Lately, I have been reflecting a lot about the hour or so I spent cooped up in this tiny room for nursing moms in the ICU. It was the only private space the nurses could find for me after I collapsed from news of the stroke. It was small but had a big comfy chair and more importantly, a door that closed off the outside world. While I was holed up in there, rocking with my grief, a wise, gentle man named Merv came to call on me. His name tag revealed he was a chaplain but looking back now I reckon he may have been an angel. When he found me, I was in a state. I had just commissioned the floodgates to open and the prior six days of grief, panic, confusion, anger, and aching maternal love now had permission to pour from my body and fill the room. But there he was, ready for me. I looked at him and said, "how can you work in a place like this? There is so much darkness here, so much suffering. Where do you find the hope?" (Even as we sat there together, we could hear the wails of another woman outside the door.) Merv looked at me and said, "I have been doing this work for 30 years and it is my faith that gets me through." But I had been blindsided I told him. I had worked really hard to find faith in this ordeal but now it was shattered by something that no one had forecasted. As if her injuries weren’t bad enough. I lost my ability to believe in anything. "Faith isn't something you are born with", he told me, "it is a choice you make...you have to CHOOSE it. You can NOT choose it, but what's your alternative?"
Even in my compromised state, I knew he was right. No parent would team up with despair and disengagement to fight their child's battle. Of course I had to saddle back up and ride on with my faith again and in time I did. Sometimes, the simplest of constructs can seem so profound.... but be SO DIFFICULT to execute!
Before Merv left to attend to the other suffering woman outside the door, he prayed for me and with me. When he finished he told me the prayer he shared brought to mind a favorite psalm of his: psalm 91, verse 4. He said, "Picture this for me...a mother hen senses danger near and lifts her wings to gather all her chicks underneath to protect them. Wouldn't it feel good to be one of those baby chicks, safe and warm? Psalm 91, verse 4 reads: He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart."
For our remaining days at the hospital, I never forgot those words or the beauty of that visual. I still carry the psalm in my purse with me. Merv picked me up that day, dusted me off and reminded me of my choices. I had important work ahead of me and needed to get back to it. Which I did and I am! We all need reminders sometimes, new awakenings to old truths. I thank Merv for waking me back up.
Our daughter is in full swing now after her nearly fatal stroke. Though still on crutches, this weekend she went to her friend Zakia’s birthday party and to the Blazer Fan Appreciation night.