Staying in the hospital with your child changes your perspective on life. In my experience the goings on of the world become a lot less important. From the daily tasks of home life to the political landscape, it all gets set in its correct place. When someone you love is in the hospital, or in need of dire attention and care, your vision becomes honed in on healing.
When I was with our daughter after her first surgery I felt like I had unearthed a sixth sense. Any change in her breathing was an indication of comfort or discomfort. Whenever a nurse would walk in I would ask questions and give all the information I had in order to make her care smoother.
During this time I was exhausted. As we entered our second night Maggie was doing very well and I was ready for a deep sleep. My husband had already taken the day shift while I took lots of naps; and by 7pm it was my turn again. At that point our daughter wasn’t willing to sleep in the bed alone so I just cradled her in a rocking chair surrounded by pillows and wires.
We sat and rocked and she slowly went to sleep and I rested my head against the back of the rocker. Around that time I could hear another patient being wheeled into the pediatric wing. I could hear some moaning and nurses speaking as they went by. An hour after I settled into a half-sleep I heard a sound that still echoes in my head and breaks my heart. It was the voice of a young boy, similar to that of my own 7 year old son yelling out the most gut wrenching cry, “MOM!!! MOM!!! MOM!!!” It was a cry of fear and a desperate plea for help. He cried like this for 15 minutes. I could hear the nurses leave their station and go to his room where they likely administered some medication to relax him. Slowly, his cries became quieter and quieter and then it was silent. I cried and prayed for the boy and his family and settled back into relaxation until the next hour when he cried out again. From sunset into the next day, that boy repeated his cry for his mom almost every hour.
I think about that boy and his mom a lot. I think about what it would be like to have your child cry out to you and not be able to give them what they need. I think about how, even with a limited cognitive state, his heart and soul was crying out for the relationship that could ease what he was feeling. He wasn’t naming a fear, he wasn’t telling people to stop, he was crying out for the love of his mom.
When we left the hospital after that first surgery I was forever changed realizing what goes on in hospitals every day. The pain, the suffering, the waiting, the praying, the families, the relationships and all of life’s priorities getting rightly ordered through trial, if even just for a moment. It’s humbling to realize that I lived so long without knowing the world of families who practically live in the hospital.
Because of our experience my heart reaches out to other families. Because of our experience our kids excitedly pray for young children who are in the hospital, constantly asking me to update them on how they are doing. This shared experience of suffering has made these people seem like family. The power of the pain we bear has born unity among us.
This ironic truth is why we remember Christ on the cross again and again. When He is in the garden of Gethsemane Jesus prays to His Father that we may all be one and then He did the one thing to make us one. The cost of being one wasn’t the Pharisees stoning and punishing, the cost of being one wasn’t offering sacrifice and money in the Temple, the cost of being one wasn’t Peter cutting off the ear of the servant, the cost of being one was Jesus’ death on the cross.
As Catholic who embrace the Lord weekly, if not daily, we have to ask ourselves: What are we doing to further Jesus’ desire that we may all be one? Are we suffering together? Are we using our experiences of suffering to help us listen in compassion? Are we communicating in a way that builds? Do we hear the cries of the suffering for what it is? I wonder if the people who are yelling the loudest are the same as the little boy down the hall screaming out for his mom. Are they just scared, confused and desperate for real comfort? What will we give them? Will we be like the nurses who tirelessly went to his room to provide what he really needs, will we be like his mom who sat there and listened to his cries? Will we let animosity rise in our hearts when we hear the cries and will we shut our ears when they speak?
Tonight I was reflecting on John 8 and how the Pharisees brought the adulterous woman to Jesus. Their goal was to get Jesus to take a side, their side or her side. The woman was just a pawn. They did not care about her future but were ready to put her to death by stoning. Is it me, or is this what is happening right now in America? Are we being used by people (both sides) who claim to know what’s right and are calling for condemnation of the other half of America but want us to do the stoning? Are we murdering people with a hate in our hearts that is only going to condemn us too?
I appreciate all of you who demonstrate what it is to live the Gospel and deliver truth and charity in the same breathe. I appreciate all of you tirelessly reach out to those who are walking a journey that you once walked in an effort to bring healing. You are witnesses and you will be the ones on the other side of this craziness helping us to bring sanity back into this world.
Father, I am sorry for all the ways that I have ever caused division, among my friends, in my family, in my neighborhood, in my city and in my country. Help me to hold my tongue when I am upset, and give me the ability to speak Truth in charity in order to unify and heal so that I can help accomplish your dying prayer.
Two for Joy 