this broken world

i just spent an hour reading the blog of a woman who just lost her two-and-a-half-year-old son to a horrible disease that took his life slowly; she and her husband lovingly watched him over the course of several months, and held him as little by little, all his body's functions shut down. she is a complete stranger to me. we are linked only by a mutual friend, whose blog i just discovered and mentioned this woman's story in one of her posts. though she is a stranger, she is a believer, and that connects us in a way that only believers can understand.

the anguish she describes is something i can only imagine in the deepest place of my soul. as a mother, i can think of nothing more painful than watching my child die. it shouldn't happen. it isn't right. we give birth to our babies, we feed them from our own bodies, and then we watch them die? it isn't how it's supposed to be. as i read the experiences she and her husband had as they said goodbye to little judson, i wept. it reminded me how vulnerable we all are, how frigile our health. how much pain there is in this broken world.

though not as painful as losing a child, my family of origin is filled with sickness. my dad is on oxygen 24 hours a day. he is in constant pain from polymyalgia and has to limit his activities each day. my sister has had several brain surgeries in the past few years and still suffers headaches from a rare condition known as chiari malformation. and everyday these past few weeks my mom drives to whittier presbyterian hospital for radiation treatment following breast cancer surgery. it has been a very difficult few years for my family.

as for me, my health is good. i took up road biking last year, and i think one of the reasons i love it so much is that when i ride i feel healthy, and, especially as i see all the sickness that surrounds me, i am so thankful for my health.

i love that in just a few hours i can ride through nine different cities on a vehicle without a motor. on chilly mornings, i love to head up our driveway, not knowing where i will go or what i will see or whether or not i will get a flat tire or have a wipeout. i love the click of the gears as i quickly shift when i head downhill. i love the feel of my legs burning as i stand and pump myself up a steep hill. i love the smells of the trees, the cars, the restaurants i pass. i am someplace new. i don't know what the next moment will bring. i am alive.

i have always loved this kind of adventure, but i wonder if it isn't even more important to me now that the lives of my family seem to be shrinking. is this my way of trying to stave off sickness, disease and death? does it feel extra good to feel the burn in my lungs as i ride, knowing that without oxygen, my dad has to gasp for air? am i trying to breathe for him? am i trying to make sure that i can keep breathing?

it struck me today as i read this mother's blog that everybody experiences the world's brokenness, just in different ways and at different times. i don't think for a minute that all trials are equal. they aren't. some are so painful that they shake us to our core and take us to the brink of our faith in a way that not everybody has to/gets to experience. and others take their time in our lives, like embers, slowing burning away the splintery edges of our hearts almost without our even noticing. yet, the older i get the more i understand that God gives us exactly what we need to make us more like Him. each one of us. our own, unique set of groanings, tailor made by God to conform our spirit to His, for our good and His glory. some of us are plagued by illness, handicaps and death--trials of the body. and others of us wrestle with emotional pain, depression, anxiety--trials of the soul. and for those of us with healthy body today, it may be gone tomorrow.

tomorrow, out riding, i could get hit by a truck. or one of our healthy children could get really sick and die. we just don't know.

in this broken world there is only one thing i know for sure, "my hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteous...on Christ the solid rock i stand, all other ground is sinking sand. all other ground is sinking sand.