Calcutta (Kolkata), India #1: Heaven and Hell

India is a world of stark contrast. Wealthy and poverty-stricken. Clean and dirty. Civilized and horrifically barbaric. Healthy and diseased. Light and dark. Life and death. Good and evil.

Heaven and hell.

And what is most fascinating, is that all of this contradiction cohabitates; in the same city, on the same street, on the same block. At first glance it seems to be intermixing, blending into one, but this is only a façade. If you peel back the skin of this world to see what is underneath you won’t have to look far to see the constant conflict, the war taking place between heaven and hell.

We took a bus ride through the city a couple of days ago, two hours out into the countryside to visit a rural clinic owned by the hospital. While walking on the streets going from place to place it is easy to look at the dirt road in front of your feet and be focused on the destination, but looking out that window, I was confronted with harsh reality. I made eye contact with people on the street. The suffering runs deep in the hearts of many of the people, so deep you can feel it in the way they walk, in the way they stand, in one glance of their eyes.

Their eyes speak as to the hell they have experienced here on earth.

One woman walked up to the bus while we were stopped at one of the few traffic lights in Calcutta. She began rapping on the window begging for money. My normal response would have been to easily look away. It is what we have been conditioned to do. We are told don’t give them money or packaged food mainly because all it does is feed the crime lords who own them. And this makes sense. But here I was on this bus and I suddenly chose to look into her eyes, into her soul. And underneath it all I could clearly see it. Hell. The ache in my spirit as my chest began to burn and we pulled away and I prayed the only prayer I could think to pray in that moment, “God, save her.”

I am becoming poignantly aware of the effects of suffering to those who see it as needless and purposeless. This is the same suffering that exists in America, and yet it is not as easily hidden or covered here.

The man who is most likely in the end stage of Tuberculosis outside my window, who every morning coughs until he pukes.

The children on the street with torn clothing and precious, little, dirty faces begging for money. Sadly, they are skillful little con-artists who have been trained by sick men and women.

The woman at Mother Theresa’s Hospice House for the Destitute and Dying whose face had been completely and intentionally burned off by acid. Her mother-in-law had been displeased with her. And this is socially acceptable and common. She didn’t even have eye sockets left.

The thousands of girls being held as prisoners and solicited for sex daily within the borders of this one country. Exposed, exploited, unclean, outcasts who have had their childhoods ripped from them.

The story we heard of a tradition in a Hindu family. When a woman’s husband dies it is common and even sometimes expected for the widow to thrust herself onto the funeral pyre and burn to death.

The trash, human waste, and stray animals everywhere you look. A breeding ground for disease.

And down the street from all this mess is the wealthy community, segregated with their BMWs, expensive clothes, indoor plumbing, and air conditioning.

The Moslem “call to prayer” heard from my window several times in the day and night from the community to the left of our guest house. That eerie sound haunting my dreams and the reminder of the years of animosity and killing between the Moslems and Hindus in India.

The woman who came into a rural clinic requesting pain medications for her back. Her husband had been beating her for 20 years and divorce is not allowed in the Hindu faith. When I asked the doctor what could be done for her, he gave a hardened response that this happened all the time. There is nothing we can do. So we medicate the symptoms.

And the utter emptiness, the ache I can see and feel when I lock eyes for just an instant with someone on the street. Hell.

On this bus ride, with my eyes burning and my chest heaving, I could not suppress an overwhelming and inexplicable longing for heaven. Heaven for me and heaven for the people here. And this longing has never been stronger than I have felt here in India. In my ears played a song by Phil Wickham, with lyrics that echo the cry in my Spirit for this season.

You wrote me a letter and you signed your name
I read every word of it page by page
You said that you’d be coming, coming for me soon
Oh my God I’ll be ready for you

I want to run on greener pastures
I want to dance on higher hills
I want to drink from sweeter waters in the misty morning chill
My soul is getting restless for the place where I belong
I can’t wait to join the angels and sing
My heaven song

I hear Your voice and I catch my breath
Well done my child, enter in and rest
Tears of joy roll down my cheek
Oh it’s beautiful beyond my wildest dreams

I want to run on greener pastures
I want to dance on higher hills
I want to drink from sweeter waters in the misty morning chill
My soul is getting restless for the place where I belong
I can’t wait to join the angels and sing
My heaven song

I have been thinking a lot lately about what it means to have peace in Christ. I think I have preached this wrongly for quite some time and for that I repent. Yes it is true, that we are made whole in Christ and that we can come to him for all things. In him we can find peace and joy for the present despite our circumstances. This I believe. This however does not answer the question as to why sin still has a hold on the world; why suffering still runs rampant even in the lives of those who believe. And why this ache, even in my spirit, for complete restoration still exists. This is why I also believe that when Christ breathed his last and said “It is finished,” that this statement was an eternal one. That yes, it is for the moment, but it is also for the future. One thing has become more increasingly apparent to me recently, and that is…

That it is all riding on Christ’s return.

