He Touched Me

I have been reminded recently over and over again that the Lord works not through the poised and "perfect" preacher, nor through the polished and able messenger. He works through the weak and burdened, the pained and disabled, those whose lives are testaments to sorrow. I have a friend whose life is so sad that I cry when I think about the mess he has gone through. His childhood, his younger life, his life in this moment, is all a representation of the cruelty and ugliness of mankind. I am heartbroken to think of what happened to him as a child, and to know what happens to him day to day, to know of his persecution and judgment by "friends", to see how his injuries are leaving him more and more debilitated every day. Yet through it all, through the persecution of the church, the judgment of his family, the cruelty of his past, he still holds on to God, still calls out to the One who is his only friend at times, still believes in the love and mercy and grace of the Lord. That is how I know what faith is, and that is how I know how to love those who are left to the wayside of humanity's social condition.

My aunt died right before Easter after having lived a life which I can only describe as difficult. Having lost a son when he was eight years old, only to raise two daughters who suffered from the same genetic disease which had claimed Christopher, Tia Meme ended up with uterine cancer which spread through her body to become tumors on her brain and spine. Her end was just as difficult as the duration of her life. This could lead us to questions. Why the unfairness of her death? Why did she have to struggle her entire life only to end up struggling in her last moments, dying a painful death? She did not go easily in her sleep, enveloped in drugs and comforted by sleep; she fought for every last breath until the very end. What, then, was the point? At her funeral, the preacher called upon the mourners to step forward to speak words, and nobody did. I was at the end of my pew, and though the words were forming in my heart, my legs faltered in stepping out to speak on her behalf. Here is what I would have said had I been brave enough to go up there:

The Lord works through the people we least expect Him to work through. The woman at the well, the prodigal son, the leper, the thief. All were people who were burdened by various sorrows. My Tia Manuela led a difficult and burdened life, and her death was no less difficult. One moment, though, which I shared with her will forever remain in my heart as a testimony to her unwavering faith and the Lord's love. I went to visit her on a Sunday, the morning of my departure from Lubbock. The snow was thick and frozen on the streets, and my hands were numb with cold. When I arrived in her warm hospital room, I saw her smooth skin, the stitches from the surgeon's hands criss-crossing her forehead, underneath which a tumor had recently been removed from on top of her brain, and I hoped that she might find ease and comfort finally. I leaned over to tell her goodbye, to tell her that I would be going back to Austin that day and so I wouldn't be able to visit her again very soon. When I put my hand in hers, she rubbed my fingers, as though to give me warmth, and she said, "Your hands are so cold! Be careful on your way back."

For a woman who was suffering, who was in pain and confusion and under great duress and stress, to find it in her heart to care for this virtual stranger leaning over her was almost too much for my heart to understand. I had never been close to her, though I enjoyed her company just as much as any other aunt or uncle. Yet here she was, taking care of me in these little ways, sending me off with this gesture of care, rubbing my cold hands with her warm ones. She touched me, and in that caress, I knew it was the Lord touching me as well, sending me off with concern for my welfare and knowledge that someone cared that I was cold. This one moment, this tender reminder of the Lord's presence, is enough to remind me that Tia Meme's life was not in vain. It was not for naught.

One thing my mom always said in those weeks that Tia Meme was dying was that she was probably the most saved person she knew. When they discovered the tumor wasn't a stroke, Tia Meme took it as a sign that the Lord was not done with her life after all. She fought to continue to live because she felt she needed to take care of her daughters. Her life was a testament to God's love. He cares for us through the people we see burdened the most. He speaks through those we see in pain, those we see who still hope even as they lay dying, who still love even as they suffer, who still smile and send us off with care even as they know it might be the last time they see us.

Tia Meme loved the Gaithers. She requested that we play their music throughout her service which would be the day between Good Friday and Easter. My mom left it up to me to pick the songs, and as I went through the music, there was one song that I knew for sure must be played. I didn't know the relevance, the connection to what I would come to understand as God's work, the need to have this song played at just that moment, but I see it now. He is still touching me, and now I hope you realize that you have been touched by Him, too.

(start it around the :50 mark, and don't forget to pause the music player to watch this one)