My apologies for my long delay in writing for my blog. I could easily write about the many activities that have filled the last few months, and I might eventually, but I instead want to reflect on some of the stories from the past few months.
At a laity retreat recently, I sat down at the back of the tent knowing that I would need to leave shortly for a night call shift. I came with the desire to support the community, not necessarily expecting much before I had to leave. As the tent started to fill up, a group of young men filled up the row in front of me. Within the highlands of Papua New Guinea there is a crisis currently among the young men. So many are being led into harmful addictions to drugs and alcohol by slightly older role models. For the many who are unable to finish school (for many different reasons including family instability, lack of school fees, not passing entrance examinations, etc), there is very little to look forward to in the future. There is a generation of young men with little hope, full of anger and disillusionment. My heart has often broken for this group. However, as the music began for the retreat, the group of young men in front of me began to sing, and not just to sing, but to worship with fervor and life. I found myself weeping, unable to sing, moved by the faithfulness of these young men. They had found life in the midst of the darkness.
My life flows on in endless song;
Above earth’s lamentation,
I hear the sweet, though far-off hymn
That hails a new creation
Through all the tumult and the strife,
I hear that music ringing
It finds an echo in my soul
How can I keep from singing?
I held her shoulder as she softly broke into tears, her hand stretching towards but not reaching her dead baby. He had come early and struggled to breathe right from the beginning. We had tried all that we were able, antibiotics, oxygen, IV sugar solution and medication to try to help him keep breathing. When he had stopped breathing, the nurses called me and we had tried CPR, to no avail. My words failed as I squeezed her shoulder, trying to convey my sorrow and support. I learned from the nurses that she had lost her last child as well. I mourned with her at the side of the warmer.
What though my joys and comforts die?
I know my Savior liveth
What though the darkness gather round?
Songs in the night he giveth
No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that refuge clinging
Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth
How can I keep from singing?
A few days later in that same nursery, I congratulated a young mother on the growth of her baby. The baby had been in the nursery a while but was finally big enough to go outside and sleep with her. The young mother next to her reached over a gave her a fist bump, a recognition of her hard work and the solidarity of the mothers working side by side to help their little ones. My heart lifted at the encouragement from this impromptu community.
I lift my eyes, the cloud grows thin
I see the blue above it
And day by day this pathway smooths,
Since fist I learned to love it,
The peace of Christ makes fresh my heart
A fountain ever springing
For all things are mine since I am his
How can I keep from singing?
Through hard times, God has continued to be present. Through an immense workload, He has continued to provide just enough energy and strength. Through others, He has provided encouragement at the right times. How can I keep from singing?
