Beauty in Pain

It was nearing the end of the church service, with my dad just making some closing statements to encourage the people when a drunk started bellowing out something or other. He had come to the church before, multiple times, and even sober. I had thought that he was a man trying to live right and constantly failing. Alcohol can do that to a man, I'm told. His daughter was my friend, and I was hers. Her name is Ruth* and her father was still bellowing. At that time we didn't really have ushers, and so it was my dad, who was still on stage, trying to calm him down and hush him up by talking to him. After a couple of minutes, Ruth ran out of the building; I waited for a bit, then followed her.
            I wish I could describe the emotional pain I saw being portrayed in her physical body. The Malagasy people do not show emotion very often. They laugh, they smile, but it has to be something serious for them to cry. At least that has been my experience. And to see her crying, practically sobbing, leaning on the wall with a bare bulb shining down on her.... It broke my heart. I took her in my arms and tried to sooth her, and all I heard was, "I'm so ashamed." To have a drunk dad, yes, that would cause shame but not as much as having him belligerently bellow in a church service. Especially to that family, they were very pious. I think that was half of her shame. He was a hypocrite. And all I could do was hold her and wipe at her tears and tell her that we needed to pray for him, and her, and her mom.. I told her that God could take care of them, He could convict, He could deliver, and He loved her. He wanted to do miracles in her life. He still does, I'm sure, but that is just what I said.  She was nodding and agreeing, and so we prayed. I don't remember what we prayed, we were both too broken. I was crying with her, and I remember feeling so much of God's presence in that little alley leading to the bathrooms. Dirty cement, the orange wall of the building, and that lone light bulb lighting up her agony.

Didene, me and Alice

           We dried our tears and went back inside. Her dad had been led out by some men and her mom was gathering their things up to walk home. That night was when I knew, when God made me realize that this, this is what I was made for. To comfort, to be selfless, to pray with, to encourage, to serve, to pour my life out for people. And to above all, act as Jesus would in their lives. If Jesus were still in human form, I'm positive that He would have done more to show how much He loves and cares for her.. Even so, I know He gave me His own love and comfort, to give to her. I was His medium, and as long as He'll have me, I'll continue doing what He asks.

*Names changed to protect the innocent