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The two sides of the mirror

Friday, August 3, 2012


I stare at the mirror, in front of me, and there she is, looking straight into my eyes: my image. She is a copy of me and yet, she is gone as soon as I leave. She is the other half that stands always next to where I stand, the reflection that tells me the way I am.

However, not all mirrors are true to the image. Some elongate, some shorten the self, some make us look full of blurt beauty, others, full of bare truth. They are a good try, but not the reality. They shine a distorted picture of who I know to be. But do I know who I ought to be?

And the question pounds as the day goes... Is this image the one I am supposed to be or just a distorted version? Because in the beginning a clearer picture was created, the true one, from whom I am only the image, and as distant as I am from that sight, the more I long to be brought closer to it. To become the original copy, before all got blurred.

God looked around, after those first six days of creation and saw that it was good. Nature was good, seasons were good, the ocean with its bubbling life and the earth with moving creeping things all singing praises and reflecting the miracle of creation were good. Man steps in, and then the woman, completion. A place with fullness of good.

Isn't a place abundant with good and with God's glory, enough? A material world without the distortion, the cracked mirrors, rewarded with beauty's full sight, carrying God's touch in every touch? But there was more to see, yes, the hidden truth, the one God had kept out of creation, the chaos, the evil, rotting death. And who would want to see it, when it would stop the smile, the praising, the joy? But Eve wanted to see the other side of the mirror, the one God had kept out, for a good reason.

She peaked and in an instant was swelled by it. Sure she could know good and evil now, but the other side of the mirror, where evil, chaos and rotting death is, is Godless. It is dark, ugly and it hurts. Eve wanted to be like God, but how could the moon be like the sun when its purpose is only to reflect and not to produce light?

A distorted image looks at me. Because the true image is far gone, the one that stayed in the Garden, the one supposed to have lasted. And all we got is a resemblance of how good it once looked, a mirror covered in steam, rays of light escaping here and there but oh, so much pain. Painful to be stuck in the wrong side of the mirror.

As I read through my Bible I start to see the light, the way out of this sinking reality. God gifted us with a way to a real image, not the first one, but a heavenly one, even better. A new man! A new women! A new creation!! How can that be possible? "As we have borne the image of the man of dust, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly Man". 1 Cor 15:49

A step outside the peeking in. A rescue from the ugly, dark, shadow cloud. Christ Jesus steps into this wrong side of the mirror, to free us out of it, even when it meant to pour Himself like water, to feel all the glass pieces tearing Him apart. And yet, He starts a new beginning, away from wrong sides and distorted images. A firstborn of the new creation, an open way to followers. "To be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among may brethren". Rom 8:29

There is still hope, even inside this present, the start of healing. "But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as by the Spirit of the Lord" 2 Cor 3:18. It beholds in letting it go of trying to be gods, burying ourselves in Jesus arms, grabbing unto His salvation with repentance, letting His grace soften the last bits of no's, allowing His glory to shine.

Can we see the whole picture? Can we soak in His love and trust? Peak at the other side and rest assured that this is only a distorted image awaiting for His full glory to make all things right? Can we live by faith?

"The Lord Jesus Christ, Who will transform our lowly body that it may be conformed to His glorious body, according to the working by which He is able even to subdue all things to Himself". Phi 3:21
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Judas, the son of a Religion

Thursday, July 12, 2012


It is a huge privilege and also a big  responsibility to be the children of parents that love and follow Jesus. To be the children of parents that walk so close to God that His touch is visible and clear in so many ways. Children that got to watch from the front row God working in their parent's lives in amazing forms, children that have not just heard of God, but have seen Him through their parents.

Once upon a time, there was such a son. Nebuchadnezzar was king over Babylon and had invaded Jerusalem taking with him all their wealth, gold, silver and even their best people to serve at his palace. But his heart became so proud that God touched his life and made him like the beasts, looking like a fool, until he recognized his pride, and worshiped God that is above all. "Now I, Nebuchadnezzar, praise and extol and honor the King of heaven, all of whose works are truth, and His ways justice. And those who walk in pride He is able to put down." Dan 4:37

Now you would think that Nebuchadnezzar's children, after watching him go through such a powerful experience, would have learned themselves a lesson. But his son, Belshazzar, the successor of the throne, once he became king, acted completely against God. Belshazzar decided to have a party and use the vessels and cups that were from the temple in Jerusalem to drink wine and praise the gods of gold and silver, bronze and iron, wood and stone. (Dan 5:4) However, God was watching, and He through the prophet Daniel warns him: "But you his son, Belshazzar, have not humbled your heart, although you knew all this (about what happened to his father). And you have lifted yourself up against the Lord of heaven.... And the God who holds your breath in His hand and owns all your ways, you have not glorified". Dan 5:22,23 And at that same night Belshazzar was killed by another king that took over his kingdom.

"Although you knew all this". What a powerful statement! The elders, chief priests and teachers of law that killed Jesus were all descendant of those who had watched the Red Sea open, who ate manna that fell from the skies and saw a strong wall around Jericho falling down by itself, among thousands of other miracles. And they had heard their parents tell them about these stories over and over again. They knew all this. And yet, they killed the Son of God. Why? Because they had become children of a Religion, and not children of God.

