I have touched the face...

I have touched the face

of a young boy

(10-13 years old?)

whose face had been so badly burned...

just one nostril hole

and one small (1 cm...or less) hole

for a mouth

We fed him the rice soup

through a straw

His face--it felt hard

like one solid piece

Touch the right cheek

and all moved

"He can't talk," they said

But, even with my poor language skills 

I discovered he could

After gently wiping his face

putting on some antibiotic cream

He said (muffled), "duzi tong."

"What?" "Your stomach hurts?"

(Is that when we sent someone for the rice soup?)

After eating

that pain seemed to ease

Later..."shou tong"

And I looked at his hand...

The burns or scars

had curled it

We rinsed off the dirt and soot

in the warm water

Were those bones I saw--sticking out through the skin?

We gave him some pain killer...

(nurse-friend and teacher-friend came well prepared!)

popped 1 or 2 through that small mouth opening

followed by liquid...

I got angry at the crowd standing around

(Not 'ranting angry' or 'yelling angry' but...)

They slowly gathered

a quiet semicircle--10, 20??

I asked if they wanted to help?

No response

And I think I eventually invited them to leave

suggested they should

if all they were doing was standing around to watch.

And I remember trying to point out

"No, he can talk..."

I wished they could see him as a person, 

worthy of compassion.

I didn't live in that city

Just got to be a part of a few hours

in the ongoing story.

I couldn't not get involved.

Just a short time before, in my town, I had held back

not gotten very involved

and a different homeless man had died.

Earlier 

others had tried to help this homeless boy

find him a place to live

But he didn't want to stay there

Then they heard about the fire and the burns

It was cold, it was winter

It seems he had been pushed into the fire

that several had made to keep themselves warm

Later

They continued to try to help

Kept taking him food

Tried to get him to a hospital,

but the hospital wouldn't take him in, 

without family to sign for him

One day, some official department

came for him in a truck

He was loaded into the back

(and I can't write how it was described...tears come)

My friends tried to follow up

were generally brushed aside

Until, one day

they heard a "fantastic" story....

He had been sent on a train to where his family was

Everything was great

The boy had told them so many things

The story...so 'fantastic'

we suspect

the opposite had happened

Why do I tell this story? Why today? (It is a story from the fall of 1996.) I don't know. Maybe just because I remembered, and I'm processing. And maybe because...he deserves to be remembered, his life is worth remembering. I wonder who else remembers him. I wonder about his family. I wonder...

There is so much sadness to this story. And yet there is beauty too--several people stepping in, doing what they could, seeing a person, looking into his eyes, speaking, offering compassion and dignity. It didn't seem to end the way we had hoped. But we were, and we are formed and blessed in the process. 

I had the privilege of touching his face that day, of looking into his eyes, of talking with him, of trying, along with others involved, to love him as best we could. The incredible privilege of that day...

Sharing the journey

Glad to be there today

for her

glad to be me for her

glad to have had my journey

and freedom found

for it is the freedom she needs

I wish there had been someone like me

for me (is that weird to say?)

when I was her age

someone to tell me

they understood

it was normal, in some sense

how to find a way through

that all could be talked about

what part to be concerned about

what part

might actually not be much of  a problem

for me the freedom and insight came

fifteen years later

(and I'm thankful for the people I had then)

I'm glad for her

and proud of her courage

I see a beautiful heart

a heart You have made new

deeper in her

than the sin and the struggle

is the desire to live clean and free

that is You drawing

You leading

Your life

   that is stronger

   than any evil or darkness

at work and alive in her

Thank You for the journey

for mine

for hers

for this chance to journey together

what a privilege to be

a safe place

the first one

with whom she has shared

and I'm thankful for those

who were safe for me

23?

Twenty-three

Is that how many You want us to take in?

Who are they?

Please bring them

We've already met most of them

Help us discern

And if we haven't met them yet

Bring them to us

Who are they?

Lord, let them be the ones

Who need healing

Who want to be free

Who are willing to receive

Who will grown

   learn

   become strong

And then be the ones

Who will be strong to help others

Who will be truly transformed

Only twenty-three?

