Dirt in the Grave

This has sat in my mind for well over a month and a half now…I thought the feeling would pass, and yet after two months I am still thinking on this subject. Have you ever had a moment wherein you see or hear something, and know that very event or moment is indelibly in your memory for a lifetime?

Two months ago a friend of mine and fellow worker here, at Homes of Hope died.

As is common in cultures the world over, we went to bury my friend several days following her death. Before we buried her, we dressed her, clothing her cold and stiff body. And later, this lasting moment of sheer clarity came as my friend’s body, in her casket, was lowered by steady hands deep into the earth. There was no pretty, fake grass hiding the yawning grave. Nor did we listen to a pastor pray and speak, and then walk to our respective cars to attend a potluck, well before the cemetery attendants would lower the casket into the ground, lest we see that final moment where the casket is placed in the ground and covered by dirt.

Instead, my friend, in her casket was steadied by the hands of the men of Homes of Hope as they struggled and strained to lower her gently into the earth. Once there, they climbed out of her grave, and we sang as fistfuls of dirt were thrown on top of the casket. And then the shovels were picked up by our men, dressed in their Sunday best for our dear friend’s honor, and together they shoveled the dirt to fill the grave as voices rose in sorrow to a good God whom has claimed our friend back to Him.

That sharp and instant moment I spoke of above: The act of burying our dead.

I have grown up in a time and place wherein am removed from death in such a way that I would only see a perfectly made up body of a loved one. I cannot think of a time where I experienced seeing a body lowered by family into a grave. How far from death I have lived, even as it has claimed family and friend.

Stunningly for me, how cathartic I found the act of watching my friend lowered by strong men into the ground, and then covered by Fiji’s red clay. In that moment, my friend was truly gone, and I knew this irrevocably.

I wonder if we are missing something deeply important when we are so far removed from death. The clarity for me of which I will remember is the completion of seeing her buried; quite freeing for me, actually. 

Misplaced Climbing Gear

Thanks for the shove, my Friend…You know who you are.

The Mountain:

What happens when I am committed to achieving something and I fail? How many myriad ways are there with which folks confront failure?

Some see challenge in the mountain ahead of them.

For others, those like me, we see the “mountain” and succumb to the overwhelming feeling of the effort in front of us. In fact, we think maybe it is better to take a seat and watch the elevation climb into the horizon rather than attempt the “climb” that may or may not end in failure.

The Bush I’m Beating Around:

My head has been revolving around the subject of Self-Discipline, and as I imply above, my lack thereof. I struggle greatly in remaining disciplined with communicating with family, friends, and supporters as I live and work in a country and culture not my own.

The Why:

Because I enjoy analyzing or simply because I want to know the “whys” of most everything I ask myself why I am challenged by communicating with those whom love and support me. After all, I return the love and value; a deep desire is that I maintain the value and love of these. So, I ask myself why I do not follow through with the communicating:

1)      What if I have nothing to say or teach? As a teacher and as a woman who catches the esteem of some, I assassinate myself if I have nothing “worthy” or significant to teach by doing nothing at all. What if I have nothing of value-so you, those I love and respect will find me smart, responsible, and worthy of supporting.?

2)      What if I am simply lazy? How embarrassing.

3)      What if this whole struggle I speak of has its foundation in pride? How gross. How humbling.

How human. When my mind gets caught up in this revolving door I am reminded how my aim is caught up pleasing man. Now I am thusly reminded once more that it is the pleasure of the LORD, who is my Dwelling Place that I shall pursue. (Psalm 90)

So there you have it, a moment of transparency after a draught of communication.

Crazed Lions

Oh, come in! Come in! Join me in my head for a few moments…
My mind is simply swamped with her…Her. I have to tell you about her.

In the two months since I have returned home to Fiji I have been blown over by the nature of God to sustain life. One new mum has come from the pits of the sex trade here in Fiji. Another has buried a baby.
And thenthere is Esther.

To our knowledge Esther has never received any formal education. Esther is deaf and mute; she has created her own sign language to communicate basic needs to those around her. Esther has come to us because she has been greatly abused and is 7 months pregnant. Esther is 17.

Oh, the horrors that this young lady has likely experienced.
Oh, how I could hate humanity right now, humanity that is composed of creatures that take advantage of the most vulnerable and simple.

Oh, but my God will not let my head remain in the darkness. Instead I linger in the Beauty. Oh, the beauty of a Crazed God.

Oh God, Your Esther has nothing but joy. She runs everywhere. She smiles at everyone. She hugs and showers her affections on all. She yearns to be touched, thrives in learning and living.
I call her Esther, (Not her real name) because it is the name in Heaven You have given her, for she is Queen. Esther is the orphan that you have set aside, loved, and destined for greatness.

Oh, God, only You take the horrors and shape extraordinary divinity-laced people.

Oh, You Lion of Judah, You ferocious Leonie God who takes the dust and breaths life. You have taken this girl-child-woman and given a sweetness that is incorruptible, innocence that will not be stolen, persistence that prevails against evil, beauty that is not for the ages but for eternity.

I ache for what the days bring concerning Esther. My mind reels with what will come…soon she will give birth, but You see God, Esther cannot possibly care for her child in a safe and level method. I wonder, how can we, how can I possibly take one more thing from this woman? This girl who has been stripped of her rights to her body, this child who has spent her life controlled
by others, I am to be a part of staking one more thing from her…her child.

Oh, You Lion. I hear you now. I hear you: I have given her a voice. I am taking care of her. I am caring for her. Hush your wonderings. Hush your wanderings. I have painted the flowers in the field. I feed the birds. I see them. I see you. I see Esther. So be still. Esther will know greatness because no one can tell her she is not good enough, because she cannot listen. Despite everyone I Am. I Am for Esther.

Thank you, Crazed God. You make so little sense to me. For this I am thankful.
Amen.