Judas, was also the son of a Religion. He was such a good follower of his religion that he did exactly what the top people of his religion wanted him to do: he delivered Jesus to them. And just like Belshazzar, he gave more praise to the gods of gold and silver, bronze and iron, wood and stone, as he was more interested in money than in God Himself. "What are you willing to give me if I deliver Him to you? and they counted out to him thirty pieces of silver". Mat 26:15

Jesus had fed Judas, had opened the eyes of the blind, resurrected the dead, made the lame walk. Judas knew all this, he knew from hearing his parents tell him the stories from the past, he knew from watching with his own eyes the miracles Jesus was performing. But he chose to follow a religion instead.

Are you the son or daughter of a religion? Or are you the son or daughter of God? Are you just following your parents rituals, or are you following Jesus? Now, Jesus calls the sons of Religion, sons of the devil. "If God were your Father, you would love Me, for I proceeded forth and came from God... you are of your father the devil, and the desires of your father you want to do". Jo 8:42-44


Who do you rather have as your father: the devil, a liar and a murderer; or God, the Truth and giver of eternal life? "But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name". Jo 1:12 If you are not following Jesus, you are following something else, maybe you think that you are following the gods of gold and silver, like Judas, but Judas was really following a lie, he was following his father, the devil.


What else does Jesus has to do to catch your attention? He already gave Himself, His life, His body, His suffering and all His love to you. He wants God to be your Father. God wants to hear you call him Abba Father, He wants to free you from serving the other father, the devil. He wants to give you life, abundant life. He wants you to live so close to Him that His touch is visible and clear in so many occasions and let you watch Him working in your life in amazing ways, that you may truly see Him with your eyes as a child of God yourself.
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Free Book Online: A Fight for Life (Chapter Five - Part 2)

Thursday, July 5, 2012


Dear Diary,

When the stretcher appeared at my unit corridor, I got a glimpse of the new patient being admitted, a girl mostly hidden under hospital sheets. Her face was also hiding behind a protection mask, from which only her half opened eyes could be seen. She was quickly brought to our special isolated room. Her fate for the next days was a heartbreaking picture.

I got dressed with all the available protection layers to enter the room and examine her. I felt obese wearing the extra pounds of clothing but there is no risk worthy being taken when so much information about this disease is still unknown. I would rather err wearing too much protection than too little. 

I got a detailed report from the professionals that brought her in and a pile of documents and copies of exam results. Our staff doctor was also present to receive the information and pass it on to the specialists when they arrive to examine the girl. The information we received was very vague with no conclusive diagnosis; it would be our job to develop from that on. But even without a specific diagnosis, the nursing team had more than enough work to get done to improve the conditions of our new patient. 

The next step was clear to me: to walk in the room and start the care. One step at a time towards whatever risk she posed to me, a practical act of faith in the protection barriers that were keeping me separated from the infecting agents that she carried. Hopefully it would be the beginning of her healing and not the end of my health!

Cautiously I opened the first door to her room, then the next, peeking inside as I moved closer. I wanted first   to make her feel accepted and loved, with a warming welcome talk before even starting to prescribe nursing care. I knew the best care is the one that sees the other as a person, and not as a group of organs. 

Her hair was spread on the pillow, many curls, dark as her eyes. Her skin, naturally tanned, was pale across her face, except around her eyes where dark circles made her appearance look sad. She kept coughing as I approached, bringing up the hard reality that her inside was probably looking very ugly. 

I started the talk bringing up casual facts to sound less like a medical interview and more like meeting a new friend. Her name was Melissa. 

"Hi Melissa, you have a very pretty name, you know?! I once heard that Melissa is the name of a beautiful plant with white flowers that calms people down, have you ever heard that"? I asked. 

"No, I have not" she whispered back. 

"That is what I heard... and I think you are also a beautiful girl as the flower and I am going to guess that you are also very calm." 

Melissa, a nine year old girl, coughed and smiled: "Do you think so"? she asked.

 "Of course, when I have some time I will try to get a picture of the plant Melissa with the beautiful flowers so you can see it for yourself, ok"? I added. She then kept talking between her coughing.

"My brother is not very calm, but I always listen to what my mom says."

I smiled back: "I am sure your mother is very proud of you"!

I kept the conversation on as I started to examine her, so that she would not feel too tense. I wanted to make sure she would not have any extra unnecessary anxiety to deal with. After I was done, I left her resting. I knew that soon the nurses on my team would start bringing in the medications and implementing direct care. We would do our best to treat her as a person and not as a scary disease.

I went back to my forms trying to describe all the aspects that I had just examined and come up with specific cares that would meet all her needs for the first 24 hours. As a side note I wrote down to remember to bring a picture of the plant Melissa for her to see. A little reminder that she was special and cared for and that we could start a little friendship that would go over all the scary protection gear. 

What I told Melissa about her likeness to the plant was not untrue or just a way to make her feel better. Despite the sick look, her face transmitted peace and calm, just like the plant. The paleness on her skin and the shortness of breath saddened her facial expressions, but her eyes were still sending a special look around.