Choose them well

For the future

Ones who will invest their talents

And reap great reward

Who will return the "much" that you require of them

Because You will give them much

Sad... and okay

A sadness envelops
At the close of this day
A sadness that is yearning
And processing
And grieving

I've been crying today for the guys
And thankful to have facilitated (Your guiding I think)
A safe place to share
And cry
All of them said
They had never shared like that before
"Didn't know where to find someone to tell," said one

Tears...
Such a valuable part of my journey
And they've been told
Sharing, and tears
Make you weak
How are they so quick to believe us?
Or, maybe they're just okay recognizing they ARE weak
We all are

And I'm crying for other things
So many other things...
It's just how it feels today
And that's okay

I cry before You
And You are here
And if I stop
If I stay
I might actually even feel You here

.....

Related...an excellent article read this week: Quit Burying Your Emptiness in Noise and Activity

From the article:
The silence we need is more than an absence of sound; it’s a break from constant stimulus and activity. It’s about allowing the tangled cords in our spirit and mind to unravel and be stilled. It’s about stopping the constant need to control our surroundings with our actions and words in a never-ending quest to drown out the unrest in our hearts. It’s about facing the dragon of emptiness, loneliness, frustration, anger, hurt, and need head on . . . and doing the soul-wrenching work of letting
Jesus deal with it.

What kind of darkness..., Part 2

Some sat in darkness and deepest gloom,
    imprisoned in iron chains of misery.
Ps. 107:10

Let the oppressed go free,
    and remove the chains that bind people...
Remove the heavy yoke of oppression.
Is. 58:6b, 9

...Help those in trouble.
Then your light will shine out from the darkness,
    and the darkness around you will be as bright as noon. 
 The Lord will guide you continually,
    giving you water when you are dry
    and restoring your strength.
Is. 58:10b, 11


Is this what You mean Lord?
I thought it might be about something systemic
Perhaps related to sexuality
And the "bonds broken" happening through education

But sitting there beside him
In his darkness
And later pondering
I realized...
This is good
You want hope for him
And maybe this is what You mean
When You talk about removing the chains that bind people
And the heavy yoke of oppression

I sensed You guiding that day
Guiding the prayers, the tears, the words
And maybe this is what You mean
When You say my light will shine out from the darkness
And that You will guide me continually

Guide Lord, lead
And...please,
Shine into his darkness
Make his darkness into light
Restore hope and strength to his bones once again

This is the view from where I sat, the view out the loft window. He was to my left. Previously others were sitting there too, in that chair, and others nearby, sharing that sacred space and time, lifting prayers.

What kind of darkness..., Part 1

Some sat in darkness and deepest gloom,
    imprisoned in iron chains of misery.
Ps. 107:10

Sitting
Praying
Weeping
Inviting
Hope and comfort
Come fill this home
Fill this life

What kind of darkness
What kind of despair
Leaves a man
Hiding
Avoiding
Running
Mostly silent

All day
Every day
In bed
Oh he eats
And washes
But otherwise
Just laying there

He doesn't like staying there either
Shakes his head
Weepy
Tears as we pray
He doesn't like it
But it's the best choice he can see
It is all he can do

Father
Please break through
May Your warm gentle light
Break into his darkness
Warm his heart
Invite him
Up
And out
And on with life

Father
For the glory of Your name
For the love You have for them
For the son that's waiting, yearning
For the life that is left to be lived
For the purpose You have planned
Break through
Make change
Give hope
And life
And strength
And...
Whatever is needed

Update Sept. 25, 2014--Yesterday I learned that he does not just sit in bed all day every day. True, he rarely speaks, but his son says he does get up to go foraging on the hills for various in season plants and other edibles.

How does one hold...

How does a heart hold all the pain?
How does one...
Sometimes I almost want to stop asking the questions, but...
There she is, coming to visit.
And she looks troubled, carrying burdens...
and so I/we ask, and find out more, and more...
ugh...how hard...

I don't know what to do,
almost don't want to start to get involved,
but...how can I not....
Three kids,
oldest just out of junior high,
working to make money to get treatment for her dad
Mom left with an other man earlier this year
The girl who told me--her mom died a couple of years back,
her brother is still trying to pay off the debts...
She is starting 2nd year university now...

