the woman with the paralytic husband. Come to find out it wasn’t “yard” work at all, we were working in this woman’s vineyard. She had a good size piece of land about a half a mile from her flat. We came in, prayed it up, and got straight to work. She grabbed a shovel and started tilling the ground. We all followed and eventually we got the shovel away from her and tried the rest of it for her. But she wasn’t going to have it. She took a hoe and started working on another part. Keep in mind this woman is in her 60’s.
Either way I am just completely blown away by her and her awesomeness. There are some days when I don’t feel like doing anything and in America my life beyond easy compared to this woman’s. She lives alone with her much older husband who just recently became a paralytic after a stroke in November and she lives off of her garden/vineyard that she would have tilled all by herself if we had not been there to help her! She prayed over us as we began our days work and then gave us a snack in between. But she was the one who has it rough. Her joy honestly made me think about my own life and how my joy isn’t found in my surroundings or my situations but completely in God. That’s something I’ve had to repeat to myself a lot lately GOD IS MY JOY. And honestly for the first time today, I witnessed it, firsthand.