I have always been intrigued by the look inside the eyes of some of the children that I attend. Like if they were transmitting a message without words, that I have been trying to understand better lately. It is not easy to decode the message, but it seems that when I look right inside their eyes I become more connected with them, and they trust me more in response.

Deep inside, deeper than the pupil, there are imprisoned feelings, tied, trying to escape to the real world. Some children, after years of suffering because of a chronic disease, display opaque looks, weakened and conformed to the little light their hearts still carry, with feeble beats. Others, still filled with hope, irradiate an energy that longs to be freed from the disease. However, I can never forget that small percentage of children that do not transmit any look with their eyes. They live inside darkness, blinded by different causes, with eyes shut to light. Yet, even then, as I have learned with my brother, they can irradiate light and energy with their beings. 

I wish I could share many more things with you, Dear Diary, but I am exhausted. I still have the energy, though, to thank you for your inspiration helping me to write my brother's story. The previous chapter was a proof of that, I could not stop typing!

Good night,
L.
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Beauty for Ashes

Sunday, June 24, 2012


Ashes mean the end of hope, when there is absolutely nothing left, not even profitable to be burned off! Ashes are a picture of the lowest we can go. Ashes were used in the past to show how sad a person was, how down their hearts felt, they would cover their clothes and head with ashes as a public testimony of their sadness and despair

We all have periods of ashes in our lives, when hope reaches its end, when there is no beauty to look for, no perspective. There are also many people in this world living in ashes for most of their lives, people being slaved, people suffering persecution, pain and sorrows, living inside war zones. Everything around them are ashes, ashes and more ashes. As grey and as opaque as they get, nothing to reflect light and shine.

The response of many is to look up and ask: Why? Or maybe to point their fingers at God and blame Him for all the evil happening in the world, or even to go as far as to deny His own existence, because they don't agree with the way He is running things. But regardless if we decide not to believe that there is a God, or to accuse God for the evil happening in the world, we still have to deal with our own ashes. They won't go away by denying God or by blaming God, they are still covering our clothes and our hearts.

What is the solution, then? There was a man named Job that suffered the loss of all his belongings, his children and his health. He was left with nothing, just ashes. However, God wanted to transform those ashes and bring beauty out of them, so God works on Job's heart one step at a time to transform his very inside. God asks Job some tough questions in the process, that could be asked to many today: "Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell me if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements? Surely you know!... Shall the one who contends with the Almighty correct Him? He who rebukes God, let him answer it... Would you condemn Me that you may be justified? Have you an arm like God?" Job 38:4,5 40:2,8,9.

God was touching the very core of Job's heart to show that He is far beyond human understanding, becoming even ridiculous for us to point a finger at God: the very same finger He created! But remember that God was not trying to scare the life out of Job, He loved Job and wanted to move all the pride away to make place for something better, something more beautiful. Job reaches that state when he says "I know that You can do everything, and that no purpose of Yours can be withheld from You. ... I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees You. Therefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." Job 42:2,5,6

Now my eye sees You!! There was so much that needed to be burned off and turned into ashes to open the way for Job to see God! To see His glory, His wisdom, His power, but also His love and grace. God, at the end of Job's trial, blesses him back with twice more than he had before. He has more 10 children and his daughters are the most beautiful women in all their land. It is indeed a happy ending.

Jesus Christ came to this earth to give beauty for ashes. The entire Bible is filled with stories of ashes transformed into beauty by God, but the most beautiful of these stories is when God transforms the murder of His son Jesus Christ, the worst ashes that this world could have ever produced, into the most beautiful beauty: the salvation of men. Jesus Christ was covered with ashes (Lam 3:16), He took upon Himself all of our ashes, all of our despair and ugliness and suffered for each one of them. And after His body had been dead, instead of returning to dust, He was resurrected, bringing hope to our own ashes.

God did not leave us alone to deal with our own ashes, and He is not allowing evil to happen because He does not care. He cares so much that Jesus Christ received upon His body every one of our ashes, and He did it because He loves you. There is no ash that cannot be transformed into beauty. If you truly believe that He died for you, that He brought a solution to all the evil in the world by suffering the judgement for it against His own heart, He can transform your own ashes into beauty.

Just be aware that if God came down here today to destroy all the evil in the world, He would have to destroy your heart and my heart because we are also part of the problem. But He didn't come as a Judge yet, He still offers a solution to the problem of evil in your heart.

Do you want to end evil in the world? Start with you own heart, let him change it, mold it to His shape of love. What about the ashes that may still come to our lives because we live in an evil world? Remember also that the end of our story is not when we die; eternity is awaiting with more than double, more than triple of blessings for those who accept His solution.

There are no ashes that can't be transformed into beauty, just hand them to Him.
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Free Book Online: A Fight for Life - Chapter Five (Part 1)

Wednesday, June 20, 2012



CHAPTER FIVE (Part 1)

Not Afraid to Get Her Hands Dirty

Maria smiled. It was good to be back home, she thought, relieved that she would not have to face any more of these trips again. No one could possibly enjoy the uncomfortable bus seats that after a few hours felt like poking every bone and muscle of her back. Neither would she miss the hard wooden benches outside the doctor's offices, where hours felt like weeks. The only pleasant memory left behind was of her family of friends, as she was extremely thankful for having a place to stay while away, with money being so tight on her side to pay for hotel stays.

