Life and Death: Questions and Emotions Along the Way

She was only fourteen years old; I knew her for just over two weeks.  From the day that I first met her, I loved her.  Despite here peaceful demeanor, it was easy to read desperation in her beautiful brown eyes from the tremendous burden that she bore.  She was slender and beautiful, but her abdomen was so distended from cancer that it gave her the appearance of being pregnant.  For two weeks, I got to sit with her, hug her, draw with her, and indulge her love for candy.  Around her neck, she wore the necklace with the word “Friends” on it that I had given her.  This past Tuesday, she was very weak, and as I sat beside her on her bed, she whispered, “doce” (candy) to me.  I brought her a piece, and then I began to pass candy out to the other patients in her room as well.  As I went to say goodbye to my friend, she dropped her candy on the floor.  I stooped to pick it up and handed it to her.  As I did this, she reached for a second piece of candy.  Usually, I have to limit one piece per person to ensure that everyone gets some, but I slipped a second piece into her hand.  She smiled up at me, and I smiled back.  Then, I left for home.  The next day I arrived at the hospital to find her very weak.  I saw her step-mother dragging her by the arm to the bathroom.  As a result, my weak friend was stumbling and crashing into the wall.  I rushed to her side to help steady her, and she grasped my hand and leaned on me as we walked the hall to the bathroom.  That was the last time that I touched her or let her know that I loved her.  For all I know, that may have been the last touch of love that she received on earth.  I waited and waited for her step-mother to come from the bathroom so that I could help her back to her room, but she didn’t come.  Finally, I saw two men carrying her limp body back to her bed.  Shortly after this, my sweet friend passed away. 

 

My heart was heavy as I left pediatric oncology to meet Alice (the missionary I serve with) at adult oncology.  I found Alice sitting with a woman who had just lost her husband—her only love to cancer that afternoon.  The woman was overcome with grief and completely devastated.  I put my cheek next to hers and felt the warm tears that poured from her eyes as she sobbed in the arms of Alice and me. 

If ever there was ever an instance to ask, “How could a loving God allow such suffering to occur?” this seemed like the opportune time for such a question.  However, as I thought of these two beautiful women suffering regardless of whether I choose to be theist or atheist, a new question emerged in my mind, “How can there not be hope for these women?”  Suffering is inevitable on this earth, but hope is a choice and always available.  I have found hope from my faith in a loving God, and since I have found it, everything within me wants to share it.  I hate suffering, but my heart is overwhelmed with love for the one who suffers and is not content to leave them hopeless in their suffering.  I believe in a God who has come to give life and life to the fullest.  That life can start here on earth and will ultimately be fulfilled in Heaven.  “He (God/Love) will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Revelations 21:4).  This is the hope that I have found and am devoted to sharing with the broken-hearted.  It doesn't always make sense, but it is all that I have to offer.  I desire that as I touch and interact with people, I show them a new way of life and bring the message of hope--the message of Love who carried all suffering past, present, and future so that a new way of life is available to all who are willing to receive.