I tend to minimize this fact. But this is something to hope for and to long for. The end of what I see as needless suffering. Hope. Heaven.

So what does this mean for me now? This means I am to be involved in the process of preparing the world for the time when Christ will return. I am blessed to be involved in the process of bringing heaven to earth. God let your Kingdom come. A prayer I am sad to say I rarely pray. Because I often forget that the Kingdom of heaven is now, here, in this very room at this very hour. That I have the choice to bring heaven or bring hell to the world in all that I say and do each day.

The bus ride ended that day in a small rural village in the outskirts of Calcutta. We spent two hours checking blood pressures and taking heart rates of the patients who walked in. But more than that we smiled and we laughed and we tried to learn the language of the people there. We got down on our hands and knees in the dirt to play with the beautiful children and we laid bare our hearts, with open hands to serve these people. The effects were tremendous as the children followed us around the village smiling and laughing and holding our hands. The parents and adults smiled warmly, coming out from their doorways to say hello. Joy. Beauty. Heaven.

Heaven and Hell.

It is no doubt a world of contrast, but more disturbing is the reality that this war is not just external, it is a war being waged within my own heart. The darkness, the hell I possess inside of myself is no different from the darkness and hell I see here. I am saved yes, but I am being saved. And it is a slow process.

And yet, faithfully, the choice is there each and every day. Do I choose heaven or do I choose hell? And what do I bring to the world around me?

Heaven or hell.

"Thou Art Fair"

Lyrics to the most recent song I wrote for my wonderful husband, Drew. Chorus is taken from Song of Solomon, in case you didn't pick up on that :)

Verse 1:
Lifted through the front door
Rose petals carpet the floor
All that I have all I am
I give to you and receive from you
We are one
Your banner over me is love

Chorus:
Thou art fair, my love
Thou hast eyes like a dove
Thou art fair, my love
There is no spot in thee, in thee

Verse 2:
You have captivated my heart
With one glance of your eyes
My firsts and my lasts in your hands
My beloved and my friend
All you are
Is covered in the purest white (chorus)

Bridge:
We have this life together
Poured out on the altar
But tonight just hold me close
Until the day breathes and the shadows flee... (chorus)

Shape My Heart

I'm realizing a lot about myself in this first semester of nursing school:

1. I tend to move at a fast-pace, always multitasking.

This can be a good quality. I am driven and purposeful in nearly all that I do, and as a result, can get a lot accomplished. This leads me to believe that I would thrive most as a nurse in a high-intensity setting (maybe the ER?). The downside though, is that sometimes my "go-go-go" lifestyle, makes it easy to miss people.

And after all, they are the point right? I could accomplish a whole bunch of really good goals, but without taking the time to really love people, then what good is that?

"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing" (1 Corinithians 13:1-3).

2. I like to fix things.

Once again, this can be a really good quality, I am not content to just let things sit. I am not usually the friend you come to, just to vent or whine about something without intending to do something to change your situation. In fact, I saw this side of me flare up a lot while I was in the Long Term Care setting. A lot of the people there, were seeking end-of-life care and truly just needed physical, emotional, and spiritual comfort in their last days. But then were the other people. Those who had simply decided, "well, it's all downhill from here, so I'm just going to give up and stop trying." It was depressing and extremely frustrating at times. There were moments when I literally wanted to look some of them in the eye and say, "Hey! You are 70 years old. Your life is not over yet. If you go to physical therapy, exercise, eat well, and really try to get better, you probably could have another 10-15 years of quality life!" It's hard to just keep providing the physical immediate needs over and over and over again, when you know that there could be so much more! This is a lot of why I became a nurse in the first place, to help people get better. Maybe that doesn't always mean physically better, but my desire is to always inspire change.

One macro problem with this. I cannot change anyone. Only Jesus saves. I cannot forget this, because the minute I do, is the minute my ministry and effectiveness ends, and I wind up burn-out and completely empty.

