On Monday I spent the day doing home-based care in Belfast. I visited a woman named Gloria. She's 34 years old, lives with her brother, and has two children (7 and 10). She was brutally thin and ill. She wasn't even lying in her bed, but rather on the floor. She was in incredible pain. She was shaking and breathing quick and shallow. She really really touched my heart. All I could do was sit on the ground next to her and hold her hand. I tried to speak to her but would choke mid-sentence. I prayed for her: for peace, for rest, and for protection and comfort for her children. As soon as I started praying for her children, she looked up at me with deeply deeply sorrowed eyes and I couldn't do anything but completely break. I promised her I would continue to pray for her and especially pray that she has rest that night.
I can't imagine what it would be like, as a child, to watch your mother slowly die.
I can't imagine what it would be like, as a mother, to know your children are watching you slowly die.
"How can I give you up [Africa]?
...
My heart is changed within me;
all my compassion is aroused."
Hosea 11:8
I found out Gloria died that night. As sad as it is, when I left her home, I truly felt like God would answer my prayer by taking her that night. Before I left the house, I felt the need to pray for her brother, as he was the one taking care of her and the kids. I prayed for strength and now he really needs it.
I think of Gloria's last night. She was touched, hugged, and loved. She was not alone.
She touched me deep and her situation hit me hard, and I can't seem to help but ask, "How many are left alone..?"
