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God's hands

Friday, March 20, 2009

Hosea 14:3-9
We will never again say 'Our gods' to what our own hands have made, for in You the fatherless find compassion ... What more have I to do with idols? ...

Who is wise? He will realize these things. Who is discerning? she will understand them. Straight are the paths of the Lord; in them the just walk, but sinners stumble in them.

When I can do no more, I fall down on my knees.

For the last three mornings I've been delivering early morning papers (like ... 4 AM-type morning ...) to businesses around Champaign-Urbana. The last place I stop is Covenant Hospital. I got a little lost in there the first morning and ended up in the chapel.

Quiet. Empty at 5 AM, and beautiful the chapel was. The lights were low, the colors bright and Jesus' face looked down on me. I couldn't stay long, and I haven't been back the last couple of days, because the papers actually went to offices down another hall.

I'm substituting on this route for my friend Sheri. Her son Conley, who is 6 years old, had surgery inside his heart on Wednesday morning at the children's hospital in Peoria. The doctors cleaned up some blockage in his aortic valve and removed some of a too-large muscle under the valve. He's been hooked up to IV's for 48 hours, getting "food" and pain-killers and antibiotics.

Sheri said his skin looks great. His heart is working better, maybe better than it ever has. He'll get up and start moving around a little today, she hopes.

Yesterday Conley was pretty unhappy. He hurt a lot. He complained. His dad and grandma are there, his brothers are there. But he probably took out most of his pain out on his mom, like kids always do. This morning Sheri said she was exhausted. She doesn't know what to do when Conley needs her help. We prayed together on the phone.

"Don't worry about me," she said. "I'll muddle through."

I thought how easy it is to take credit for success, to look at the works of my hands and think how able and strong and smart I am. My psychologist tells me that's the result of high self-esteem; I should aim for that kind of self-congratulation. Feel good about myself.

That's not possible for Sheri today. Sitting beside him powerless, she just can't do anything to help her son. Except listen to him cry, and cry her own tears to mix with his.

"Muddling" is such a humble way to live through something like this. No call for success, for ability or intelligence or even strength, really ... just hanging in there, doing the right thing, waiting to see what happens next. "Straight are the paths of the Lord; in them the just walk." I don't need to ask questions, just keep walking.

You know everything I'm going through, Lord. You sit with me and hold me in your big hands and love me. You are with me walking in the wilderness, and you know exactly where I'm going.



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