3. I value my opinion much too highly.

I think that being a leader in high school ministry for so long, has had a tremendously good impact on my life, but in some ways, has also brought a lot of my ugliness to the surface. When a high schooler comes to me with questions, I listen and hear their heart, and then naturally share opinions and advice from my own life and from the truth of God's word.

It is so good for me to hold back all of my opinions in a clinical setting, and just sit and listen. Ultimately, I am not the Holy Spirit.

Human Sexuality Part 1: "The Intended"

Creation.

The word, the Logos, of God and suddenly there is something from nothing.

Light. Sky. Land. Vegetation. Sun and moon. Animals.

"And He saw that it was good."

Then He kneels in the dirt and from the dust, forms man with His very hands. Forms him in His own image and then breathes into him, the Spirit of life. He is placed in the garden as a steward to work and care for the land.

"And He saw that it was good."

Then here comes the turning point. Suddenly the Lord says, “It is not good..."
"It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him."

The word for “helper” here in the Hebrew, ezer kenegdo, has been misused and misinterpreted in many contexts over centuries. The real meaning here is simply, “counterpart.” This suggests that the man was not complete in and of himself, but was missing something. From here, the man is placed into a deep sleep and God creates the woman from the very flesh and bone of the man. As Adam awakens and for the first time beholds the beautiful sight of the woman, his immediate response is to sing.

“Bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh…”

So when God says, “a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh,” it was a very literal statement. The uniting of a man and a woman to become “one flesh” in marriage, is returning to the very beginning, when God literally created the woman from the man’s flesh. They were made to be one.

Bashar Echad. אחד בשר

One flesh.

Not only that, but in this little phrase, God was also making a profound statement about their relationship with Him, not just each other. The word, Echad, in Hebrew is also found in the Hebrew Shema, repeated by all young Jewish boys in schooling. “Hear O Israel, the Lord our God is one (Echad).” So, what God was also saying when he declared, “and they shall become one flesh,” was that the man and the woman would become one, just as God is one. That as they grow in holy intimacy with each other, they also grow in intimacy with their creator.

This concept is explored more thoroughly throughout the entirety of the New Testament as Jesus’ love for the church is metaphorically compared to the love between a bride and a bridegroom. In Ephesians, Paul addresses husbands by charging them, “ love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless.” (Eph. 5:25-27). As can be assumed by the context, the Greek word for love in this passage is “agape.” This word is all over the New Testament but most often in the context of God’s love for his people. It is a sacrificial, unconditional love. So, the husband is supposed to love his wife, “agape” her, like God “agapes” the world. The husband’s love for his wife is meant to reflect Christ’s love, which sacrificed itself in order to make the church holy, to cleanse her, to wash her with “water through the word.” All of this detailed language gives a visual image of the husband’s “agape” love bringing life, beauty, holiness, even youth to his wife. As the woman submits herself to and respects her husband, affirming him in the man that he is meant to be, his love in a sense causes her to open up like a flower and be the woman she is meant to be. What is more astounding is what can be assumed by these words. The wife submits to and respects the husband’s God-given authority because she knows that in all of his actions, he puts her life ahead of his own.

The man and the woman were created with different roles, but they are the “fullness” of each other, just as the church is the “fullness” of Christ (Eph.1:23).

So much is wrapped up in those two little words. “One flesh.”

The next verse, in Genesis chapter 2 is even more profound. Though it is often overlooked, I believe that it is the key to understanding God’s intended purpose for human sexuality.

“The man and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame” (2:25).

I think that this is it—this is what the entirety of mankind is desperately seeking: to stand before someone, completely naked in more than just the physical sense, with all of their flaws and inconsistencies exposed, and feel no shame.

Is this an underlying reason for the change in our culture's view on sexuality? Girls begin to wear less and less in an attempt to reach this desire for complete exposure and no shame. Are the basest most explicitly sexual pieces of our culture a reflection of this God-give desire for the intended relationship? I would argue yes, that a lot of what I see on billboards, in movies, in magazines, is the world crying out for this "one-flesh-naked-with-no-shame" relationship. There is an internal even subconscious recognition of how the relationship between a man and a woman is supposed to be, but at the same time there exists a deep brokenness and understanding in the world that all of this is twisted,

distorted,

fractured.

It is a result of the story which comes next in the Genesis narrative.

Bashar Echad. אחד בשר

It’s no secret. Drew and I are getting hitched. In seven months I'm going to be a PW (pastor's wife)!

