My vehicle is no exception to this personality quirk of mine. When my ex-husband and I went car shopping, I wanted this ugly blue thing simply because we could afford to pay cash and not have car payments looming over our heads.
When we divorced, I wanted to pawn the car – and the payments – off on him. Unfortunately, the bank would not agree to our arrangement. I did all I could to get rid of her, but no one wanted her. Once I realized that we were stuck with one another (Rosie and I), I decided to see her as God’s gift and chose to love her and take good care of her.
She is old in car years, and I have had more than one opportunity to trade up for free. I have turned down the offers, electing to remain faithful to the girl who has been through so much with me – and who has brought me home again.
This past week, my dad and I discussed all the ways Rosie is beginning to show her age. Her shocks are squeaking. Sometimes it sounds like someone knocking on the door when I press on the brakes. And – last year, my trusted mechanic warned me that a belt would need to be replaced soon. He was surprised that she had as many miles on her without it ever having been replaced. I had just spent a lot of money fixing other things, and he knew I did not have the money for more repairs at that time. He told me the belt was okay for the time being, but I needed to seriously consider replacing it before too much longer.
Since that time, she has taken me to Colorado, Nebraska, Tennessee, Arkansas, and countless miles in Texas. However, I can now sense that before I ask her to take me on any more long-distance adventures, I need to take care of her needs.
My dad informed me that this belt – something called a serpentine belt – is pretty darn important. Without it, she can’t run. That scared me. No one is offering me a new “free-for-me” vehicle, I cannot afford a car payment, and, I feared, I could not afford to fix something that important to her life.
Either way I looked at it, I was screwed – or so I thought.
At church the following Sunday morning, I asked a friend, who is a car guy, how expensive this fix would be. He said the part was very inexpensive and easy to replace. He offered to bless me by helping me if possible.
Something that important being that cheap and easy?
My Rosie and her needs got me to thinking about what Paul says in scripture about us being the hands and feet of Jesus. We all serve a different function in the body of Christ, but like a serpentine belt for a car, none of the parts matter – none of the parts can function properly (or at all) – without the resurrected Christ which holds us all together and gives us our power.
I thought about the importance of the serpentine belt again last night at work during what is called a Donor Walk. There are so many things that are new to me in my chaplaincy and this, so far, has been the most rewarding and heart-wrenching experience yet.
A donor patient is wheeled from the hospital room to the operating room. The family follows behind. I, as chaplain, brought up the rear of the procession. Hospital staff and any mobile patients and families line the halls to pay respects to the donor and the family.
I could feel the solemnity immediately, but nothing anybody told me or could have told me could have prepared me for the walk. Staff – most of whom had never met the patient or the family – openly wept as they passed by, which made me weep. At first, I hung my head low, falling into old habits of ignoring the emotional triggers in order to hold myself together.
Then, I remembered lessons from my class and ministry – sometimes showing my emotion says more to those I minister to/with than any words I could ever say. My tears matter. So, I picked up my head, looked the staff and others in the face, and openly wept right along with them.
After the patient was wheeled into the OR, I had the honor of spending some time with the family – crying together, sharing, and praying. My tears mattered.
All the parts of a donor body – useless on their own, without machines keeping it alive – serving in unison toward the same goal – life. Like my vehicle’s serpentine belt. Remove the belt, the entire car fails. Disconnect the machines keeping a donor patient alive, the body dies.
One family mourns the loss of life – other families celebrate the gift of new life. One lives on through another. A new serpentine belt – a new body – new life.
My friend told me replacing Rosie’s belt would be cheap and easy. The same is not necessarily true for the donor or the recipient. There is nothing cheap or easy about death, mourning, loss, surgery, transport, transplant, recovery, healing, new life.
What made it easier (not easy) for this family was their faith. Their serpentine belt holding them together was Jesus. Their faith in their Savior, knowing where their loved one was going and who would be holding their loved one’s hand, kept them from completely shutting down and falling apart.
No comments:
Post a Comment