home is where one starts from

i saw it in your eyes

"i'm looking for the tower of learning. i'm looking for the copious prize. i saw it in your eyes, what i'm looking for... i really do fear that i'm dying. i really do fear that i'm dead. i saw it in your eyes, what i'm looking for. i saw it in you eyes, what'll make me live."
these words belong to rufus wainwright. i rediscovered this song as i lay in bed the other night trying to sleep despite the coffee i'd just had. i had forgotten how beautiful it is. i sat up when it came on and looked out the window--dark hills, fog, and a dim street light breaking through our trees. the whole moment talked to me about my longing which has led me to finding and hoping. i don't know who's eyes rufus sang about, but the only eyes that make the song true for me are God's, and the people's which reflect his eyes. the following night i turned the song on again, pushed repeat, and fell asleep. the words sang through my dreams, and the next morning i woke up and went to the children's hospital for my second training as a volunteer.
i'm a little ashamed to say that i was hoping to say and make beautiful things from my experience working at the hospital. but even from the tiny ounce of time i've had there, i can only describe it as holy ground. in other words, i don't understand it. it's beyond me. it's more than me. my words don't matter.
i walk in, play with children, smile watching their tiny hands paint, and forget they have cancer...or their sibling has cancer. i see tired parents, and i don't understand. i could be overwhelmed and ashamed by the fact that i don't understand, but i'm not and i don't think i should be. i do however, feel small and unworthy, but thankful beyond expression.
my hebrew professor in college translated the last line of micah 6:8, "walk carefully with your God." most bibles say humbly. same thing, but carefully puts a clearer image in my mind. when i walk into the hospital, i want to walk knowing full well Who i walk powerfully with, but recognizing that i must walk carefully with him. i don't want to think that i can go in like a whirlwind of change and healing, and blast these people's lives. it's easy to want to fix things for them, to think that's the answer. but i can't and it's not.
so i played with a little boy who was bald and hooked up to tubes and things that beep, and i had no context for knowing what any of it meant. but playing made his glum face laugh and forget for a moment. we made play-dough snakes, and he painted, and threw red balls to me in the hallway. at one point he said he had to go to the bathroom, so his nurse came, and i didn't see him again.
in the afternoon i shadowed the girl who started this program. she can't be much older than me. she began providing art for kids with cancer after her younger sister was diagnosed. i watch her talk with kids and parents with full understanding of what they are going through. she is beautiful.
we went into a little girl's room because she couldn't come out to our table. she's ten, a year older than my sister marley. she's smart and lovely and quiet. she told us about her friends from school and girl scouts. i watched her long fingers very carefully glue tiny pieces of magazine to a candle holder. the image of her hands went home with me. i was told that she'd been in the hospital a week and they still didn't know what she had.
on the drive back i pictured her smart hands, and i cried because they don't go at all with the monstrous sickness in her body. this is all beyond me.
at home i walked in the door and my youngest sister bailey immediately asked me for lovey-love. i was busy so i said she'd have to wait...but then i stopped, thought for one second about my day, and those beautiful hands, and picked bailey up. i hugged her and doted on her and told her about the children in the hospital. her eyes widened and she said she wanted to come with me. marley and carson were listening, and they said they wanted to come too. then carson asked if the kids are so sick they have to take medicine. i said they were.
i don't know how to "be" for this place, and so my reaction is to take a step closer to God. waiting for my ride outside the hospital, i felt warm knowing He was standing beside me. i pictured Him in a big winter coat, and i slid a little closer and rested my head. it doesn't matter who i am, it matter's Who i'm standing with. i've found what i'm looking for.