And let’s be honest…

I’ve never been more excited about anything in my entire life! He is an incredible man and I feel so blessed. There is no one else I would rather walk beside, hand-in-hand, on this life-long journey of pursuing Jesus.

Ok. Now, to combat this bombardment of “how-did-he-propose” questions, I am going to write all about it on this blog. Please understand, if I refer you here to read the story, it’s because I’ve already told the story at lease 50 times and I’m starting to lose my mind. You know there’s a problem when you hardly have to think as you are telling the story because you are reciting it from memory with the exact same phrases, facial expressions, and voice intonations. So, it’s not that I don’t want to tell you, I’m just getting a little worn out because it is a long and extravagant story—not something to complain about :)

Here we go.

Early last week, he asked me out on date for Saturday night, November 15. We had already picked out my ring a month earlier and I knew he probably had it, so now every date had that hint of anticipation at the possibility of his pending proposal. But, in the days leading up to Saturday, he downplayed our date and mentioned going to a movie and keeping it low-key. So, I didn’t think twice about Saturday. Little did I know, the tricky little devil was busy busy meeting with my parents, planning and orchestrating the whole ordeal, and depriving himself of sleep. I love him.

On Saturday afternoon, after I got off work, I called him and he said “I have a lot of work to get done on my sermon for Sunday night. Do you think you could just meet me at the church? I’ll be up in the study room and you can come sit with me until I finish.”

Ha. So, I’ll admit it, I was a little annoyed. My thought was, “How lame. We’re going on a date and you’re not even going to pick me up? Really? And doing work on a Saturday? Come on. ” But of course I did the typical girl thing, I just conveyed my annoyance through my tone of voice and agreed to meet him there. Although, not without first saying, “Okay, I’ll take my time then.”

His immediate response was, “No no no! Come now…I…uh…want to show you the Logos Software up in this room.” Good save. Of course, I did not catch on at all, and drove to the church in a pissy mood.

When I got up to the room and saw a sign on the door reading, “Come in Ms. Fannin and look on the window,” it finally dawned on me. My first thought? “I’m an idiot.” Second thought? “AHHH! It’s finally happening!”

Inside the room on the window was a sign that said to call Juli in California. So I called my bestey and she read me the first of five letters documenting the entirety of our relationship. He described his thoughts in detail and eloquence at each major point in our time together.

The first letter was about the first time we met, which was in the chapel, that actually could be seen looking down through that window. It was a high school youth group dance party of which I was a leader, and I vaguely remember being absolutely crazy that night and I think even dancing to thriller. Anyhow, he wrote about how he was drawn towards me that night and saw the joy of the Lord in me. At the bottom of the letter was the first of the “fruits of the spirit” that he put on each letter.

JOY.

Next I went to Rick Sawczuck’s office, where Gabe read me the second letter about my trip to Cambodia in 2007. This chronicled the beginning of our relationship as an officially dating couple, our first “I love yous,” and the two weeks of not seeing each other. At the bottom of the letter were the words:

PATIENCE and FAITHFULNESS.

After that, was Starbucks on 75^th, where Rochelle gave me my favorite coffee and then read me the next letter. This skipped back to our first couple of coffee dates right after we met. This letter and the next two after it were slightly out of order, as they occurred before Cambodia. He did not want me to leave the church and then have to come back, so that makes sense. He wrote about first getting to know each other and how much peace and goodness he felt in spending time with me.

PEACE and GOODNESS.

Next, was Kate’s Greek Restaurant in downtown Everett, where we had our third date, progressing from coffee to lunch. Coincidentally, this was where I told him to “get lost.” Brooks and Christy were there to read the fourth letter documenting when I politely reminded him that I was 18 years old and “not interested in marriage so why would I be interested in dating?” After his initial look of terror at the revelation that he had somehow missed my age, I told him that we could no longer spend time alone. This was a typical move for me, the girl who, by choice, had never seriously dated anyone, and thought celibacy might be a wise course of action for her life. At the time, Drew was too “white-picket-fence” for me, and just simply did not fit into the plans that I had for my future adventurous life. Too bad I didn’t pay much attention to Prov. 16:9. This was the beginning of six months of little to no communication in which God worked in both of our hearts in different ways. During this time of separation and self-control, I heard his name around the church as a new up-and-coming leader and it didn’t take long for our paths to cross in ministry. Serving alongside each other in the high school group and being in the same group of friends eventually led us to express feelings and begin our relationship afresh, in a now obedient time. This was a time of listening intently to the voice of God and encouraging each other to “just keep walking.”

SELF-CONTROL.

