While I hold her hand

[This was written in July 2018]

I hold her hand. Gently, because her hand seems fragile. I don't want to hurt her. Her 90 years of age shows. She is very weak and very ill. I am unsure if she is asleep, at least she is not giving any signs of being conscious. There are flies flying around her. I am questioning whether she feels the little fly taking rest on her face. I try to free her from them, but they keep coming back. She is heavy breathing. It seems like every breath is a struggle for her. As if living is not something you just do, but something you fight for. With every breath she makes a sound, it is almost a babbling sound that reminds me of the babies I have once held in my arms. I am sitting with her. You could say it's a waste of time to keep somebody company who is not even aware of the company itself, someone you don't even know. But is she really not aware of my company? How can they be so sure of it? I don't know what she is feeling or thinking. Only God knows. But I don't want her to feel alone in it. Whether she is a aware of my company or not. God stays by me always, even when I am not aware of His company.

I hold her hand. Her skin is not only wrinkled, but almost covered in this pattern of life. Her tongue is hanging out of the corner of her mouth. She has no teeth. All she owns is her bed and her little bedside table, and all there is on that table is medicine. No pictures. Nothing. I start talking to her. She doesn't respond. It's interesting how it can be so uncomfortable to talk to someone who doesn't respond. I wonder how often God feels this way, when we shut the door or just ignore Him. We are made for dialogues, not monologues.

I hold her hand, not sure if she feels it. I imagine her youth. How different she must have looked like. I imagine my loved ones in this state. I cannot bear the thought of it. I cannot help my feel the urge to just sit here and cry. God, where is this woman's dignity? Why didn't you let her keep more of herself? Why do you let the beauty of Your creation fade away? I look at her, and try to picture how much have been taken away from her. Maybe she was dressing fashionably, maybe she was a mother of 5 children, or maybe she didn't even have children? Maybe she did lots of sports? Maybe she liked to paint and loved to spend every free moment to paint beauty that she saw? Maybe she liked to cook and was known for her delicious lasagna? Maybe she was known for being spontaneous and traveled whenever she could? That's the thing. I don't know. All I see now is a person. I don't see her wealth, her status, there's not much to put in the box of 'identity'. So what is her identity, God?

I hold her hand. Not just this 90-year old woman's hand. But the hand of the 22 year old woman she ones was, too. Maybe we would have been great friends. Maybe we would have a lot in common, or maybe we would have had nothing in common. All I know is that I am too limited to see all of her, and I feel humbled by how limited my vision and understanding is. I only see a little piece of her life, of her as a person. Only a little part. She has been and is still much more than what I see. But God allows me to see a little bit clearer, to see a little bit more, to understand a tiny bit more of the endless dignity she carries. For a second I see God looking at her, not the way I look at her. He sees much more. I am amazed. And I suddenly overwhelmed by beauty. The beauty of creation. Not a single piece of her dignity or identity has been taken away. She is just as whole as she has always been. Just because I can't see everything, it doesn't mean that it's not there. She is being prepared for something much better. She was made for more than the vanity of this world. Her wedding dress is being sewed for her to enter the Heavenly kingdom as the Bride she is. The little girl in her is ready to come home. Home where she belongs. Calvary does not last forever. And I picture Jesus who is waiting, almost in tears. He knows her every struggle, He knows her every up and every down, her every little step on this earth. I there against know nothing, but God invites me to partake in this suffering. To just be with Him on Calvary for a while. To just be together. The three of us.

I hold her hand. And in her eyes - I see Jesus. I hesitate, I am a bit overwhelmed. I hesitate to see Him. To see Him in her. But there He is! He is not afraid of humanity. And He invites me to take a leap in faith. To open my eyes for the joy that is reigning in this room. I look around me. And I am surprised - to see that this room is secretly filled with angels, singing the entrance song for this beautiful wedding that is about to happen. The joy of expectation for what is to come is filling the room. The goal awaits. Heaven awaits.

And while I have been holding this woman's hand, I feel that Jesus has been holding mine - showing me a glimpse of His beauty. It is not what I thought it would be. It is not wrapped up in fine paper and silk ribbons. It is a beauty wrapped up in weakness and suffering - by Jesus' blood itself. And He shows me the beauty of walking through this pilgrimage on earth - that we are heading towards something truly amazing. To a place we can call our home. To the place that has always been our home. And there He is, the Bridegroom waiting for us with a passionate love. The One who loves us. The One who not only holds our hand for awhile, but who always has and always will hold our hand.