I didn't quite know what to do in that moment. She sat next to me, tears pouring down her cheeks, sitting with her knees drawn to her chin, and her arms wrapped around her knees. This is not an easy position to hold in one of those old-school unpadded wooden church pews.
I already knew things were not going well, that her life, like mine, had taken a drastic downturn in the past couple of weeks, and that survival was the only real goal - not thriving, but just making it from one moment to the next. We had spoken for only a few moments, but her trembling body, her haunted eyes and her words told me much about the state of life and emotion she was facing.
I wanted to wrap my arms around her, but hesistated for a moment. A thousand things played through my mind. The first was one my mother taught me long ago - victims of abuse don't always welcome being held. And, a far more shameful thought - she struggles with bisexuality, and I am slightly afraid to hold her.
And yet, I did, I wrapped my arms around her, buried my face in her shoulder and held her. I felt I had very little to offer but my physical presence, and could only hope that it would be some comfort. I knew I needed to pray, but felt so completely inadequate. I whispered in her ear as the music and talking went on around us. "God, take this fear - stop the nightmares. Bring healing and peace..." and a host of other prayers. My heart was shattering with every word. And yet, I felt almost hypocritical praying these things. I have prayed them so many times over my own life, and had others pray them, and nothing has happened. I said all the right words, and believed that very few of them would happen. I hoped only that they served as balm to a broken heart - as a reminder that she was not alone.
My prayer is this, that God would take this tiny mustard seed of belief. That He would honor the whispered prayers that have flowed from my mind as the images from that night have followed me into the week, haunting my thoughts. That He would hear the cry of my heart for her, for me, and not the inadequate words of my mouth. Lord, I believe, help Thou my unbelief.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
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2 comments:
Lisa- great sensitivity to the Spirit....it was exactly what was required in that moment. I was there and just want you to know that you were the incarnate Jesus in that moment. thank you for pushing past the shameful thought because we are to quick to think our motives may cause "stumbling"....don't believe it - physical touch is often healing, esp. when your motives are pure and you "see the need" for something more than words...
Corey, thanks for the encouragement. That moment was one of the most inadequate feeling ones I've experienced in a long time. That sense of having no real words but a thousand broken places in my heart that understood her heart and cried for healing. The sense of knowing that I don't hear God well, that I don't pray with the authority that some friends do, but that I was the only one there to hold her. I can only pray that it was indeed healing.
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