All I can offer is--a hug, a prayer (she wanted the prayer!),
and now...tears.
Maybe some answers will come, maybe some wisdom.
Maybe we'll be able to help the younger girl...

How does a heart hold all the pain?
I'm talking about hers...
And I'm talking about mine
But for me...
I know
It doesn't
I come to You
And dump it out
Again and again
But her...
Help her to come too
To know You are real
That You also can be her refuge and strength

Enough

I started listening to John's writing
As I walked the track this morning
And I wondered about you
I've wondered before but today I wondered again

Weird...
As soon as I heard the words
That you had come from God
As witness
An incredible longing welled up inside me
A longing to be close to God
To hear His voice
As though you must have known that
With this calling of yours
To know you were chosen,
Had a purpose, and a task

But then I wondered, if you really felt that close
And remembered...later
The doubt and despair you must have felt
As you languished in prison
For you sent your disciples asking
Revealing your doubts

But you had seen amazing things
Much earler, you had heard from God
How to recognize Him
And then it happened
You saw the Spirit land on Him like a dove
And a voice...
On that day, you knew
You really knew
Bet you were so sure of who He was
And why He had come
And how your whole life
Fit in the plan
I wonder if you thought
You would never doubt again

But you did
You doubted
Life became very dark
What were you thinking and feeling
In those very last moments
When they came for you
When you realized you were living your last minutes, seconds
Did a peace, a strength, fill you
Did He come close to comfort
That you would know His presence
I hope so
I wish it were so
I do not doubt God's presence was there
Watching, hurting perhaps
Giving you strength enough
I just don't know if you actually felt it as enough

But it was enough
To endure
Faithful to the end

I guess that's how it goes, doesn't it
This faith journey
Yours and mine
There are times of knowing, being so sure
But even after those times
Doubt
Darkness
Struggle
Crying out to make sense of it all
And no miraculous release

Did the answers satisfy
Was it enough
You asked
He answered
Reminding you of the prophecies
I'd like to think they did
Beautiful, isn't it
He didn't mind your questions
Didn't tell you off for doubting
But answered
I'd like to think the answer received then
Was enough
To strengthen those days
And make it to the end

Yes, that is how it goes
The visions
The hearing
The amazing proofs
Followed by darkness
Doubting
Questions
Wondering
Little bits of strengthening come
Various ways
Different times
Strength enough to get through that day
And then the next
Barely getting through it seems
But
Strength enough
Faith enough
To make it to the end

For me there will be
Strength enough
Faith enough
To make it
 

This week's JOY

The last two posts were sad and painful...yes, one day, and especially for a few hours, this past week was quite hard.

But sad, has not been the overall theme. No, there has been much JOY this week!

The above picture was my "happy sighting" two days ago, on the walk on my way to work. The day before I had seen this woman washing the legs of these stools while a friend seemed to be pouring out her heart. I wondered why the friend didn't help. Looks like she's got help now.

Last Saturday at the centre was just hilarious! I was working with Hope, reviewing the specific content of the camp happening next week. Others were doing other things. At some point we noticed the fan, the one broken at the "neck," and there were comments about how it always hangs its head, "low self-worth," "Oh good thing it's here with us because this is an environment where it can receive comfort and learn to hold its head up again"...except "we treat it badly, keep putting in in the storage room." Yeah, sure, goofy "you had to be there" to find it funny stuff, but it was funny. At one point folks in the other room were laughing and I "yelled" at them, "Don't you know we're supposed to be serious here!" Later, when a burst of laughter came from our room, we were told to keep it down. We promptly went to the other room, apologizing profusely with heads bowed and bows. All this goofing off and interruptions when we were SO BEHIND in our planning, but it all flowed and was great fun. Now, pondering that day I realize--I am a different person. That sort of not prepared, and so many interruptions, in the past...I would have been so stressed, and stressing others out too!

