Wednesday, August 31, 2011
There's something humbling about sitting with an older Christian woman who is suffering from cancer (and the horrible effects of cancer treatment), in severe pain, looking back on her life of over 70 years, and looking ahead to an unknown number of days on this earth.
Ora is one of those people that, when you spend time with her, you can tell has seen a lot, been through a lot and just keeps going. She maybe even has a lot she could complain about - but she doesn't. I don't know the details of her story very well - exactly how many children she raised, or grandchildren she guided and guarded, with her prayers and stubborn love - or exactly what types of jobs she worked before I met her, past retirement age, in a volunteer capacity. But I have come to appreciate her in whatever moments we share together, which have mostly been in the day to day tasks of running a food pantry, serving food and dignity to poor families of all kinds.
When I think of Ora, I think of strength, and power, and unfailing persistence in doing right and good. I'm sure many, if not all, who know her would call her a saint, an excellent model of what a woman can be, of who a follower of Christ ought to be. My own saintly mother has expressed how she is inspired by Ora. We laugh about the time a few of us took a prayer retreat, and meek Ora was so overwhelmed with gratitude and honor that we "let" her join us - while we all looked up to her and felt honored that she came! We had so much to learn from her. I still do.
That simple, pure, servant-like spirit still pervades Ora's life. Saturday when I saw her in her home, though saddened to see her weakened body, I was filled with joy just to be in her presence. I felt refreshed by her softly spoken words of welcome, and the thoughtful look in her eyes as she talked about her current situation. She amazed me when she said things like, "Well, here I am. I'm alive another day. I woke up this morning and said Thank you."
After reminiscing about the past 10 years of the Center of Hope's ministry, we prayed together. I'll never forget the words she spoke through her tears: "Thank you, Jesus, for letting me be a part of it."
Monday, August 15, 2011
Last night as I lay sleeping,
I had a dream so fair . . .
I dreamed of the Holy City, well ordered and just.
I dreamed of a garden of paradise, well-being all around and a good water supply.
I dreamed of disarmament and forgiveness, and caring embrace for all those in need.
I dreamed of a coming time when death is no more.
Last night as I lay sleeping . . .
I had a nightmare of sins unforgiven.
I had a nightmare of land mines still exploding and maimed children.
I had a nightmare of the poor left unloved,
of the homeless left unnoticed,
of the dead left ungrieved.
I had a nightmare of quarrels and rages and wars great and small.
When I awoke, I found you still to be God,
presiding over the day and night
with serene sovereignty,
for dark and light are both alike to you.
At the break of day we submit to you
our best dreams
and our worst nightmares,
asking that your healing mercy should override threats,
that your goodness will make our
nightmares less toxic
and our dreams more real.
Thank you for visiting us with newness
that overrides what is old and deathly among us.
Come among us this day; dream us toward
health and peace,
we pray in the real name of Jesus
who exposes our fantasies.