A Little Tug on the Heart
This is just a little update my cousin Markus sent today about his experiences in the Ukraine, his story kinda got me this evening as I was reading his latest post...
How I hate the masks. I’m talking about those medical masks that doctors
wear. I’m a part of a ministry called, "Mother’s Care" of which I’m the
only male. They wondered aloud if changing the name would draw more guys
in. Did I have a problem with it? I told them that I’m my own ministry,
"Father’s Heart."
To recap, on Wednesdays, I go to the hospital with "the moms" to minister
to abandoned babies. Of course, you must wear a mask. It’s to protect
babies from your germs, and you from the babies’ germs, I suppose.
Honestly, we know the babies get each other’s germs all day long because of
the way the place is run. At least this way we know it’s not our fault.
The downside, other than being uncomfortable, is that masks tend to
de-humanize you. Me, being a 6 foot 3 man scares a kid once in a while, but
the blue mask makes it worse by taking away your comforting smile and half
your face.
I must confess that sometimes I’m a little intimidated myself by the little
patients I visit. Don’t get me wrong, changing diapers and getting baby
puke down my lab coat is not a big deal. Been there, done that. But their
conditions shake me up sometimes.
Marina is a good example. She’s not really a candidate for adoption.
She’s all bones, pale skin, severe facial deformities, very little hair.
One hand is entirely wrapped up, I’m not sure why. I’d guess that her
mother was probably a pregnant drug user. As a result, some things didn’t
develop right, some things didn’t develop at all.
Marina might be around two years old, she’s long enough I think. On the
day I went to pick her up she looked so frail. It felt like she would
crumble in my hands. I could feel her backbone. She does smile though and
you can see a couple of teeth.
I wondered if she could sense my timidity. She lifted her arms when I went
to pick her up; a very good sign. Then I did what I normally do. I held
her against my chest and sang to her while I looked into her eyes.
"Jesus… Jesus… Jesus… There’s just something about that name…" That was
the song that came out this time. I sat in the plastic chair with her on my
lap. Sometimes I even dance a little with the older ones. You know, to
that little Nutcracker song, and only when nobody’s watching. But not
Marina, I didn’t think she could handle too much.
My big hand dwarfed hers as I stroked her fingers and sang. I noticed that
she didn’t have any thumbs. She used one finger like a thumb to latch
around my hand. I prayed my prayer of wavering faith, "It’s not really fair
for her to start out this way, Lord. Who’s going to look out for her?
What’s her future?"
But I kept singing. "Kings and kingdoms may all pass away…but there’s
something…" Marina looked at me, reached up her good hand and ripped the
mask right off my face, keeping a tight hold on it. She wanted to see my
whole face. She wanted to know where the singing was coming from. She
wanted to see the real me.
"Thank you, Marina." I said and held her up to my scratchy cheek. Inge
says there’s more important things than germs. I kept the mask off for her
the rest of our time.
I don’t always get the answers I want to my prayers, but I’m glad I can go
to God without a mask. I don’t have to fake spirituality when it’s not
there. I like the guy in the Bible who said, "I do believe, help me in my
unbelief." Jesus took care of him just the same. I can’t help but think
about the masks we wear in front of each other, trying to be safe, trying to
be cool. Wearing if for "their own good." How I hate the masks.
Blessings
Markus
p.s. You know the rest. www.markuswolf.blogspot.com (you can visit his blog there, pray for him and his time of ministry there if you think about it)!
How I hate the masks. I’m talking about those medical masks that doctors
wear. I’m a part of a ministry called, "Mother’s Care" of which I’m the
only male. They wondered aloud if changing the name would draw more guys
in. Did I have a problem with it? I told them that I’m my own ministry,
"Father’s Heart."
To recap, on Wednesdays, I go to the hospital with "the moms" to minister
to abandoned babies. Of course, you must wear a mask. It’s to protect
babies from your germs, and you from the babies’ germs, I suppose.
Honestly, we know the babies get each other’s germs all day long because of
the way the place is run. At least this way we know it’s not our fault.
The downside, other than being uncomfortable, is that masks tend to
de-humanize you. Me, being a 6 foot 3 man scares a kid once in a while, but
the blue mask makes it worse by taking away your comforting smile and half
your face.
I must confess that sometimes I’m a little intimidated myself by the little
patients I visit. Don’t get me wrong, changing diapers and getting baby
puke down my lab coat is not a big deal. Been there, done that. But their
conditions shake me up sometimes.
Marina is a good example. She’s not really a candidate for adoption.
She’s all bones, pale skin, severe facial deformities, very little hair.
One hand is entirely wrapped up, I’m not sure why. I’d guess that her
mother was probably a pregnant drug user. As a result, some things didn’t
develop right, some things didn’t develop at all.
Marina might be around two years old, she’s long enough I think. On the
day I went to pick her up she looked so frail. It felt like she would
crumble in my hands. I could feel her backbone. She does smile though and
you can see a couple of teeth.
I wondered if she could sense my timidity. She lifted her arms when I went
to pick her up; a very good sign. Then I did what I normally do. I held
her against my chest and sang to her while I looked into her eyes.
"Jesus… Jesus… Jesus… There’s just something about that name…" That was
the song that came out this time. I sat in the plastic chair with her on my
lap. Sometimes I even dance a little with the older ones. You know, to
that little Nutcracker song, and only when nobody’s watching. But not
Marina, I didn’t think she could handle too much.
My big hand dwarfed hers as I stroked her fingers and sang. I noticed that
she didn’t have any thumbs. She used one finger like a thumb to latch
around my hand. I prayed my prayer of wavering faith, "It’s not really fair
for her to start out this way, Lord. Who’s going to look out for her?
What’s her future?"
But I kept singing. "Kings and kingdoms may all pass away…but there’s
something…" Marina looked at me, reached up her good hand and ripped the
mask right off my face, keeping a tight hold on it. She wanted to see my
whole face. She wanted to know where the singing was coming from. She
wanted to see the real me.
"Thank you, Marina." I said and held her up to my scratchy cheek. Inge
says there’s more important things than germs. I kept the mask off for her
the rest of our time.
I don’t always get the answers I want to my prayers, but I’m glad I can go
to God without a mask. I don’t have to fake spirituality when it’s not
there. I like the guy in the Bible who said, "I do believe, help me in my
unbelief." Jesus took care of him just the same. I can’t help but think
about the masks we wear in front of each other, trying to be safe, trying to
be cool. Wearing if for "their own good." How I hate the masks.
Blessings
Markus
p.s. You know the rest. www.markuswolf.blogspot.com (you can visit his blog there, pray for him and his time of ministry there if you think about it)!