A few days ago I wrote about Love that does not hurt: love that is patient, kind and does not injure or demean. It is such love that God extends to us.
Last night as I was getting ready for an early night, I have a killer cold, three young girls knocked on my front door. Since I was in my night clothes I asked Herbert to put them off. But he came in my room: “Mom I think it is urgent, they are all crying.” So I put my clothes back on and went into the other room to see what had happened.
It was Reyna one of my dearest girls who graduated from sixth grade last year, her older sister and their little first grade sister Jesi. They had just returned from Guatemala City where they had left Jennifer the middle sister in intensive care. Jenny as we call her is the exact opposite of Reyna. Reyna is outgoing, has tons of friends, loves to dance and is a giggler by trade. Jenny is a quiet book worm. Jenny is the kind of child that goes through life without making noise. She is always obedient, always does her homework and always behaves. Jenny hides from the limelight preferring a quiet corner and a good book to read.
The girls were terrified. Jenny had awakened with intense pain in her legs and an increasing weakness. Their mother thinking it was the flu had gone on to the city to a business appointment. About noon Jenny worsened to the point that she could not move her extremities and Priscilla the fifteen year old sister in charge took her to our local doctor. He was extremely alarmed and sent the girls straight to the hospital in the fire department ambulance.
To make a long story short it appears that Jennifer has Guillian Barre syndrome an autoimmune disease that is extremely rare and causes muscular paralysis in ever increasing degree. What terrified these dear girls was that their cousin had the same disease and spent over a year in the hospital and even today still struggles with the side effects. Two different times the doctors told their aunt to prepare the funeral for their cousin because they did not expect him to make it through the night. And now their sister has the same rare disease.
My house was on their way home and they came here for me to give them hope. As I held the three girls in my arms we cried and prayed together. Forgotten was my early night as I tried to comfort and reassure three frightened little girls while at the same time my heart was breaking thinking about little Jenny lying alone and frightened in a strange hospital bed hooked up to a machine that breathed for her and countless monitors. Her brain functions perfectly but her body can’t respond.
When the children left reassured and comforted I broke down and the tears flowed freely. Recently a friend of mine said to me that she was kind of glad that she had never had children because she had seen parents suffer so much with their children’s pain. But then she has never experienced the supreme joy that loving a child brings as well.
Sometimes love hurts. It hurts when life is not fair. It hurts when sickness strikes. It hurts when those we love are in pain. It hurts when there is no answer why?
Yet without suffering we would never know the joy of the presence of God and being held in His loving arms. Without the rain flowers would not grow. Without the fire silver would not shine.
I ask your prayers for Jenny and her family.
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