Rodents of Unusual Sizes and Deep Grief

I was on my daily walk.  Walk might be too gentle a word.  Its a steep mountain we live on and walking anywhere requires bulging leg muscles that I am still trying to muster.  I had made it to the top and was on the steep road down when a watusa (Think rodents of unusual sizes from the movie Princess Bride) walked out in front of me.  If you don't know that they are vegetarians you might want to run screaming like I did....but up was the only escape and I didn't want to go up.  Rather, I couldn't because my leg muscles were not yet bulging.  This walk had suddenly gone way off plan.  I thought this dark furred mammal staring at me was going to eat me and then it brought out its baby as if to show me why it was going to eat me.  This momma watusa was not going to let me come between her and her baby.  My routine walk had suddenly become anything but routine.

Sometimes life comes at you that way.  This past week was a "watusa walk" kinda week. It started out like a "routine walk" and then suddenly we got the call.  A dear friend of ours in our town here in Ecuador had suddenly died of a heart attack.  Within about an hour of finding out that heart breaking news, we received news from the states that my grandfather was being rushed to the ER for what was later diagnosed as a massive stroke to the brain stem.  It was hard to know what to do first.  I wanted to hide in the house and wait by the phone, but I also knew that my dear friend and her 5 children where a few blocks away suffering at the sudden loss of their husband and father.

Some of the hardest times of being a missionary are when things are going on back home that you can't get to.  You want so desperately to go home and comfort your loved ones.  You want to link arms and help each other carry on.  You want that physical hug.  But as I climbed the mountain carrying my own grief, my husband and I went and sat with our friend.  There are no perfect words in those times.  There is nothing you can say that will even begin to take the pain away.  You just sit and let them know that you will not let them go through this alone.  You cry with them to let them know they do not cry alone.  Its not about fixing things. What is broken is now irreparable. It's about being present through the hard times.

This is why we moved to this town.  We wanted to be available for the good times and bad. I have spent the last several days sitting with my friend in her grief.  I have seen her children, most who are just entering into adulthood, crying out for their father who left them too soon.  I have seen his daughter weep for the loss of a father who was supposed to be walking her down the isle on her wedding day in two weeks.  I have seen his glassy eyed twelve year old daughter stare into nothing as she begins to process what has just happened.  And through the tears I know this is where I am supposed to be.

We went to the wake and saw hundreds of people come and stand in the streets to show their support and love for the family.  We brought the family some soup and bread to help nourish weary bodies.  We sat and talked about the good memories.  We talk about the loving words that were last spoken.  We talk about their paperwork and banking that needs to be dealt with.  We talk about nothing at all.  We hugged a lot.  We went to the funeral and saw so many people get up and speak kindly of a man who was so loved and admired in his town.  He was a doting husband and loving father in a culture where both are hard to come by.  People noticed the way he lived his life.  We went to the grave site and watched his wife and children say their final goodbyes.

We have witnessed a community come together and care for the new widow and her family.   We have seen good.  But we have also seen darkness.  Webster's Dictionary identifies idols as a representation or symbol of an object of worship, a false god.  We have seen a community praying to so many different idols asking them to guide Samuel's soul to heaven. We have seen people spend hours praying to remind God of the good things Samuel did so that God would let him into heaven.  We have seen so many people recognize a need to get to heaven but not truly understand the sacrifice that Christ made for each of them.  So many people here are trying to work for their salvation.  Trying to accumulate enough good deeds to persuade God that they are good enough to be heaven worthy.  If only they understood how filthy our good deeds look in comparison to the great and amazing act Christ did on the cross.

We live here to love.  We live here to live life with the lost so that some day they might be found.  We point to the cross.  We point to forgiveness.  We point to a Savior who has already paid the entrance fee of heaven.

As I was trying to explain to my children about their grandfather and how he was very sick I struggled to get the words out.  Too much grief, it seemed, for such little hearts.  As I spoke with my oldest son I told him that we would not be returning to the states if their Poppop did pass away.  And his childlike wisdom seemed ages more mature than my own.  He said to me, "Mom, we need to let our family in the states comfort each other, and we need to comfort our family here that has lost their dad and father."

And so with the wisdom of a child I take another step.  I offer another hug to a grieving wife.  I sit and hold her hand.  Ministry this week is being present and available.  And tomorrow, when I walk up the mountain, I will rejoice in the walks that do not include a watusa.  But I will accept the days that do, because even a watusa has a purpose, like getting my heart rate up just a bit more.