tiny juana: the story she tells
a week ago from this past friday, our little gift from God for a week, tiny juana, breathed her last breath here on earth.
i have had almost two weeks to process through this situation and yet i still have mixed feelings as i write this. i would like to write about how confident i am that this is God's plan and about all the amazing things that God has brought about in this situation: the way rosa rededicated her life to her Savior, the way juana's father stopped drinking during the time his daughter was in the hospital and started working, the way that he would pay a day's wages to ride a bus two and half hours to the hospital where he would be able to see his daughter for the one hour that the family is allowed to visit, and the way that these two families (rosa's and her husband's) have seemed to find reason to unite over the life and death of their grandchild during a time that was otherwise seemingly full of discord. however, then i will also have to write about how frustrating it is to work among the health system here, how juana was getting better and then was suddenly gone, how the hospital has no details to give, how no one has any answers in the middle of all this. i would have to write about how the day that jauna's little body was picked up from the hospital to be brought home with her family, rosa's husband went out and got drunk and then came to pound on her family's door in the middle of the night. about how rosa's husband has always had a drinking problem, beat her, and how rosa's dad has now resumed his proceedings with the town judge to get a restraining order. and how if that does happen, rosa will now find herself 19 years old and without a husband or child in a culture where husbands and children are everything. and i would have to write about my own feelings of sorrow, loss and confusion that seem to cast a shadow over all of this.
and so i have found it hard to write this post as i face the feelings that i face everytime i write something on here. there is the longing for the ability to write something that will touch the reader's heart, the desire to be faithful to my God, the hope that the reader will see something real and the deep fear that they won't; that they will instead walk away with either nothing more than a neat story to tell or with nothing more than cynism and criticism that anyone looking in would be sure to find.
so as i have sat down many times to write this, i have searched for those words of conclusion and finality because part of me wants to leave you with a nice, neatly wrapped story. one that tells of God's amazing love and faithfulness or that speaks of the depth of human depravity that is revealed when we live apart from the completeness that only a relationship with God can bring. or one that speaks of the tragedies that happen specific to guatemala or that instead brings it down to the level of humanity we can all relate to, whether here or there.
but, the truth is that this is not my story to claim, and never was from the beginning. and this is a story that i still find myself muddling through, still full of questions, still trying to make sense of a health system i don't understand, still wondering why God did not heal her. and yet in all of this, slowly finding God in places i did not expect.
and then i remember juana and all that god created her to be, even at just eight weeks old. and then i know that her life is more than a story of another baby that died, or another story from the depths of guatemala, or another story of the depravity that is so familiar to all of us, whether i can ever convey that to you, the reader, or not. and i remember that there is more to her family than another story of abuse and marital strife. and that God is doing much more in this than i can ever understand or even begin to put words to.
and so i find myself without a story, except the one that juana herself tells. and i leave you to draw your own conclusions, although i pray that you won't. although i pray that instead of needing to walk away with a "story in a box," you too will stop for a moment and sit a little in the gray area that we will always find our Savior in the midst of. that you will rest for a moment in the tension that these situations are witness to, knowing that the truths we hold to, the faith we walk, and the God we serve are deeper than whether a story is good or bad. that they are deeper than emotions, deeper than conclusions, deeper than the desires that lead us to control and manipulate stories to look the way we want them to or that lead us to walk away cynical and critical of what we have just read. and that you will see that sometimes we cling to the stories themselves or walk away from them bitter because we cannot sit and listen to the deeper truths that are found in the complexities of each of them; the truths that are there before the story began, are constant throughout it, and will continue on forever, even after we think the story has reached its end.
i have had almost two weeks to process through this situation and yet i still have mixed feelings as i write this. i would like to write about how confident i am that this is God's plan and about all the amazing things that God has brought about in this situation: the way rosa rededicated her life to her Savior, the way juana's father stopped drinking during the time his daughter was in the hospital and started working, the way that he would pay a day's wages to ride a bus two and half hours to the hospital where he would be able to see his daughter for the one hour that the family is allowed to visit, and the way that these two families (rosa's and her husband's) have seemed to find reason to unite over the life and death of their grandchild during a time that was otherwise seemingly full of discord. however, then i will also have to write about how frustrating it is to work among the health system here, how juana was getting better and then was suddenly gone, how the hospital has no details to give, how no one has any answers in the middle of all this. i would have to write about how the day that jauna's little body was picked up from the hospital to be brought home with her family, rosa's husband went out and got drunk and then came to pound on her family's door in the middle of the night. about how rosa's husband has always had a drinking problem, beat her, and how rosa's dad has now resumed his proceedings with the town judge to get a restraining order. and how if that does happen, rosa will now find herself 19 years old and without a husband or child in a culture where husbands and children are everything. and i would have to write about my own feelings of sorrow, loss and confusion that seem to cast a shadow over all of this.
and so i have found it hard to write this post as i face the feelings that i face everytime i write something on here. there is the longing for the ability to write something that will touch the reader's heart, the desire to be faithful to my God, the hope that the reader will see something real and the deep fear that they won't; that they will instead walk away with either nothing more than a neat story to tell or with nothing more than cynism and criticism that anyone looking in would be sure to find.
so as i have sat down many times to write this, i have searched for those words of conclusion and finality because part of me wants to leave you with a nice, neatly wrapped story. one that tells of God's amazing love and faithfulness or that speaks of the depth of human depravity that is revealed when we live apart from the completeness that only a relationship with God can bring. or one that speaks of the tragedies that happen specific to guatemala or that instead brings it down to the level of humanity we can all relate to, whether here or there.
but, the truth is that this is not my story to claim, and never was from the beginning. and this is a story that i still find myself muddling through, still full of questions, still trying to make sense of a health system i don't understand, still wondering why God did not heal her. and yet in all of this, slowly finding God in places i did not expect.
and then i remember juana and all that god created her to be, even at just eight weeks old. and then i know that her life is more than a story of another baby that died, or another story from the depths of guatemala, or another story of the depravity that is so familiar to all of us, whether i can ever convey that to you, the reader, or not. and i remember that there is more to her family than another story of abuse and marital strife. and that God is doing much more in this than i can ever understand or even begin to put words to.
and so i find myself without a story, except the one that juana herself tells. and i leave you to draw your own conclusions, although i pray that you won't. although i pray that instead of needing to walk away with a "story in a box," you too will stop for a moment and sit a little in the gray area that we will always find our Savior in the midst of. that you will rest for a moment in the tension that these situations are witness to, knowing that the truths we hold to, the faith we walk, and the God we serve are deeper than whether a story is good or bad. that they are deeper than emotions, deeper than conclusions, deeper than the desires that lead us to control and manipulate stories to look the way we want them to or that lead us to walk away cynical and critical of what we have just read. and that you will see that sometimes we cling to the stories themselves or walk away from them bitter because we cannot sit and listen to the deeper truths that are found in the complexities of each of them; the truths that are there before the story began, are constant throughout it, and will continue on forever, even after we think the story has reached its end.
posted by katie at 10:05 PM
3 Comments:
Great writing! It's too bad that it has to be about such a hard topic, but it turns out that pain is the greatest muse of all. Go figure.
COME HOME, KATIE!!! We miss you here... and are really sad to realize that you're going to miss Mom and Dad Bell's visit... poop. Anyway, just wanted to let you know you're missed and prayed for... love, heidi.
thanks.
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