After being back for about a week, Maria's daily routine had already picked up back to the usual, life as she knew it: busy, crowed and happy. As she finished getting lunch ready, running around the kitchen, chopping, mixing and seasoning, she kept an eye on her younger son, now with his vision fully back, playing with his siblings. She was so glad for having him as her son and there was no question that he was just one of the reasons to keep going, keep pouring energy into these kids. She knew that to invest in human beings was worth all her time, as each one carried a potential, like a pearl, awaiting the right time to shine.

Her youngest was the proof of that. Once a frustrated child, living in a world of darkness, having trouble understanding the environment around him, now transformed into a happy little boy, with light back to his life. Maria cheered inside when she thought of his transformation and could not hide her excitement for his future, once uncertain, but now filled with hope. If she could, she would love to change the reality of all children afflicted with a difficult reality, but unfortunately there was not much she could do to stretch even more her time and energy among all the children.

Maria still had on the back of her mind the story of the boy in need of a new home. She knew that the case was well beyond her ability to handle, but something had to be done. The situation was unacceptable, and no excuse in the world was enough to spare her from the guilt of letting the boy suffer. If the child died, she would feel as responsible for it as the mother should, because she was now part of the problem. Therefore, she decided to act and get the address of the child with the employer at the general store, so she could go and pay a visit to the boy.

Next day, with the address on hand, Maria found the slum, and with some help asking around, she found the shack. Her heart was pounding fast as she approached it; she wasn't sure if she was ready to watch what was coming next. Maria had already been to other slums before, but this one was the worst for sure. Sewage running wild outside, attracting flies, rats and animals of the kind to its ugliness. The shacks were distributed in a disorganized way, adding to the feeling of chaos.

She stared at the shack where the child was supposed to be. Rotted wooden boards hammered together made up the structure of the shack, leaving many open gaps between the boards. She clapped her hands as there was no doorbell. A child came to the door, in worst conditions than the shack itself. Maria asked for his mother and he signed for her to follow him inside. The mother, still recovering from her last night of alcohol and who knows what else, sat on a corner, blowing cigarette smoke in the darkness. Maria froze inside. The stink reached her nose and she tried to hold her breakfast inside her stomach. The only light of the place was the one coming from the gaps in the wooden boards and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw the boy in the back of the shack, lying on a mattress on the floor.

His mattress was made of dried straw covered by a dirt piece of cloth. He looked like dead, with a rope tied to his leg, probably to keep him from leaving his bed. Maria felt like being inside a nightmare, and tried to find words to speak to the mother. She had never seen a child in such deplorable conditions before. During funerals, the dead looked better than this child.

The boy kept coughing, breaking the silence. Maria took a few steps towards him, but the mother started to scream, as she raised her body barely dressed from the corner. By her speech, it sounded as if she was still under the influence of alcohol, or something else. Maria tried to explain herself, but the women took something in her hand ready to throw and started to run after Maria. All that Maria could do was to get out of that shack and out of that slum, as fast as she could.

When feeling safe again, she could barely breathe as she recovered from the shock of what had just happened. During that night, Maria could not close her eyes either, as tears kept rolling down her cheeks just to think about the boy left behind in that shack. Her husband tried to comfort her but he had no idea how bad the whole experience had been to her, an open wound too deep to be closed in one night. And yet, behind the tears, Maria knew that crying was not the solution.

Next morning, still taken by emotions, Maria started to come up with a plan to rescue the boy. She called many people she knew, in one last hope. Maybe one family, somewhere, would give her some hope. Unfortunately, the response was the same everywhere she turned: very distant, vague, away from hope. The institutions she called were already overcrowded and had no place for a child with so many complications. There was nothing exciting about rescuing this boy; he was a picture of failure from top to bottom. So finally a question crossed her mind, "Why would anyone want a child that I am rejecting myself?" Hard as it was to act on it, she developed a strategy: if until the end of the week nobody had responded to her appeal, she would bring the boy to her own home.

And that was when the phone rang, dispersing her latest thoughts, and she wondered if it was her husband calling from the supermarket, with questions about the list of groceries that she had handled to him before. However, her husband was not the one on the other side of the telephone line. The call was, in fact, very different than most of the calls she had ever received, because this call changed so much, it changed a life, it changed my family, it changed who I am.

That call offered that boy a chance to live, and to my family, a chance to learn how to live.
Maria could not hold her excitement as my father told her that my family was interested in adopting the boy. She was speechless, extremely happy, but a little worried too. What if she had pushed the subject too much on them, and made them feel guilty? Forced them to adopt? It had never been her plan to push them to adopt anyone. She had just shared the story hoping that they would know someone interested in adopting a child. She did not want my parents to do it out of guilt.

However, once she heard my father share about the months my family spent praying for a child, she was filled with peace. She understood she had been just the messenger, and my family was more than ready to take on the challenge, as we had waited for this child and put a lot of thought into it; this boy was definitively supposed to join my family. Maria promised to help with all the paperwork necessary to fulfill the adoption. She had experience with the process and would not mind doing it for my parents.

