We had gotten a call while we were in Huehuetenango last week, that our good friend Ronny (a 17 yr. old with muscular dystrophy) had gone to be with Jesus. Today was our first chance to visit the family to pay our respects, and I was having difficulty as I considered the trip. This morning in my prayer time, I journaled:
Today I go to Ronny’s—to comfort his grieving family after his death. How do I bind up the broken hearted? And as I wrote the question, I realized the answer. It is not for me to bind their broken hearts. Jesus said that was HIS mission, not mine. My job is to bring him, tangibly, into the situation. To share His presence by my words and actions. To bring Him through my very presence, because He lives in me. He will do the healing.
Today I go to Ronny’s—to comfort his grieving family after his death. How do I bind up the broken hearted? And as I wrote the question, I realized the answer. It is not for me to bind their broken hearts. Jesus said that was HIS mission, not mine. My job is to bring him, tangibly, into the situation. To share His presence by my words and actions. To bring Him through my very presence, because He lives in me. He will do the healing.
Is He already there? For sure. But sometimes in our pain, we need brothers and sisters help us recognize His presence with us. Lord, today, let me see you in my friends, and help them recognize you even in their grief. For you are grieving with them.
Even with this insight, though, this was not a trip I was looking forward to. Dick picked me up with a car load of boys. He had debated for days who he would take with to this visit. The boys decided for him. They were all feeling the loss of Ronny, who they had come to know well over the years. They needed to see his family as much as we did.
Walking into the yard was a painful experience. Dad grabbed hold of Dick and wept. Mom grabbed me and sobbed. I really don't know how long we stood like this, though it felt like forever. All I could do is pray, "Jesus give me words to speak. . ." In time, the crying subsided, and I could hear Dick consoling Dad in much the same way I was trying to console Mom. I had it easier, however, because I did not need a translator. I realized, though, watching Carlin translate for Dick, that it can be a blessing that Dick needs an interpreter--I think Carlin learned much as he spoke Dick's words for him in Spanish.
(I later saw evidence of this as Carlin sat with Dad, looking at Ronny's school work, pictures, and even some legal papers. Carlin understands the "ministry of presence" better than many adults. It was beautiful to watch
a teenage do what many adults cannot. . .just be there.)
It seems we both talked a lot about grieving with hope, the knowledge that Ronny is now with Jesus, and the promise that we, as believers, will be reunited with him. (I just realized, too, that as the boys and Ronny's siblings heard a gospel presentation in the context of real life. I pray it touches their hearts, those who have not yet decided to follow Jesus. The cool thing is, it was a natural part of life, not a contrived "evangelistic presentation." I think those are the most powerful.)
We spent a lot of time reassuring the family, especially the other children, that we would be honored to still be part of their lives, as they all, not just Ronny, had become very special to us. It was only later that we realized the importance of these words. Carlin told us that Dad had shared with him that Orlindo (7 yrs old) had told him that he was afraid that now that Ronny was gone, Dick wouldn't visit any more. My heart still hurts at those words. . .and I'm so glad we were able to talk with him about our "next" celebration of good grades.
It was a pleasure to watch the boys as they visited with the family--each one being kind and sensitive to their loss. It was also good to see how, gradually, the kids all came to life and began riding bikes, playing, and finally trapsing down the road to pick green mangos to eat. I think that the boys being with us helped the children in the family be children once again, even if only for a short time.
On the way home, we took a "short cut" that went through back roads too beautiful to describe. Though I had been to Ronny's many times with Dick, he had never taken me this way. Today was the perfect day to ride through the beauty of creation, even as our hearts were aching. With the encouragement of the boys, we even stopped to play at a river bank for a while. After spending much of the day "acting adult" it was good for them to once again have an opportunity to act as teenagers. And they did--jumping across the river rock by rock, climbing over to the water fall, teasing each other and just laughing and being kids. Watching them was good for the hearts of the two "older" kids in the group too--though Dick and I didn't venture into the water as they did.
Today was hard, and today blessed us in too many ways to describe. We had the opportunity to live out Paul's direction, "to laugh with those who laugh, and mourn with those who mourn" (Rom. 12:15) all within the space of a few hours. If that's not blessing, I don't know what is.
Pat
No comments:
Post a Comment