home is where one starts from

widows and orphans

yesterday i let a four year old draw a tattoo on my arm and today it's almost disappeared. i would have tried to preserve it for longer but it was drawn with washable markers. when it was time for me to leave his hospital room he put on a big pouty lip and refused to say goodbye. he gets upset when people leave him. he likes to play hard, and draw, and make things. i wish he knew how much it means to me to spend time with him--so much more than my leaving upsets him.
i don't know how to talk about going into the hospital without sounding like i'm trying to evoke emotions. i don't want to belittle my experience there with my poor use of words. i don't want to sound sentimental and gooshy. so i say little, and really there's not much to say. i go in one day a week and paint and play with kids that have cancer. but it's bigger than just that. i have dreams about the kids. the images of their parent's faces stick in my mind. and i don't know what to do with it, because i'm not capable of doing much for them, but i pray. and when i'm there with them at the hospital, i pray God will be a presence in me. i've had the words "widows and orphans" running through my head for months and months. it feels right to be at the hospital. these are my widows and orphans--the people in need that i can help in a tiny way.
yesterday i met a mother who hadn't been there yet a week with her 3 year old son. she was more open with me than any parent has been so far. the reason was that she had just found out her son's diagnosis this week. a few days ago she thought he had a bad cold, now she knows he has leukemia. she told me she was trying to be strong for him, but that she was dealing with the weight of the news herself. i could see it all over her tired face. she has other kids. i wanted to tell her i'd move in with them and help her out with childcare and cleaning and driving and whatever she needs. but i can't be that for her. they get to go home soon, and she told me she is going to miss looking out their hospital window at the city lights at night. looking at them reminds her of the quality time she's had with her son this last week in the hospital. they'd never spent so much time alone together. there is always beauty in the terrible. she was so thankful to the doctors and nurses that came in and out of her room. i was trying to imagine how she'd feel toward them after months and months of hospital visits. i waited for their nurse to leave before i told the woman i would be praying for her and her son. they are in for a long fight. i've hadn't told a parent that yet, but i do pray for many of the kids i meet. it seemed very appropriate this time though. she gave me a big hug, and i said goodbye. i wish i could say i won't see them again, but i'm pretty sure i'll be doing more drawing and playing with her son in the hospital.
i've been interning at the hospital for just a few months now, and i love it more than any work i've ever done. i'm constantly so thankful to be invited into the children's rooms and share a little piece of their lives. some people have asked if it's hard to spend time with kid's that have cancer, and i think, well of course. how could it not be? but that doesn't make me want to stop going. it makes me want to be there more. i don't think we are called to work in the comfortable, easy places. i think we are called to help the widows and the orphan--anyone in need. God will be our strength once we are there.

"Pure and lasting religion in the sight of God our Father means that we must care for orphans and widows in their troubles, and refuse to let the world corrupt us."
(Jas 1:27)