The last letter was read by Ty and Mal at Haborview lookout in Mukilteo. This was where he poured out his heart to me one night after a Sunday night youth group, about a month before my first trip to Cambodia. He told me all about his past mistakes, decisions, relationships, etc. and sobbed as he asked me to forgive him for who he had been. I held him and comforted him in that vulnerable moment, and I remember asking Jesus the whole night to “help me to love him the way that He did.” Mostly, I just told him that all of that was washed away, and that he was a new man. And that I did forgive him. This was a major point where we both realized, this might be it.

KINDNESS AND GENTLENESS.

At this point I was tallying up all of the “fruits of the Spirit” in my head and I realized they were all done…except wait… LOVE. So I jumped in my car and drove as fast as I could to Mukilteo beach. When I got there I was greeted by one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen in my entire life. It had been raining for weeks and I am convinced that Jesus painted that sunset that night, just for us. At this point, I received a text that said, “walk towards the water, take a left, go as far as you can, and you might find what you’re looking for.” I ran. There he was sitting on a log and I removed my shoes and joined him. He had his Bible open to Proverbs 31, “The Wife of Noble Character,” and he began to read. He got about three words into it before he began to cry—more like bawl. So, as he struggled his way through the passage, I looked through the tears staining the pages, and saw that the passage was completely marked up—circled, underlined. When he finished, he looked at me and said something to the effect of, “I’ve been reading this passage for months now, and I realize that this is who you are. This who you will always be.”

Then he got down on one knee, pulled out the ring and asked “Will you marry me?”

I promptly said “Yes!” And then kissed him right on the lips…for the first time! My first kiss! I startled him so much that later on he had to clarify, “Did you say yes? I don’t even remember!”

At that point I knelt in the sand next to him and we prayed, a big, snotty mess of love :)

Later on, Greg came out of his car and took some lovely pictures of us:

Then we went back to the Beasley’s, and they had a lovely party for us with the Sawczuck’s, Ty and Mal, Brooks and Christy, and my parents. We toasted with some sparkling cider and played a fun game together, chalk full of marriage advice. Lastly, we ended the night with James Bond. A perfect ending to a perfect night.

The wedding will most likely be the weekend of June 13^th, so everyone should start saving the date.

There are so many things that I look forward to in this next season of life as I embark on so many new adventures with nursing school, pastoring the High school college group at new life, gaining a real career (it will be interesting to see how I am able to balance everything in this next semester)... but more than anything is just the idea of becoming “one flesh” with him. And I don’t just mean sex. Although that will be great too. I mean just partnering with him in every area of my life. In the Hebrew the words are:

Bashar Echad. אחד בשר

One flesh.

The word, Echad, in Hebrew is also found in the Hebrew Shema, repeated by all young Jewish boys in schooling. “Hear O Israel, the Lord our God is one (Echad).” So, what God was really saying when he declared, “Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh,” was that the man and the woman would become one, just as God is one. What a powerful concept and what a thrilling journey. To spend the rest of our lives in pursuit of Jesus, becoming one with Him and one with each other. One flesh.

Fractured

"'I know your works. You have the reputation of being alive, but you are dead. Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have not found your works complete in the sight of my God. Remember, then, what you received and heard. Keep it, and repent. If you will not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what hour I will come against you...For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing, not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked...Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent (Rev. 3:1-3, 17, 19)."

"Yet you have still a few names in Sardis, people who have not soiled their garments, and they will walk with me in white, for they are worthy. The one who conquers will be clothed thus in white garments, and I will never blot his name out of the book of life. I will confess his name before my Father and before his angels...Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me (Rev. 3:4-5, 20)."

Two different people. No middle ground. Which am I? Let's be honest.

I am wretched.

Pitiable.

Poor.

Blind.

Naked.

I see that now. Or at least I am beginning to see it. It feels good to admit it. The more I pursue Jesus the more my eyes begin to open. Not only do I see more of Jesus and the state of the world, but I see more of me--the true me--exposed by His light, and His holiness. "I once was blind but now I see" how blind I really am, and have always been. How can I truly understand how much I need Jesus until I understand how lacking I am?

I am like a broken mirror.



