“The Lord gave, and the Lord has
taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord!” –Job 1:21
A few weeks ago, I got to meet a
sweet baby. We named him Samson.
I had heard that there was a baby
sick in our maternity ward, having just grieved the loss of two children from
our Miriam Center in the past month I didn’t have any intention of going down
to the center.
My roommate had left our staff
lounge about an hour before I did, I just assumed she went to bed early as she
often does. I went to our room to find it empty. I began to search for her.
Once you have a roommate sick and on an IV, you tend to worry that she is
passed out somewhere because she hasn’t let you know, yet again, how she is
feeling. I searched the roof, the lounge, the dorms, everywhere I could think
of and to no avail I couldn’t find her. Then it hit me, she had to be with this
sweet baby that we had heard was sick.
Sure enough there she was. I felt
the emotional heaviness as I walked in the room. He was sick. As I consulted
with the doctor and nurses, they said that he was barely breathing. His pulse
was 40, and it normally should be at about 100 or 120. He was fading. We went
and met with the mom, while my roomie held this precious child of God. We
prayed with her and over her and we sang in Creole. We checked on him again,
the nurse said that we would keep him on the breathing machine and IV to make
him comfortable, but it would only be another few hours before he would be
joining the Lord.
My heart ached with sorrow for
this new mother as she was seventeen and had refused to even hold her precious
boy. It is typical in Haitian culture for a mother not to hold her baby the
first day or two that it is born, for fear of health concern. That the baby
will die. The thought is heartbreaking. Across the room sat this young mother
who had carried this child in her womb for nine months, gave him birth, and now
was going to lose him and she never got to hold him. I wept as I prayed over
this sweet child- I prayed that there could be a miracle. That God would choose
to work a miracle in his life, but I also prayed that he would be made who and
no longer in pain if that was God’s will. Less than two hours after I had held
sweet Samson, Jesus chose a different kind of healing for him.
I am continually amazed how God
allows me to grieve and rejoice in the same moment, how He allows me to
continually love. I get to rest in knowing that sweet Samson is with my sweet
Jesus.
Samson was only about 36 hours
old, weighing just under five founds. I knew Samson for two of those thirty-six
hours and somehow I was able to love him. To comfort and hold him, to pray over
him and weep with him, I was able to love a sweet boy who barely had the
strength to clench his tiny hand around my finger.
I wonder why God constantly allows
me to love more and more each day. I am amazed at how my love abounds, like the
massive ocean. I think of the way God loves and the people that He heals. The
people that Jesus heals eventually get sick again and eventually join Him in
heaven. God loved people enough to do everything in His power to make them
better. Jesus’ miracles show of the depth of His love and He joins us in our
suffering and loves us in those bedrooms, huts, valleys and mountaintops. He
loves us right where we are.
As much as I would like to “save
the world”, I realize that we aren’t called to do that. We are called to love,
to love with abandon. We are called to love our neighbors, right where they
are. Sometimes are neighbors are in Haiti or Kenya or Peru, sometimes they're on
the East Coast, and sometimes their just that person literally next door, that
person you just passed on the sidewalk. We are called to enter into each other’s
suffering and to love them right there, right where they are. Maybe I did
nothing but hug, love, and pray over Samson for a few hours longer. He now
holds a piece of my heart, that is forever changed.
I rejoice in those two short hours
I had with him. I am rejoicing because one day I will see him again and be able
to tell him how he taught me to and allowed me to love just a little bit more
that day.
I pray that Samson now has touched your heart
and has allowed you to love just a little bit more each day and to love each
person you encounter
1 comment:
I can barely type through the tears, Jenn! Sweet sweet Jenn! This was the same baby born when we were there, and I never got to meet him, but I love his story, yet ache for your loss! Thanks for writing these words!
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