My parents also knew they still had to be approved by the State to receive the child, as the adoption process had some restrictions to protect children from being given in adoption to people with the intent of abusing, slavering or even using them for organ trafficking.

Being aware of the many steps to be taken to accomplish an adoption, Maria started the process that same day. However, the judge, responsible for such cases, had his schedule already full with other hearings. There was no way she would be able to get a hearing in the next weeks. Because she personally knew the judge, she reached his secretary to explain that the life of a child was in jeopardy. But after many messages left, she still did not hear back from him, so she kept calling. Finally, the secretary was able to speak to the judge but he did not open any exceptions for the case and stated that she would have to wait at least a month for an available date.

A month would be an eternity for that boy! Under such deploring circumstances he would be lucky if he was still alive next week. His situation was very serious, undernourished, suffering of a chronic cough and without any responsible care. He could not wait for the judge's schedule and Maria was not going to sit around and just hope for the best.

Maria knew that there was only one more thing that she could do. So she went back to the slum. This time she would be in charge, she would not run away from the mother, she was going to rescue that child even if she had to fight the mother. No one would stop her from doing what was right.

As she arrived at the shack, she was surprised to find the mother sober, with a different attitude towards her.  The mother agreed that Maria could take the boy; in fact she was happy to give him away and would have given her other son as well, if possible. This time, Maria saw the mother under a different light, as a human being oppressed by her own history of poverty and abuse. A grown up child, lost inside the ugly world of alcohol and prostitution.

Maria carried the boy out of the shack in her arms, as far as possible from such reality. She made a promised to herself, that no matter what, even if the judge did not agree with what she had done, she would never bring the boy back to that shack. Even if she had to abduct him!

From the slum, she went straight to the judge's office with the boy in her arms. She ran through the corridors towards his office, her steps loudly pounding against the floor. Without asking for it, she opened the door to his office, looked into the judge's eyes and showing the boy, asked "Your Honor, this boy cannot wait for an entire month to be adopted, could he?" The judge stared petrified. The picture he witnessed that day is probably still imprinted in his mind, as in all of the ones that were inside that room.

The paperwork was simplified, the case was prioritized and taken care with urgency. On that same day Maria got a written permission to keep the boy until all the adoption documents were ready for my parents to sign. The paperwork, however, was not the problem now, but to pour some life back into the boy's body.

Maria decided first to take the boy to her own home, as his body smelled like overdue garbage. Once at home, she opened all the windows so that his smell would not make her throw up. She had never smelled something so repugnant coming out of a person, it seemed like his body was decomposing from inside out while still alive. Maria could not grasp how his mother could have gotten used to live under such non humane conditions to the point of not minding the smell at all.

After hydrating him with a homemade electrolyte drinkable solution, and feeding him some food, she bathed him with warm and clean water, scrubbing off with a gentle soap all his history of dirt. The water came out dark, soaked with dirt, and she kept washing him until his skin was truly clean. She had a hard time washing his curly hair with shampoo as there were so many knots tangled together that she decided to get a pair of scissors and just chop everything off, carefully. She was aware his head was probably covered with lice and she did not want to spread them around her home.

While washing him, he kept fighting against the water, resisting something that probably he was not familiar with. Maria had two of her older children helping to hold his body, as he screamed shouts of disapproval, producing scared looks in the faces of the kids. Maria could see that he was really terrified of the water; he would cover both of his ears with his hands, and splash water around as he kicked his legs. Even her soft voice and calming words could not calm him down, but she knew that he had to be cleaned first before she could even take him to see a doctor.

She then dried his skin slowly with a soft towel, trying to observe all his body. Maria noticed that he had some unusual repetitive movements, in a pattern. One of them was to rub one hand against the other under his chin, something that reminded her of autistic kids. She spread some lotion across his body, massaging his skin and trying to relax him. After that, she dressed him with a diaper and clean clothes she took from her kids' closet, as his old traps were already in the garbage.

Maria kept offering him more electrolyte solution and then some warm liquid soup. He looked very hungry and thirsty, but because he kept coughing so often, all the food had to be given slowly, one spoon at a time, to keep him from throwing up.

Deep inside, Maria knew that this experience was not only changing him, it was changing herself, and it was changing her own kids. There was not anything more fulfilling than to bring a child from the before to the after, while at the same time being an example to her own children about how to care for other people. Some of them had been adopted from traumatic conditions, but none from such terrible state. None of her speeches could have been more powerful to her children than the one they watched on that day.

After offering the boy a first care, Maria knew that this was how far she could go by herself as she was not a specialized health care professional. She knew that the next step would be to take him to the urgent care clinic as her city did not have a proper hospital, being a small town. If they thought that his case needed extra help, they could transfer him to a big hospital. As far as she could tell, the initial help he needed could probably be accomplished in the clinic, and any specialized treatments could be done once my parents received him.

At the urgent care clinic, she had to wait a few hours to be seen, as the public health care clinic was overwhelmed with more patients than enough professionals to attend them. When she finally made it to the doctor, he prescribed intravenous saline with some medicines and then an oral solution with vitamins and minerals to be given at home. He also encouraged Maria to keep feeding him every two hours, with soups, mashed fruits and cream of cereal, and lots of liquid. The only restriction was milk; she should wait a few days before offering milk to him, making sure his body would accept it, without upsetting his digestive tract.

