A Series of Unfortunate or Fortunate Events

Children wander into my office all day long in my role as a nurse.  Mostly they come with a scrape or an upset stomach, needing a quick patching up or a place to rest for a bit.  Some of them are regulars who just seem to need the extra attention or a smile.   Some of them I only see once and they never need me again.  But every so often, someone wanders in, sits down, and just spills their heart.  I suppose they think that if you can trust a nurse with your hurt knee, maybe you can trust her with your hurting heart.  And so they sit and tell me the story of whatever it is that is troubling them enough that they can’t sit still in class or laugh with their friends.  Sometimes it’s as simple as a fight between friends, but sometimes it is far more complex.  Some of the stories make me want to cry too, as they share the hurts that are tearing their families apart, or the insecurities that lie beneath the surface of their smile.  There isn’t much that I can do to patch up these type of wounds, a band-aid won’t cover it, and an ice pack won’t sooth it.  Often what they need is just a listening ear, someone to hear their story and really listen; someone to acknowledge their hurt.  I think often that listening is a huge part of real nursing.  The hurts of our hearts are often as big as or bigger than the pain in our bodies.  And so many times I think they are related.  The aches and pains we feel in our bodies, so often begin in our hearts. 

On a particular afternoon when I walked into my office, I found someone already sitting there, head in hands.  I started with the most obvious questions to determine why they had come.  What is wrong?  Are you sick?  What is bothering you?  Why have you come? “ I don’t feel well” was the reply, “but I don’t think you can help me.”  From the tear stained eyes and the drooping shoulders, I could see that maybe I needed to sit down, so I pulled up a chair so we could see eye-to-eye, and I asked again, more gently this time; “what is wrong?”  Reluctantly at first, and then like a flood, the story came spilling out.  It was one of the type of stories that made me a bit teary too.  It was hard for them to share, and hard for me to hear.  When the story was complete, and I had asked a few more questions, it was time for me to respond.  My only response for this was to ask if we could pray.  It was the only response that would have been worthwhile.  They affirmed that they would like that, and so we did.  When I finished brining our case to the throne of grace, those tear stained eyes looked at me and asked, “Mrs. Clarke, do you really believe that God is real?”  It was a questions marked with longing and desperation. 

For a brief second the question sunk deeply into my heart, “do I really believe?” and my week, my month came flooding across my mind.  I not only believed it, but I had witnessed it, in ways that could not be explained by any other means.  The month of May was full of situations both in my own life and in the lives of those I loved that had driven me to my knees again and again.  I am not a person whose first instinct is to drop to my knees.  I am by nature a fixer and my first gut response is most often to dive in and find a solution.  I usually remember to ask for help a little bit later.  But this month had been full of those kind of situations where I was painfully aware that I had NO control over what would happen.  My only choice was to fall to my knees and ask the one who is sovereign over all to intercede.  And in every situation, He had answered in big bold ways; ways that could not be explained by coincidence or accident.  I am slowly learning that the most powerful thing I CAN do is drop to my knees and ask for help, because the one I am asking to help me, is the King. 

So when I looked into those tearful eyes, desperate for hope, I could say with deep confidence from the bottom of my heart and soul, “Yes, I do believe.  I believe with no doubt or hesitation. Just this week I have seen Him answer my pleas in ways I didn’t even know how to ask for. When I go to the throne of grace, I don’t just hope that He can hear or that He cares, I know it.  I have experienced the reality of Him“   I don’t know how He will answer in this situation, but I believe that He will.  Nothing is too broken for Him to fix, and He loves us more deeply than we will ever be able to comprehend. 


A series of Unfortunate Events, a Crazy Coincidence, a Happy Accident:  These are all terms that our world uses to describe the unexplainable things that happen in their lives.  But I don’t believe in any of that.  There are no coincidences or accidents, there is only Him.  And He is working tirelessly and lovingly through our joys and pains to allow us to see what is unseen, an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison. 

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