Dancing Again and Heartsick Little Girls

    In our little villages, we are surrounded constantly by death. I’ve buried more friends and loved ones in my years living in Chichigalpa than I had ever imagined. Last week we were saying goodbye once again. This time to my beautiful, life-giving friend Lilian. 

   Death, especially following a prolonged illness, often carries with it such dichotomous feelings… 

   I remember the first day I met Lilian. I sat in the yard hearing about her life. She sat in a hammock with Yubelkis and Anyeling. She talked about her tumor, her surgery, the Lord’s provision, and the love of her neighbors and church family. She was speaking of hardships, but her face shone brightly, fiercely joyful. From the first day, I liked her. Lilian embodied peace and joy. She shone light. 

   I watched during the last few months of her life, as disease and constant pain stripped her of these things. Of course there were still moments when I would catch a glimpse of Lilian as her true self. Moments sitting on her bed in that dimly lit room when I would read Scripture over her heart and you could feel her peace rush back like a river. Moments where she prayed with such fervor and faith. Moments when she laughed and talked and her joyful smile shone brightly. There were moments of seeing Lilian as she is, but there was so much that was taken from her through her illness. As I sat at her wake, my heart couldn’t help but rejoice with Lilian. All that was stolen from her has been restored and made whole in Jesus. That is beauty worth celebrating. Just weeks before her death, Lilian said, “One day I will get up from this bed and I will dance and run again.” And my heart smiles knowing that she is now dancing again in the presence of her Savior.   

    When I think only of Lilian, my heart longs to rejoice that she is now home. She is now her truest self. But that’s only half the story. You still have those who are left to mourn their loss. You still have Yubelkis….

    The only words that can adequately describe her that night were utterly heartsick. As soon as my taxi stopped at their home, I jumped out and began desperately searching for my girl. I walked through their home and into the backyard. As soon as Yubelkis (Lilian’s 8 year old daughter- pictured above with her mom) saw me, she ran and collapsed into my arms sobbing. I lifted her and held her in my arms while she sobbed inconsolably for 10 minutes. It breaks my heart to see her so broken and hurt. I know that I can hold her and comfort her like a mom would. I can pray over her and rub her back, but I also know that I’m not the mom her heart wants right now. It breaks me to know that she lost her mom far too young and that she feels orphaned in this world. This the other side of death that makes it so tragic. 

    How do you reconcile a moment filled with both celebration and grief? How do we live in the hurt of now and still firmly hold on to the hope that comes with the fullness of His Kingdom? It is a challenging, painstaking, and beautiful task to walk with families through their grief, to see the Lord meet them in their brokenness and bring forth new life. And I know that He will. It is His very nature. The language He speaks is restoration and resurrection.  

“Shout for joy, you heavens;
    rejoice, you earth;
    burst into song, you mountains!
For the Lord comforts His people
    and will have compassion on His afflicted ones.” -Isaiah 49:13

   I see new life budding as I sit in their home talking with the family about Lilian’s life and legacy. I hear it bubbling up as I her children share their desire to get to know the Lord more because they want to continue the walk that their mom began. I believe in deeper joy that is coming as we take Yubelkis out to play, as she jumps into the river squealing and giggling. I believe in walls that will be broken as I am given opportunities to speak truth and pray over her heart. 

   I am thankful for Lilian’s life and friendship. I am thankful for the time that I had with her, for the way that she opened her heart and welcomed me into her home and family. I’m thankful that she trusts me to love her daughter well and invited me to speak into her life. I’m thankful for relationships with this beautiful family. I am mostly thankful that there is hope and life beyond our present reality, that death is not the end of the story. I am thankful for a God who always shows up and whose resurrection life has the final word.