Maria did not have that many days to extend the treatment, as the adoption paperwork became available and he was healthy enough to survive an airplane trip and be brought to my family. A long bus trip was out of question, as he deserved, once in his life, to be treated with dignity. The dignity every child in the world deserves.

Book: A fight for Life
CHAPTER 5 (Part 2)
CHAPTER 6 (Part 1) coming soon...
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Free Book Online: A Fight for Life - Chapter Four (Part 2)

Wednesday, June 13, 2012




Dear Diary,

During my nostalgic crisis going through old pictures, I took aside a very special one and hung it on my wall to keep the memory alive. I have seen this picture many times before, but I had never noticed the details, the facial expressions and their meaning. The picture was taken one year after my brother's adoption.

I am staring again at the picture, and I can see myself there, cozy in my bed under a red flowery duvet, lying next to my two brothers, Pedro and Lucas. Pedro is very close to me and we both smile with contentment. Lucas shows signs of being sleepy, probably wishing for a good night of sleep. It looks like a winter night as we have warm pajamas on and enjoy the closeness. I just wish my hair was not so messy!

I was probably reaching seven years old at the time of the picture, having started first grade at a public school, three blocks away from our apartment. I was still getting used to the idea of attending such a big school away from home. My previous experience with schools had been going to a small kindergarten, across the street from our building, where there were probably not more than 10 kids in my class, and only one other girl besides me. So indeed, it was a big adjustment.

As I stare at the picture, I hear a thousand words, captured with a click. These were some good childhood times, with a safe distance from adulthood, away from many worries. My main responsibility was to do well at school and show good behavior.

Lately, as a professional, there are so many more decisions on my hands, some that I will probably regret of taking later on. I know that what I am going through now, the fact that I will have to admit in my unit a child with a disease that is still unknown, is a decision from which I can't hide or run away. But I have decided to take on the challenge and face what may follow. This morning, I could sense the weight on my team's thoughts as they were getting ready for the new patient. All of us have already received a quick training from the specialists and learned some information about the disease; we also have the special isolated room ready to go. But there are still many unanswered questions.

I called all of my team to a special meeting as we had to choose the main people that were going to oversee the case. I did not want to force anyone to start with the direct care, but felt like leaving to those that felt more comfortable taking on the challenge. Some had come to talk to me privately sharing their concern of risking their lives while they have families at home to support. However, one experienced person in our team told me that he would like to take on the case, so I will leave the case to him at first.

We are vulnerable but we also know that we have many protective barriers to be used. The isolated bedroom is specially built to keep the inside air from coming outside, paired with a system of filters to decrease contamination, besides all the individual masks and body surface covers.

It will surely not be the best humanized care, as the patient is being cared by people covered from head to toe, that look more like astronauts than real human beings. A barrier of gowns, glasses, masks, gloves will make it difficult for any emotional exchange during care. But there is no other way; it is our goal to stop the spreading of something that could take away many lives. On the bright side, the isolated bedroom contains many children's art painted on its walls creating a space of hope and beauty to overcome the sadness. I wish the ceiling was also covered with art, as most of the time the sick children have the ceiling as their only horizon.

Later on this morning, I got a call informing that the child will be on her way to our hospital tomorrow; a special ambulance will be responsible for the transfer and they will arrive early on my shift. The child is a little girl that has been under observation in her hometown hospital since she started to show some specific symptoms of this disease. However, they don't have the appropriate settings to prevent contamination, so it was decided that she needed to be transferred to our more equipped setting. Her case has not yet been confirmed with 100% surety to be the unknown disease, because a big part of the diagnosis depends on the symptoms, but we are going to take care of her with the precautions as if she was already a confirmed case.

The unit seems to be under regressive counting. We all know that if the case is confirmed we could be the first ones to treat such disease in our country and our team could even enter history as the heroes that gave their lives to save humanity. Maybe my name will be quoted next to Florence Nightingale or Ana Néri, as a nurse that made a difference. Or maybe, after having given our lives, we may just be forgotten. One way or another, I know that nursing is more than just a call; it is also a profession like many others where you have to study a lot and be qualified. Compassion, emotions and emphatic feelings are very important but it is not all about that, there is also professionalism and competence.

Once in a while, while in school, to break free from so much technical knowledge, I enjoyed reading poetry, and also writing some. I once read an article that stated that the unconscious is able to open up through poetry. The article got me thinking, so I tried to write poetry using only my unconscious side (or at least that is how I like to think), not bringing up any conscious thoughts, but just letting the mind run free and writing down whatever words came out, following a rhythm.

At first, I was not successful, but after some practice I was surprised by the results of such activity. Distant words gathered together and brought up beautiful meaning. After all, I guess the article was right, the unconscious really opens up when we allow it, and inside its content there is much more than I ever imagined. Or that or I am gifted with this unusual art and should find a way to turn it into profit!

After practicing with a few "unconscious" poems, I decided to find out what was inside my unconscious brain about nursing. I dedicated the poem "To the Florence Nightingales" and started to work on it. (If you are unfamiliar with Florence Nightingale, I suggest that you look up her name, as learning about her life will help you to understand better the content of the poem) The words first came out confusing, however, after finishing it and reading it, I realized that there was some meaning and beauty about the history of nursing inside my unconscious!

