Doing dishes I found myself channeling my inner Brother Lawrence. I was trying to help at our churches local warming shelter during the cold snap. Seeking the solace and comfort found only in the love of God. Praying, yearning for some sense of his presence, all the while flinching at every move.
Every sound made me wonder if the man (let's leave his name out of this) who was battling schizophrenia was hitting his breaking point. After looking at pictures on the wall accusing them of being how we watched him, as well as his attempts to rile me up, asking me over and over if I wanted to go outside...every noise had me checking the kitchen window. One of the other guests calmed him down but he began to pace and fidget with everything.
I found myself asking the Lord to be incredibly present, to be my calm, be my courage, grant me grace upon grace. And still every flush of the toilet I could hear through the wall, every open and close of the door to outside, every step someone would take I found myself flinching looking out the door window, then the back door in case he had looped around the building in an effort to surprise me...
...and it came to me...
This rush of understanding.
Sadness.
This feeling, this being on edge, this paranoia...just might be a taste of what he feels when he is off his meds as he was tonight. For a few moments, the edginess seemed to me a lesson. A hard one. A reminder of the pain of our world. Be it Aleppo. Be it Sudan. Be it Flint. Be it Standing Rock. Be it gangs. Be it the drug trade. Be it the sex trade. Pain is everywhere. The sting, the stench, the reminders of the effects of sin permeate our lives. And it was a reminder of how often we do all we can to shield ourselves, shield our children from it.
And that's when my mind floated to my children. Still young, unknown who they will be when they head out on their own. Their personalities starting to emerge. Their individual passions and joy coming out. And with that, their pain too. I would do anything to shield them from pain, to make their lives as pain-free, sin stench and sin sting free as possible!! And I shudder at the reality that I am powerless to do so.
Dear God. Thank you for my family. Thank you for Mom and Dad and Dom and Mia. Thank you that we are all here, together as one family.
The prayer of my middle child echoing in my ears. The prayer of my child who over the past months had an awakening of questions about his birth parents, his process towards adoption. The prayer of my child reminding me of the glimpses of the Kingdom of heaven. Where God makes a family where there was no family. Where glimpses of grace echo within my ears and heart.
I left the kitchen. Put all the cups back in their place, sat down to read my book. Things were calm again, our friend came over, apologized, put a blanket on the man sleeping next to me. Then he went back and laid on the floor, presumably to rest. Seeming to know for those few moments that this church he was in was safe, was warm, and a place where he didn't have to fear.
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