16 July 2011

Loss

I like these Five-Minute-Fridays from the GypsyMama.  I don't have anything profound to offer, but I enjoy the idea of linking in to a topic and seeing what come outs without pre-meditation or editing (wait, doesn't that break the Think Before You Speak Rule my mom was always trying to teach me???).  Well, anyway, here goes (and this GM, thanks for the extra few minutes this week . . . I think I'll take 7 1/2).

thegypsymama.com
Loss.
I thought I would lose a piece of myself as a watched a little girl dying in front of me.  As a result of typhoid, her stomach was an open pool of rotting insides.  Everything that could be done, had been.  We were asked to clean the wound, in order to provide her a little time of relief . . . which was ironic, because she was too weak to receive medication, and so this was about to be a painfully excruciating process.


I thought I had already lost a piece of myself as I picked up the instruments to begin.  But the hesitation in my hands and the tears in my eyes confirmed that I had not.  She laid on the table alone and terrified.  I knew my tears would only make it worse.  I prayed that they would be gone and she would be filled with that Impossible Peace.

I blinked.  I had lost my tears.  They were gone.  About to begin, I turned to look at her.  Our eyes met and from behind my mask I smiled.  As she looked deep into mine, her eyes widened, her body relaxed, and a smile grew on her face as the Impossible Peace washed over her body.

In that moment, she lost her fear.  She looked back up at the invisible spot on the ceiling and she remained at peace until we were done.

It was then that I realized, I had in fact been at a loss . . . what I was unable to provide, He gave.  Those were not my smiling eyes she was looking into, but His.  It was not me she saw, it was Him.

14 comments:

Jan Cox said...

Wow,
Incredible post. Thank you so much for this. Yes, He is our Peace. And He is our Strength.
Blessings,
Jan

Dorothy Ardill said...

Ah Deb, I think children are the hardest. Remember the peace you saw, your touch was a "Jesus touch". That is what we are called to do. Been praying for you.

Kelly said...

i found your blog last week and love your posts.  this one is powerful - thanks for sharing.
kelly

Shanda Oakley said...

Now I am crying.  For, yes, 682 and this little girl were here, and now they are with the One who gives complete healing and peace.  Thank you so much for all you do in the hospital there: not only giving medical care but loving with the love of Jesus.  May God bless you over and over.

Deb. said...

Thank you Jan!

Deb. said...

Yes, without a doubt, the hardest are the children. We recently had a medstudent here who told me 'Well, I know that cannot be a pediatrician in Africa.'

Thanks for praying!

Deb. said...

Thank you Kelly! And thank you for reading!

Deb. said...

Thank you Shanda!

Mamastouff said...

Deb, Thanks for allowing God to use you, to be an empty vessal for Him fo fill.

Shanda Oakley said...

Deborah, Would you mind me using this on my blog as a guest writer?  It fits in to my blog perfectly ..... My email is shanda.oakley@gmail.com  You could leave it as it is, or expand, whatever.  I tried to find your email but it isn't listed so you can delete this after you read it.  (I am the one that wrote 682 that you commented on)  God Bless

Shalini said...

Deb...tears are here with me, too. Is it strange if I say what a blessing to be the eyes and hands of Jesus? Stay encouraged. Praying for you!

Deb. said...

No . . . it IS a blessing!!

Rosie said...

What a story, Deb!  Yes, we do lose our fear in the face of Impossible Peace.  Thank you, thank you.  The phrase that comes to my mind is "broken and poured out . . . "  Bless you, little sis-tah. 

Deb. said...

Thanks! Miss you!