To the Florence Nightingales

Whitewashed figures around spaces,
Forming fractions of performance,
Interdict each burst of terror,
Fear, anguish and longing.

Handling injured aspects,
Confused with the fatal scenario,
Delivering trapped sweetness,
In chest captive smiles.

Feelings being spread, hungry,
For the desire of pure care,
Facilitated by the emphatic forms,
Fitted with a winged character.

The touch of high heels in motion,
Evoke powerful spells,
Capable of socializing weepings,
Constrained to the bed mourning.

The power is not limited to the contained,
In the powder, liquid or instrument,
But to the fine manners, to the respect,
For the other, being, subject.

Rewards, excluded of gains,
Summarized by the look, by the satisfaction,
From faces illuminated by the spirit,
Of the givers of contentment.

My poetry phase has already ended, but I learned that maybe I could use this same resource with my patients. To restore from their unconscious, treasures that could free them from the pain their conscious is feeling, opening their perception so they can hear what they are telling themselves.

Good night,
L.
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Perfect Beauty

Tuesday, June 12, 2012




Beauty is the word of the day. If you get your body in a certain shape, if you get your hair in a certain style and if you get your skin to glow in a certain way, you are set for success. That is the message, aim for perfection, nothing less. Work as hard as you can, and one day, some day, you may get there. Get where  the models have gotten, where the professional sports players have gotten, where the Hollywood stars have gotten: to the land of the beautiful and in shape.

And if your work can't get you there, don't worry, just give your money away to the specialists and they will fix you up. Just don't give up, because perfection is just around the corner. Depressing message, anyone? How about a different message, the one where you don't have to aim for becoming a perfect creature but seeking the perfect creator?

Saint Augustine once wrote, "Beauty is indeed a good gift of God; but that the good may not think it a great good, God dispenses it even to the wicked." Wise King Solomon said, "Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing." Prob. 31:30.

Once upon a time there was a man, and "there was not a more handsome person than he among the children of Israel. From his shoulders upward he was taller than any of the people." 1 Sam. 9:2. He was the chosen one to be the first king of Israel because the people of Israel did not want to be reigned "only" by God, they wanted to be like the nations around them. So God, even knowing that they would be in a worst situation having a king, allowed them to have just what they wanted: Saul, the perfect-looking king.

However, their perfect looking king did not follow God's order right from the start of his reign and even got to the point of disobeying God's straight command to go and destroy the enemy king of the Amalekites and all that he had. As a result, God rejects him as a king and chooses instead a young and not as manly looking man called David, because: "The Lord does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." 1 Sam. 16:7.

Many and many years later, once upon a time, there was an orphan young lady, Esther, who was in fact a relative to the previous king Saul. She was now living with the people of Israel under the bondage of a foreign king, in a foreign land, and it did not matter anymore if king Saul had once been a king, or that she was part of the same family as his.

Now the king of this kingdom was looking for a wife and searched everywhere for a beautiful lady to be the queen. Esther was chosen among the ladies because "she was lovely and beautiful", and "Esther was taken to King Ahsuerus, into his royal palace ... and the king loved Esther more than all the other women, and she obtained grace and favor in his sight more than all the virgins: so he set the royal crown upon her head." Esther 2:16-17.

She was chosen by the king because of her beauty, but she was chosen by God because she had a special mission to accomplish. She at one point had to stand up against Haman (believed to be a descendant of that same king of the Amalekites that Saul spared), to save her people. And to accomplish that, she had to take a difficult position: "And so I will go to the king, which is against the law; and if I perish, I perish!" Esther 4:16. She was ready to die for her people, she was a true queen at heart!!

Esther had become the queen of a kingdom that went from India to Ethiopia, and she could have hidden her identity and watched the people of her heritage suffer, while enjoying the luxuries of being loved by such a powerful king. However, she chose not only to be beautiful, but to be wise and follow God's purpose for her life saving her people.

God gives people beauty, but He reminds us that, "A woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands and let her own works praise her in the gates." Prob. 31:30. Esther let her own works praise her in the gates, not her beauty. A holiday was started in her memory, called Purim, celebrated by the people of Israel. Saul's works did not stand up to his beauty and he died a tragic death, missing the purpose he could have fulfilled as a king.

"And thus beauty, which is indeed God’s handiwork, but only a temporal, carnal, and lower kind of good, is not fitly loved in preference to God, the eternal, spiritual, and unchangeable good." Saint Augustine.

What kind of beauty are you looking for, a beautiful body that will last a few years and nothing more, or a beautiful heart, that reflects the beauty of God, in Christ?

"For He shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground:
He has no form or comeliness;
and when we see Him, there is no beauty that we should desire Him.

He is despised, and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief:
And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him;
He was despised; and we did not esteem Him.

Surely he has borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows;
Yet we esteemed Him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted.
But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities;
the chastisement for our peace was upon him; and by His stripes we are healed."
Isaías 53:2-5
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Mary, the teenager

Monday, May 28, 2012


Would you trust a teenager to be part of the salvation plan for humanity? Would you entrust a teenager with raising a king? Would you think that a teenager would be mature enough or spiritual enough to carry the Son of God in her womb? I don't know about you, but I would not. And yet, God chose Mary, the teenager.