And today--how great to walk into the centre for summer camp counsellor training and have folks that have come especially to help out. Someone came from another province.  Even more exciting was seeing past sponsored students--our grads, former counselors some--back to learn and give and grow. And they remember stuff learned when they were students in the program. And former counsellors remember stuff taught before.Ah, some have far to go and much to learn, but they are willing.

Funniest thing--I was to demonstrate "good active listening." Hope chose the question she was going to talk about: "If I could be anyone else in the world instead of myself I would be..." and she said that was me. It was funny and strange, and I had a super hard time knowing what to think or ask or how to be a "good listener" in front of a bunch of other people. But some stuff she said blesses my heart and makes me wonder... Oh...is she seeing Him? Being drawn?

Yes, there has been joy, much joy! Thank you Lord!

The one You love

I was so happy to see her today. I've missed her. I was gone for two months, but now, back for more than one month, I still hadn't seen her, and was a little concerned...until today.

I was talking to the boy, trying to get a response, trying to care, and suddenly she was there. She had left her bamboo pole with boxes of chickens tied to either end and came running over to greet me. I was so glad to see her.

And she looked good--a shorter hair cut, she's coloured it too--some highlights. And clothes--dressed quite modern, and attractive. Was that her doing, or is someone taking care of her? I still need to get out to her home sometime, meet her family, find out what goes on, if anything is needed.

She made me laugh again today. Out of the blue she says funny stuff. As she was bubbling along about her plans, wanting me to come visit--either her place, or this place that is being built high up on a hill (true or not, I have no clue), she said, "Give me your phone number and I'll give you a call." I asked, "Do you have a phone?"  "I'll buy one and call you," she quickly replied. Funny. I burst out laughing. (And I remember the other times she's made me laugh--eating a sausage stick, "It tastes like dog." "Do you like dog?" I ask. "I've never had dog," is her response. Go figure! Then, noticing the other ladies dressed so nice--they were dressed nice, and we weren't, because "they have boyfriends," and we didn't--I guess boyfriends buy you nice clothes.)

I'm somewhat amazed at what I feel for this woman. I think it is how You feel--Your love for this woman, Your enjoyment of her, even though she is...how can I even say? She is who she is. Yeah, sometimes she doesn't make sense. Sometimes she rants on and on. I don't know what the issues were that initiated the fights I've seen her in, or seen the results of. Perhaps it was mostly the other person's impatience when she wouldn't cooperate with their situation. And, she can be annoying, she can come and inconvenience your plans--I've had that happen too. I have no clue which parts of what she says are true, which are false--that her husband died and that her children are not with her, yes, I believe that part is true. The rest...I don't know.

But I love this woman. I consider her a friend. When I don't see her for a while, I wonder how she's doing, look for her, pray for her.

Funny how she spouts off about You sometimes too. Sometimes it is crazy stuff. Sometimes there are bits of truth. Today she said she asks You to help her plant the corn, help it grow.  

And I ask You to continue to help her mind, help her stay calm, or...protect her when she isn't. When she's struggling, please provide her with people who will care and understand. And Lord, if there's anything else You want me to do, please show me.

Leech Strategy

Thank you S.L., once again you have blessed my life. You are STILL blessing my life!

So many years ago we met--about 19 years ago now. I still remember the day, you and another came in. We celebrated our birthdays together that year--I turned 25, you turned 27. Another year later when I was back, through co-leading a group and conflict, and working it out, then as I was moving away we discovered...friendship. Do you remember, that following year--reading together, weekly  fasting, lots of visits? You reminded me of the homeless boy with the burned face and hands. Yes, we shared that together too. But that other thing you said, "Every time my bra is uncomfortable, I think of how you..." Seriously, I have NO IDEA what you're talking about! I do remember setting you up for that photo--now that was a good one!

Then you moved away, on to new adventures, other places...so many other places. And yet you kept in touch, making a point to connect when we'd be going through the same places. Each time--a joy, lots of fun, and good deep challenging conversation. I love that we can talk straight with each other, no fear of offending. Say it like it is, hash it out, question, share--knowing we're both going the same direction, aiming for the same things, so much to be gained both ways.