Not just broken though, but somewhere along the way, pieces got lost and have been missing ever since. The creation was intended to reflect the creativity, the perfection, the beauty, and the holiness of the creator. A perfect relationship, hearts beating in rhythmic harmony and unity with no obstructions, nothing in between, We all know the story from there though, it's an age-old story with an apple (who decided what fruit it was anyways? The Bible sure isn't clear about that.) and a snake and some naked people in a garden. You can complicate the story all you want but the reality is that it comes down to a simple desire for independence from God. They wanted knowledge, but not knowledge that they could have easily obtained from an all-knowing God. No, they wanted knowledge APART from God. So it could easily be said that it was their choice. They, we, chose and choose to separate from God.

So we're mirrors, broken and incomplete. We push and push, trying to reflect perfection, all the while really oblivious and unaware of the true extent of our brokenness. The light shining upon us bends, twist, distorts every which way sending out fragmented glimpses of His beauty. So not only are we seeing a fractured image of God but we are looking at him through broken eyes. Paul describes our perspective in 1 Corinthians 13:12, as seeing "through a glass, darkly." We're just messed up. That's the truth. No sugar-coating. I am messed up.

I am wretched. Pitiable. Poor. Blind. Naked...

And the closer I get in pursuing Jesus, the more I see how broken I am.

"Look, he is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see him, even those who pierced him; and all the peoples of the earth will mourn because of him. So shall it be! Amen (Rev. 1:7)."

The Greek word for mourn here cannot fully be captured in this word alone. It literally means to wail or to groan deep in the depths of your Spirit. The broken and fragmented pieces reflect glimpses of Him, but when we come into contact with the full HOLINESS of God, the automatic response of every human being will be to groan. It will be a piercing light into the darkness of the depths of our own souls and we will be sickeningly aware of our position in comparison to this holy God. For those of us who have chosen Jesus, I imagine, it will be a slightly different experience as we will see our ugliness clothed in is righteousness. But I think we will still groan as we are made increasingly aware of what we have been saved from.

In fact, these days, I find myself groaning a lot. I am saved yes and for that I know that I need Jesus. But beyond that I know that I am being saved. Day in and day out, he is restoring me. And that is what keeps me truly needing Jesus--every moment of every day. I want to see him more clearly and reflect him more clearly. And because of that I will continue to groan. It's the process of healing the broken pieces and recovering the ones that have been lost so that I can one day be what I was originally intended to be.

"Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known (1 Cor. 13:!2)."

Holy Ground

Clinical Day One 10/02/08: Long Term Care (Bethany at Silver Lake).

The woman, the patient I am specifically assigned to, who was said to be difficult. "A little fiesty." Eating lunch with her and talking about her family. I would meet her daughter tomorrow, she said, because she always comes on Fridays. Her showing me exactly how to "put on her eyebrows" so that I could do it when I came in the next morning. She had decided to trust me with the job. The look on her face when I told her I would come tomorrow at 6 am and that she would probably still be sleeping. The smile on her face, "I'll try and wake up early."

Changing the diaper of an old man. Peanut butter on his chin from lunch and an enormous genuine smile. Pictures of his family and a 10lb rainbow trout above his bed. He caught it and ate it and was proud of it. How he was still smiling and rattling on about that fish when I put on his pants and tucked him into bed. The smile I couldn't suppress as I shut the door and walked out into the hall.

Crouching on the floor holding an emesis basin under a lonely, elderly woman who kept repeating "I feel so awful. I feel so awful." Holding her hand and telling her that I heard her and I wouldn't leave until she felt better. Turning off the light and kneeling there until she fell asleep--looking so small and so frail. Wondering who would be there to hold her hand when she woke up.

Gently embracing the sobbing 85yr. old woman whose daughter had just died. Rocking rhythmically back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Providing warmth. Comfort. "She was such a good girl...such a good girl..."

The weary CNA confiding in me in the back room that she was tired. Drained I think was the exact word. Physically and emotionally drained. But reporting that at least she had "good Karma." The empty look on her face. Searching. The prayer under my breath, simply that she would "see Jesus."

Holy Ground. אדמה קדשׁ.

Moments where the presence of God is so unmistakable that I feel the incomprehensible urge to stop whatever I am doing and remove my sandals. Fall to my knees. Moments where everything seems to move in slow motion and I can almost hear the melody from heaven.

"Holy holy holy is the Lord Almighty.
Who was and is and is to come." ׁ

Moments where my heart is filled to the point of bursting. My skin feels like it's on fire. Words fail me. The knot in my throat contains the groan in my spirit.

When, in the depths of my spirit, arises an unshakable question born out of reverent awe and terror. I timidly ask, "Lord who are you? What is your name?"

היה אשׁר היה

"I am what I am...I will be what I will be."

Holy Ground.