A few days ago, I visited a family who recently welcomed their third child into the world.

This family had sat vigil for several days waiting for baby Ryan to be born. Their time of waiting ended in great rejoicing. And as I cradled this newborn in my arms, I could feel my harried-ness of the previous weeks seep away. He nestled in my arms, sleeping, his breathing rhythmic and steady; Me holding him, peaceful, my heart full of wonder. I was content to sit there in that kitchen, the winter sun streaming in, with the proud parents and grandparents around me, soaking in the love and joy that surrounded us all.

Eventually (and reluctantly), I handed baby Ryan over to his grandmother so I could have a devotion and prayer, including these words:

Behold this tiny, precious new life,
“Make a joyful noise to the LORD, all the earth!…It is he who made us, and we are his;   Psalm 100:1,3

Once again, I  was reminded of the mystery of new life and the sanctity of all life.

Pamela and Ryan

Refreshed, I drove a few miles to check out a memory care facility for a friend of mine in need of such specialized care. In the parking lot, I discovered a WhatsApp message from my dear Kenyan friend and colleague, Pastor David Chuchu, “The Lord has called my mom peaceful.”  I realized that as I was cradling a new life in my arms moments earlier in that kitchen, and a continent away, another life was ebbing into the arms of our Lord. This family too, had sat vigil, but this time preparing to let go of a loved one. I held a child peacefully breathing in my arms, as David’s mother, Caren, whose breathing, once rhythmic and steady, changed and finally ceased. This vigil ended in sorrow and also great joy. There is sorrow in losing a loved one; joy in knowing that although this life has ended, it is not the end of Caren’s story. Caren now lies in the protecting arms of Christ with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven.

Caren, January 2022

As my eyes pooled with tears, I pondered the both-sided-ness of life and death. I thought about paradoxes. Baby Ryan’s thoughts still unformed, yet before he was born, God knew him and loved him. Ryan came into this world a helpless little baby, vulnerable and in need of care and nurture.  For my friend David, his mom’s mind had been “slipping away” for years due to the ravages of dementia. She, in her old age, had become vulnerable and in need of care, just like a newborn. And yet, she was (and is)  known and loved by God. Both lives are sacred, not because of what they could do, but because they are created in the image of God.

Mary, David, Caren and Raphael Chuchu (January 2022)

The day before Caren’s death, I had received a message from David,

“We request prayers for mom. We are with her at the hospital. I think she is having some pain and feeling unease. More reason why we need a place to care for people in her situation.”

David is right. We need to continue our journey of mercy toward the creation of Rehema Open Door for vulnerable people who suffer like Caren.  And, so, we will.  We need that refuge for the weary.  We need that sanctuary where life is sacred, and death comes in the midst of compassionate care.  

Again,

“Make a joyful noise to the LORD, all the earth!…It is he who made us, and we are his;   Psalm 100:1,3
Thank you for journeying with us.

Always Mercy,

Pamela