You are an inspiration! You're so alive, excited, passionate about life. I always wonder what new foods you'll urge me to try. And here you go now, even though it's tiring, still up for new adventures, changes, new occupation (a farmer now, and so proud of your "farmer tan"), even a new country (well, not so new for you). You're still learning new things, still aware of ways you need to change and grow personally. Once again I'm blessed to be hanging out with you. Three years since we last saw each other, but no transition time needed, just more of the same good stuff!

And thanks for the stories. There we were, you telling about the new adventure and its new challenges, weaving a great story; me laughing and laughing and laughing some more. Thanks for the leeches strategy! Who knows, I may need it someday. Now I know--should I ever encounter them on mountain treks. First, roll up your pant legs, so you can see them right away, and flick them off. Then, walk at the front of the group--those leeches stand up, and start hopping when they hear walking, the first in the group is less likely to get as many bites. (Hey there friend, this one does not sound very self-sacrificing! I don't know...I think Jesus might walk at the back. :o)  ) I forgot to ask, but...since salt takes them off, should I always carry a salt shaker too?

You are a treasure S.L.! I love you, friend. Thank you for being one of those people that know me so well, have seen some of the worst parts of me, and yet still love me. I'm so glad God brought you into my life, and that we've been able to connect and mutually encourage and inspire time and again through the years. Times with you always leave me full, satisfied, inspired and challenged. Somehow through times with you I gain new hope, new energy for the journey! And this time, the bonus of a strategy for leeches!

You are a treasure! Thank you! Press on!

Why do I get it so good?

Why do I, why do WE, get it so good? Here I sit in a world class hospital, preparing for surgery--not life-threatening, not urgent now, though someday it may be. I've just been told that the insurance company has now responded--pre-approved. Yes, they will cover everything, 100%, thousands of dollars.

And I start to cry.

Yesterday was Mid-Autumn Festival, and I have access to this all--good health care, wonderful facilities. They've checked everything making sure my body is all fine for surgery.

Two years ago, on Mid-Autumn Festival, a woman died. She was born 8 years before me. I suspect her death was preventable. Oh, at that time it wasn't, emergency surgery only one week earlier had extended her life, but couldn't save it. By that time she was already too far gone. But two years earlier, or even earlier still, had she got a check-up, received some early treatment...would she still be here today? Would she get to watch her kids complete university? To see them, in the future marry, and have children? But she won't see any of those things. She's gone.

I know too many stories like this...probably simple antibiotics would have saved him. Maybe early surgery would have caught the cancer. Even the 16 year old who passed away two weeks ago--in the 10 days before she died, the hospital repeatedly told her father that he should transfer her to a hospital in a larger center, more equipped to help her. He refused, "Just do what you can here." It is understood that they have no money, previously spending all on his wife's cancer treatment. And minimum costs for that "more equipped" care, were just to much to even attempt.

And even when people DO go for treatment--what is available is sometimes so limited. Sometimes it hits me even about far smaller things. I also cried in February, back in Canada, in the hour between ordering my glasses, after checking my prescription, and waiting to pick them up. I just wished I could take my colleagues for a good eye exam--where you know the results of the exam will be accurate, the glasses good quality, and last for years. (Okay, I was extra emotional then, adjusting culturally and all...)

There's a sort of guilt that comes--a guilt for privilege I did not buy, grab, or in any way pursue; it just came to me, by being born. (I had a similar sense after watching the movie Amistad, feeling guilty for horrible sins I didn't personally commit.) Because I was born in a time, in an era, in a certain place, and related to certain people, I can get check-ups, while he just endures. I can get surgery and early treatment, but she dies.

What do I do with this? Feeling guilty doesn't help. Electing to not get the check-up or treatment available to me, doesn't mean that someone else will receive it. The unfairness of it all...and how so much of the "good" side of unfair landed on me--what can I do with this?

I can be grateful. I can share. I can strive to help those in my vicinity, my range of knowledge and reach. I can share my resources, and somewhat go in the direction of "loving others as I love myself." I can make sure those who work for me get annual physicals, and have insurance of some sort. I can make needs known, and together with others cover the costs, pay for some surgeries, do what we can (this, we have done!).

