Sounds of Hope

That night was very long, extremely long. After midnight, he was not supposed to eat in preparation for surgery the next day. I remember trying to cuddle and soothe him during the night. We had a family bed and he was not used to sleeping in the crib. We were both uncomfortable; I on the cot trying to sleep and he in the crib fussing. Very early in the morning we prepared to take that long walk and elevator ride to the surgical suite. This time it couldn’t be long enough. I wondered what it would be like to have a child with no eye. I worried I wouldn’t know how to take care of it. I knew I would have to. My husband had no stomach for such things. He never changed one diaper for any of the children. He certainly wasn’t going to take care of an empty eye socket. The words of the woman haunted me. I had called my best friend at the church. She had called the people to prayer. I knew people were praying. Yet, I wondered. Would my disbelief sentence my child to life without his right eye...

We came back from Tulsa with just a little more information. It was late summer. It was time to go back to St. Louis. I come from a Christian tradition that does not baptize infants. Rather we dedicate them as Hannah did Samuel. My husband chose to never participate in these experiences. At the time he assumed that a dedication made them permanently Christian – oh that it would! I had opted to participate in this ritual alone with each of our children. Bethany was the first one that I dedicated alone. Her father having beaten and deserted me when I was pregnant with her, I had no choice. Our pastor at the time had my mother participate. It was just so difficult for the church to deal with a single mother in those days. (Read about her birth here and the beating here .) I remember he used the passage from Timothy about Timothy’s Mother Lois and Grandmother Eunice . He did do a wonderful job. Now it was time to take my son alone. I was rather used to this by now but I never liked it....

As I wait…wait…waiting is hard. I’ve waited for many thing in my life. I don’t like to wait. I’ve written before about waiting on another blog I author, you can read it here . Like the ordinary day I long to return, today is not ordinary waiting. In pastoral care class, we learned that there are two Christian views of death.  God rarely gives us one option. I sometimes wish God would be more absolute. It seems the saying that God puts comas rather than periods is true. One view of death is that it is the enemy that must be conquered. As we approach Easter, we will sing Up from the grave He arose with a might triumph o’er His foes . Our songs of triumph will echo Christ’s triumph over the death and grave. Healing, whether medical or spiritual, wants to prolong life and conquer death. From the search for the Fountain of Youth to late night TV infomercials we cling to life. From the latest advances in science to the latest book on how to receive healing, we challenge death. Death ...

I heard a sermon one time by a man named Booze, an odd name for a preacher. He wasn’t very skilled, educated or articulate. I heard him in a storefront church in the tiny town of Auxvasse Missouri. The church had become a hotbed of Charismatic activity in the mid-70’s. Why I remember him and his sermon I don’t know? He preached about a pendulum. He said that the pendulum of Christian expression swings. He cautioned that while we were experiencing renewal and freedom, we would eventually return to a more subdued expression of our faith. He didn’t want us to lose our zeal. I was young. I thought I would never lose my zeal. He was wise. Zeal eventually is tempered by the realities of life. At times, I long for the days of zealous enthusiasm and exuberant expressions of faith. I have been tempered by the harshness and tragedy that life brings all of us. To leave this part of the story out would make the story incomplete. I find myself concerned to tell it. I have never been concerned be...