May 2011
Jennifer and Jeremiah Dean, along with their three children Jordan, Selah and Elias, serve with WMF in Buenos Aires, Argentina. There are a lot of reasons why I love this family. I’ll name a few to give you an idea of just how incredible they are! They are extremely fun, with a ton of energy that is contagious to those around them. They look and see the presence of God and the Kingdom all over. They listen well and love so deeply. And, they are just honest with how things are. I wish all of you knew them! Here is a little glimpse into the Deans…
This week was kind of a hard week. I say “kind of” only to soften the whine because I know everyone is dealing with his/her own challenges. It was hardish. OK, for me, it was hard. During the last two weeks, along with the rumblings of some seismic after-culture-shock, we have also been beset by some circumstantial challenges.
For starters, the kids returned to school, which all you parents know is a lovely prelude to a riot of childhood ailments and late night doctoring. This is further complicated for us as the better medical clinics in the city are fairly far from where we live, and we have to run the gauntlet of several subway lines and buses to arrive there. When the kids are sick, we can spend the better part of the day going back and forth on whether or not [child’s name here] needs to go to the doctor. We’ve gotten quite veteran-like at using household items to determine the severity of sore throats, whether or not a rash “blanches”, and doing all sorts of amateur tests for meningitis and pneumonia–murmuring and muttering to each other about our neophyte diagnoses.
This week, Jordan came home from school with a fever. Because of his previous history with febrile seizures, we have to monitor Jordan’s fevers carefully. Even though he hasn’t suffered a seizure in over six months and is supposed to be growing out of them, we still have to be somewhat diligent. The first night of his elevated temperature, sometime in the wee hours, he was deposited in a cool bath with the hopes of avoiding the dreaded seizure. It is always a bit of a tense time because he, like any sane person, hates a cool bath with a raging fever. In the throes of Operation-Avoid-A-Seizure, we realized that we were out of fever-reducing meds, so Jeremiah hopped on his bike and headed out into the rain to an all night pharmacy. During this interlude, Jordan had a small seizure, briefly slumping over in my arms, unresponsive. As always, no matter that he has had over 15 seizures now, I was alarmed and my heart ached for him. In those moments, I wonder when this challenge might cease for us.
Shortly after Jordan recovered, Jeremiah (soaked through) came home, deeply troubled by an experience on his way to the pharmacy: Pedaling furiously, he noticed the figure of a man lying down—unmoving and unaffected by the pouring rain—propped halfway between the sidewalk and the road. Determined to check on him on his return, Jeremiah hastily bought the needed bottle of children’s ibuprofen and some juice and crackers for the inert man. When Jeremiah reached the place where the man had been lying, he had not moved from his position despite the cold and rain. Jeremiah gently lifted him to a sitting position and asked him what he needed, offering him the crackers and juice. The man grunted unintelligibly and hungrily devoured the crackers and juice, shivering from exposure. When Jeremiah was sure that he was alert enough to find shelter, he came home, but not without a heavy heart.
I marveled that Jeremiah, in a moment of his own personal anguish and distress, recognized the suffering of another—that he found solidarity with this man in affliction and, moved by compassion, stopped and reached out to alleviate his suffering. Even as Jordan’s little body rested in my arms, this man’s weight pressed against Jeremiah’s arms. And that’s just it, isn’t it? We share this condition. And we have been given the opportunity to look outward, beyond our own challenges or maybe even through them, and to embody His love and compassion in a world that aches.
I carried these two images—Jordan in my arms and the vulnerable man in Jeremiah’s—through the following week of challenges, some irksome like cranky kids and runny noses and others much more serious like copious medical tests for Jordan. Though deep weariness set in, I thought about this man—his life, his wounds. How he wound up laying face up in the street in a pouring rainstorm. And my heart widened to embrace our solidarity and joy seeped in with the knowing that the dawn is coming.Let’s reread this one part, “We share this condition. And we have been given the opportunity to look outward, beyond our own challenges or maybe through them, and to embody His love and compassion in a world that aches.”
I just want to sit with that for a moment.
I don’t know what I did today, this week, last month, etc. that embodied God’s love and compassion. I don’t know when or how or with whom I looked outward. I do know that I am very concerned with myself and that I do not pursue opportunities to look outward (to see, to help, to serve, to love). I am sad to consider how comfortable and self-focused I have kept my life. Confronting this magnifies the abundance of God’s grace and calls out my dependence on Him to receive a heart that widens to embrace others. I want a heart like that and I want it for you too.
Peace and love.
Hilary
HUGE NEWS! This July, a fellow co-worker, Jeff Swart, and I will venture to S. America on a field visit! The first for both of us (eek!)! We are very excited to visit some of our friends and experience their life for a bit! And, we would love your support as we make preparations. So, jot it down, “RE: Jeff and Hilary—July”! Think of us. Pray for us. If you can and feel inclined, please make financial contributions to help offset the travel. Oh! I cannot wait to write about this!