And I can, and I must, not take this for granted. There are areas in which I must continue to repent, and change and grow, and learn to be a better steward of this body I have been given. With what is given, and for as long as it lasts--this life, this body, this energy, this time granted to me that others may not have received--may it be offered, used well, spent loving and giving to God and to others. 

(post started Sept. 20, 2013)

Now I see

It's not often you get the chance to see what might have happened if you had not been there. We never see, actually, how much good our "help" has been. The alternative didn't happen, so you don't see it. We don't usually get an It's a Wonderful Life glimpse.

But last week, I think I did.

I wrote about the girl struggling for life  after her suicide attempt. "Attempt" became "success" eventually. It just took way longer and was perhaps way more painful than she had anticipated. It was painful to watch her that last night, about 6 hours before she died. Every breath was a chest heave and sounded like choking for a while. Eventually she calmed down (Did God help? Was it due to prayer?).  And it was painful, and yet bittersweet, to watch her father--wiping her brow, she was feverish. His wife dying at home, his daughter dying in hospital. And later, he will be left with neither of them.

Early on I realized, "This is the kind of student we help." Had she been recommended to us just one month earlier, knowing the family financial situation and that her mom is going to die soon, we would have chosen to help her through high school. But we didn't know.

And then I had another thought: we might have known, had I not made the decision I did.  About five or six months earlier, in the ongoing attempt to find a way to simplify our processes, and still find the kids that need help, we were discussing what we should do this year to find our 2013 new students. A staff member suggested, instead of going to our regular 4-6 schools, that we simply contact by phone ALL the schools (~17) in the county, have them recommend students. We were going with that for a while, but then I realized it would take way more work--way more conversations explaining ourselves, trips in very differing directions. I decided that we go back to our more usual method. So we didn't call the the junior high school this girl had graduated from. We didn't ask them to recommend poor and needy students. If we had called, would they have chosen her? Would they have told us about her situation? Maybe we would have known, told her we would help. Maybe she would not have gone to that edge, where the only way out she could see was death. 

Maybe.

But we didn't. And now she is gone. She's dead. Forever beyond our ability to help. No hope for a brighter future.

And now that she is gone, perhaps I have seen this other alternative, how it might have been for some of our students, or how it might be for some of our students in the future. Oh I don't know how many of our students "might have" attempted suicide. When we talk about suicide, many of our kids say they have thought of it. Maybe they still might attempt, even "under our care." I hope not.

What do I do with this Lord? I can't change "what might have been" and I don't want to wallow in guilt about that decision made just a couple of months ago. I did what I thought was best at that time. But what about for the future? Can I live with things the way they are? I don't want to stay in a world where kids feel there is no hope, there is no one to whom they can turn, there is nowhere they can turn for help. I don't think I should look at every person and think "He'll kill himself, she'll kill herself...if we don't help." And yet neither do I want to forget that this may be the reality for some. So many thoughts, so many possibilities come to mind... Lead me Lord... Lead us Lord...

She's 16

She's 16
Lying flat on her back 
In a hospital bed
Hardly eating
But can smile

Her mom
Late stage lung cancer
Dad
Some problems there
Not quite sure what

She wears a huge, awkward oxygen mask
Had trouble breathing the other day
Her kidneys and liver
All affected
Not sure how bad

She was supposed to start high school
About a month ago
But...maybe there was no money?

Was it mostly about her mom?
Or school?
Or other things?
Or everything altogether?

Somehow she decided to end it
Took pesticide
But still lives

I'm glad she still lives

I hope she lives
To find hope
To share the pain
To tell what has been going through her mind
To talk out
What's behind the tears
Every time her mom is mentioned

I hope she lives
And finds new life
And healing
A life of meaning
Strength to overcome
And love that goes deep and wide
Surrounding and drowning out
All the pain
All the sorrow
Love that won't let go
Won't give up
Can always be 
A refuge and strength

May there be a day
Of looking back
Amazed
At how close
And yet how far she's come

And may there be stories
And strength
To pass on to others

But that is far away...

