Only One

Claudin was numb Monday when we spoke, very matter-of-fact and calm.

He's spent the week at the hospital with his wife, who was released this morning.

This afternoon, he was not so put together.

I could hardly stand it.

Emotions are an interesting thing in this culture.  In some cases it seems that extreme and dramatic emotion is expected and displayed.  Accidents, emergencies, funerals.  Screaming, wailing, fainting, thrashing.

At other times, when I would think emotion would be expected, it almost seems foreign.  Absent.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Claudin said this morning.  "I don't feel like eating, I can't sleep, I feel sick in my head.  Maybe it is from all the time on my motorcycle going back and forth this week...made me sick.  I guess I'll be better soon."

He was so troubled and heavy my eyes welled.

"My wife is feeling a bit better, but her back and stomach hurt, and she is so tired.  And sometimes, water comes up in her eyes.  She is doing everything a new mother would be doing...went through the 9 months, went to the hospital, went through labor, came home, can't sleep, her milk is in, she is exhausted.  But she has no baby."

By now, I have lost the cross-cultural battle of non-emotion.

Her blood pressure is finally back to a normal range, her mother and his mother and people in the church are at their home helping and cooking and being present.  Thanks to one of you, he has the money he needs to pay every bill, every medication, every mile.

I am thankful for all of the minutes, all of the days, all of the opportunities I have had to go from an acquaintance to a friend.

We are thankful to be Claudin's brother and sister, for the good days and the days such as these.

I am thankful for friends like you who help us do what we can for our brothers and sisters here financially.

I am thankful for friends like you who pray with us.

But what Claudin and his wife want tonight and every night hereafter is their little girl.

And there is NOTHING. I. CAN. DO.


It is Christmas, the time we celebrate the coming of God's Son.  And with the great thrill of hope as heaven rejoiced must have come a great pain to God's heart, as well.  To Mary's heart.  He came because of God's great love.  He came to bring reconciliation.  He came to bring hope.  And He came to take on the sins of the world.  To die.

We can't really celebrate His coming without celebrating why He came.  Can't really rejoice over our salvation without sorrow over the cost.  Can't really rejoice this side of heaven without suffering and pain intermingled.  Can't be home until we're HOME.

There is only one place with no more tears, mine, Claudin's, or otherwise.

Only One presence that trades all darkness and sorrows.

Only One Hope in the face of all tragedy.

And it is not me.

But I know Him...