Talitha Cum!

The morning does bring its much needed strength. Evenings are the devil's haunt. My heart is strangely calm after a paralyzing night of grief and mourning. I was anxious and could not lay down. Medication did not help me, but made it worse. Only worship songs could overcome the restless and frantic soul. Even just a simple song about God made my heart grow quiet and allowed me to finally drift to sleep. 

I thought that when I walked into H's room this morning that he would open his eyes and be normal again—that he would open his arms and I would once again crawl into that sacred space reserved just for me. But no, there was only the wailing of arms and blank stares. I forget that the medication is not responsible, it is the brain mets. I still believe that this scenario of an instanteous healing will somehow happen. Hope never fails. The gift of God. 

I am beginning to write Han's eulogy today. It is a difficult process and takes me around the world as I meditate on the last thirty years. The changes, the challenges, the growth of two people who couldn't have been more different—the handiwork of God. God loves impossible challenges. 

Today is Saturday, Holy Saturday. Jesus is interred in the tomb, the stone has been placed, it feels like death. The stone is immovable and a good sign for man that he cannot undo what has been done. Inside its  inhabitants have been trapped, and if they are alive, death soon overtakes them. Sealed is their fate. That is what death looks like to us. Even the word "tomb" has that all embracing feeling of steel and lead. Thud. The end of light. 

But where is Jesus? This man who says He is the Light of the world? Can we count on Him after all? He is overcoming our enemies: "For when he ascended he took many captives." Trailing behind his conqueror's steed were Death, Sin, the Devil." Having taken captivity captive,  he gave the church gifts. Hans was one of those gifts. 

This morning my faith arises for a brief moment. I lift Hans' head and tell him that we are going to fight Death. We will not give in to it willy nilly. I have seen many many miracles and I know that Jesus has power. In the past, I have only had to ask and it was done. I talk to Hans and tell him that he must resist this gruesome pull to give in. His eyes open and they look clear for a moment. I pray asking Jesus to remove the brain mets. I ask forgiveness for trusting in the brain radiation. I am angry at Dr. Gupta. For her resolute and demanding spirit. I too can be resolute and demanding. And every fiber of my being wants to rebuke her foolish unbelieving atheistic heart and whip her soundly with  my prophetic finger and perhaps placing it ultimately up her nose. Oh Elijah, where is your chariot and where is your mantle when your people need you? How can we ever stand in the face of such exotic specimens of unbelief? We are the meek of the earth. Come fire of God and spit upon the earth! Only one coal from your precious mouth will set the hemispheres aflame. Rise up oh God, you are not asleep in the grave! We do not worship You as the sleeping God, or the sleeping prophet...no You are the great I AM. 

Am I going crazy now? A part of me whispers that I am foolish and desperate. "Nothing will happen." Of course not, I am not strong enough to sustain this level of belief. 

The whole thing brings me back to Jesus' saying, "This is a hard teaching, can you accept it?" What is the teaching? What am I supposed to be learning? if only I knew. But I will not know until it is over. And tomorrow is Resurrection Sunday. 

This morning my family is climbing Mt. Christo Rey, Christ the King. In honor of the King, I am dressing up today and I am dressing Hans in a nice shirt and slacks. Even if it kills me.


And this morning we will have coffee and eggs. And I am still talking to a living soul. Who on some level still understands.