For now, just...
Lord, please heal her body
Encourage her heart
Breath hope into her soul

But maybe...it's already too late... 


postscript: It was too late. She passed away about 7 hours after this was posted.

Follow-up reflections here.


 

When "Mommy" Doesn't

Just read a quote from Katie Davis in this blog post. It's sweet, about what "Mommy" means:

...because "Mommy" is forever. It's such a powerful name. Mommy means "I trust you." Mommy means "you will protect me." Mommy is for shouting when you need someone dependable and for laughing with when you are excited. Mommy is for crying on and cuddling with when you are sad, or giggling and hiding behind when you are embarrassed. Mommy is the fixer of boo-boos and the mender of broken hearts. Mommy is a comfort place - a safe place. Mommy means "you are mine and I am yours and we are family.

Yes, that is what "Mommy," and later "Mom," is supposed to mean. I'm so thankful, my mom was that, when I was small, and still is "you are mine and I am yours and we are family." The commitment and the love never ends.

But what about when "Mommy" doesn't live up to that?

I sat across from a girl yesterday, tears were running down her face. "My mom... and another man... I hate my mom, but I don't know if I should hate her." For a few years she heard rumours about her mom and another man in the village, but this summer, two days after she went home, she and her sister were sleeping with her mom in her room, when suddenly that other man walked in. He had entered their house through the open kitchen window area. She called her dad--he had just left to work elsewhere a week earlier--and he came back. Dad told her he talked with her mom, she admitted everything, but put the blame on the other man. Dad talked to that man. Dad is still home now. Maybe it's all in the past?

What seems to hurt most--she had thought her mom was a good person.

Yes, it's what we want, what we need, what should be--moms and dads who love, protect, are good and faithful, people that we can look up to throughout our lives. But what about when our "mommy" doesn't live up to our expectations, to our hopes. What do you do when your mom betrays you, betrays the family?

I asked if I could pray for her. She seemed eager and thankful for me to do that.

Lord, I continue to lift her before You, please comfort, heal--the hurt, the anger, the hate. And I pray for her mom, and her dad...true repentance, wisdom, mercy, love, forgiveness, restoration...and whatever else is needed.

Grief

The chorus of Jason Upton's Father of the Fatherless started going through my head again the other day--about half-way through the guys' grief support group. Three guys--all have had their fathers die. One--mom left even before that. Two of them--dad died when they were so young, they hardly knew what was happening. The other, between when mom left in grade 4, and his dad came back (from working away) with late stage cancer in grade 9, he only saw him two times. He walked into the hospital room with his cousin and his dad asked, "Which one of you is my son?" ...didn't even recognize his own son! One of the guys expressed so poignantly the loss--how hard it is, all the things you have to face when your father dies. Your family becomes poor. Older brothers and sisters had to drop out of school and go to work. He had to fight to be able to go to high school--mom wanted him to go off to work, but others rallied around to support. "Everything I have to learn by myself...even making friends, relating to other people." I'm glad he's finally found safety and courage to name the loss, name the pain.

Father of the fatherless
Come down and rescue us
We need You
We need You again
Friend of the the friendless
Come down and visit us
We need You
We need You again

And then the girls...oh, even more pain there, maybe because there were more of them, but also other factors that come in for girls. Twelve girls, and as one shared and cried, there would be tears and sniffling all around the circle. A couple were given to other families to raise, "They told everyone I had died." After being passed around several times, one finally got to live with her parents again. She said, "I worked hard to earn their love, I used my grades to show them I was a good girl and worthy of their love... it seems to be working, so I must have been successful." Her siblings would sometimes mock her saying she was "a child brought in from the wild." Sometimes, when fighting, they would tell her, "go home, to your home," meaning somewhere else, other than there. Ah, but she is comforted now by her "success." Even though she has health problems, her family seems willing to take her for treatment and pay whatever that costs. Another girl--her mom (both parents?) came to her grandma's house to give birth to her, then left, and she has never seen them again.

One was holding her mother, trying to prop her up to drink some sugar water, mom was having trouble, she told her brother to go get her dad, but by the time he got there she had stopped breathing. Does she wonder if it's her fault? Another--it sounded like she felt guilty for the death...if only her parents weren't away having to make money for her tuition. Oh...and there is much more.

Oh the pain they carry. Lord...please comfort...love them somehow...bring them home, to You, in You. And somehow, show us how to carry these burdens with them, to comfort, to encourage, to be Your love in the pain.

Scars

scars
wounds
unidentified
unseen
unknown
how many
how deep
is there healing
is there hope

where is the wounded hand
that can reach out
and touch the
wounded
quivering
sensitive
flesh
around the wound
break down the scar
heal

will there be healing for this one
balm
release
from the pain
from the memories

will the wound
will the scar
someday fade
or will it cripple forever
and somehow
reproduce itself
propagate
again and again
in the next generations

Pondering ... after hearing about a girl, given away, then returned when she was ill, and given, and returned, and returned for good eventually, after they had their own child, a boy. Given away originally, because she was the second girl, and they wanted a boy. Related--boys... girls...

boys... girls...

Boys, men
are great
wonderful
to be desired
to be loved
cherished
educated

They do need to learn to
make lots of money
smoke
drink

They should
always be strong
tough
in control
have life figured out

They should
never cry
share from the heart
admit weakness
(although these are allowed to 'leak out' now and again when drunk)

Oh, and don't forget
they have needs
that must be satisfied
 

Girls, women
are not so important
not worth educating
a waste of time
and money
after all, they'll marry into someone else's family

Girls can
be emotional
cry
rant
after all, they're weak

Girls are
not valuable
not desirable
except for sex
(informed consent? who cares!)
and birthing boys

They are
trash
can be
thrown away
given away
killed
before or after they are born

Some actually live out this extreme thinking
some live close, but not to the extreme
thankfully many live the opposite of this thinking
yet I suspect we are all affected
our thinking has been altered, shaped

Broken we are
scarred
wounded
and everyone suffers


Pondering many stories ... after hearing about one--a girl, given away, then returned when she was ill, and given, and returned, and returned for good eventually, after they had their own child, a boy. Given away originally, because she was the second girl, and they wanted a boy. Related: Scars

Two Boys

Two boys
Same grade
Same grief group
Both lost dad to suicide
Both saw dad's body not too long after the fact
One found the body hanging
One saw him shortly after the stabbing, blood everywhere
...details that were never shared in the grief group

Two guys
I
Watched them suffer
Watched them lost
Watched them hurt
Watched them and yearned...

Now...both...adopted into new family
A new Dad
Reaching out
Healing

Oh...Thank You Father
For reaching out to them

God...there is still a third boy
From that grade
From that grief group
When I think back to that group
The thing I remember most is the one time
The third boy
His small voice
Confessing loss and hurt

Will he come too
Will he know You
Will he join the family
Your great big family
Of hope and healing
And boys... coming home

(Wow...just heard about one of these guys today...weeping as I write this... the things that grab a heart!  The tears shed before, the prayers prayed, now...seeing them answered, step by step. Maybe 4 years from now I'll hear news about people I hurt and wept and prayed for last year...)

His Hand

Did You take his hand
to save his life?
much like the surgeon
takes the leg
to get the cancer
and save the man

But he didn't have cancer
just a horrible beginning
a father, a thief
who ran off his mother
or she ran off 
after he tried to kill her
for reporting about the cow

In grade 7 or 8
he almost joined his friends
dropping out of school
off to work as a labourer
or...a life of crime
stealing for a living
like his dad
it had all crossed his mind 
 
Because of his hand
thumb and two fingers missing
since playing with dynamite at six
he realized
job pickings would be slim

So he stayed
Because of his hand

And stayed
into high school
and met
and heard
about a different way to live
taking responsibility for life
honesty and girls as more than objects

He started to change
own up
confessed how he had lied
to get more money
stood in front of his peers and confessed
things no one dares confess
but most everyone thinks

Gentleness and humility
now mark the young man
drawing his peers
to walk together
choosing again and again
a better path
while yet still trying to overcome
and understand
his hand

When he lost his hand, his fingers
he almost lost his life

Now without the fingers
on the way to gaining life 
for himself
and future generations