The Bible does not state how old Mary was when she conceived Jesus by the Holy Spirit, but according to the tradition of those days, girls would be given to marriage very early in their lives, and most believe that Mary would have been no older than 17 years old at the time the Angel spoke to her.

It is hard to see through the cultural differences, understand how mature a Jewish teenager girl would have been during the time Jesus was born, but one thing is for sure, a 14 years old girl at that time meant that she had lived 14 years, the same for a 14 years old today. So how does a teenager is said by the angel "for you have found favor with God"? Luke 1:30. I remember another man to whom the same is said: Noah "But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord" Gen 6:8. And how is Noah described? "Noah was a just man, perfect in his generations, Noah walked with God" Gen 6:9.

We have a tendency in our culture to give free pass for teenagers to have fun, enjoy life, spend time with friends and pursue their own interests. There is nothing wrong in itself with those things, but sometimes I wonder if instead of a maturing age, teenager years have become a free pass to be immature. God chose a teenager to receive the most beautiful news any ear could have heard "You will conceive in your womb and bring forth a Son, and shall call His name Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Highest; and the Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David. And He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of His kingdom there will be no end". Luke 1:31-33.

All the prophets and kings in the Old Testament would have given anything to listen to such words. And yet, God did not chose a prophet, a priest or a king to hear them. God chose a teenager. Why? Mary understood why. She says "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior. For He has regarded the lowly state of His maidservant... He has put down the mighty from their thrones and exalted the lowly" Luke 1:47-52. Because all glory goes to God. He chooses the humble, the maidservants, the lowly, the hungry and the poor. "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, toward men of goodwill (or those on whom His favor rests)" Luke 2:14.

Mary's response shows that she had faith in what God was doing in her life. She did not understand everything, she probably was fearing the shame of being pregnant before being married, and the risk of losing Joseph, but she answers "Behold the maidservant of the Lord! Let it be to me according to your word". Luke 1:38 Mary was not holy, or a human being with special powers. She was a teenager girl living inside a society that treated women as an inferior gender. But she was ready to be part of God's plan.

What about you? Are you a teenager? Are you overwhelmed by so many pressures from society and from your friends and family? Do you feel that there are so many different messages being told to you every day? Some say that the most important thing you can have right now is the approval of your friends, some say that it is the way you look, the boyfriend you can get, how academically advanced you are or how good at sports you can achieve. What does God has to say? "Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth, before the difficult days come, and the years draw near when you say, I have no pleasure in them" Eccl 12:1. "Flee also youthful lusts; but pursue righteousness, faith, love, peace with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart" 2 Tim 2:22.

Do you want a pure heart? First ask Jesus to change your heart, with His love, with the work of love He did at the cross for you. It does not matter what everybody else says: your friends, the cool magazines, the Hollywood stars, the boyfriend. In 100 years they will all be gone. What they think does not matter when you place things in perspective. But Jesus is telling you like the angel told Mary: "Do not be afraid.... For with God nothing will be impossible" Luke 1:30, 37. He wants to hold your hand. He wants to make your heart mature and to be like His. He wants to show you that you are not "just" a teenager, you are blessed, for "Blessed are those whose lawless deeds are forgiven, and whose sins are covered; blessed is the man (or teenager girl) to whom the Lord shall not impute sin" Rom 4:7-8.

Are you ready to say "Let it be to me according to your word"? Are you ready to let Jesus take the wheels of your life?
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Do you love me?

Friday, May 25, 2012


I love my two sons more than words can describe, and I wish everyday that they would play nicely with each other without fighting, but once in a while, I find one hurting the other and I have to intervene. It is not because I love one more than the other that I discipline the child who is hurting his brother. It is because I love them both so much that I don’t want them to hurt each other and my goal is that they learn to love each other.

When I look at the Ten Commandments given by God to His people Israel, I see them divided in two groups: the ones about loving God above all things, and the ones about loving one another. Paul says “Owe no one anything except to love one another, for he who loves one another has fulfilled the law. For the commandments, You shall not commit adultery, You shall not murder, You shall not steal, You shall not bear false witness, You shall not covet, and if there is any other commandment, are all summed up in this saying, namely, You shall love your neighbor as yourself. Love does no harm to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfillment of the law” Romans 13:8-10. Is it really that simple? All you have to do is to love your neighbor as yourself, and you will have followed half of God’s commandments?

Well, good luck trying to do that. And remember that it needs to be done out of your heart, they are not just actions. “And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing” 1 Cor 13:3.

I believe that God gave such commandments because He wanted the best for His people. Because when the Israelites followed them, they were not only pleasing God, but they were also being protected from hurting each other - from living selfish destructive lives. But as History shows, they, like us, failed in following them and even used the commandments to hurt each other.

So how in the world could someone be able to follow these commandments? How could someone be able to stop hurting other people and end the selfish destructive life? When someone asked Jesus which was the great commandment in the law, He said “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the first and great commandment, and the second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets” Mat 22:36-40. Can you see the beauty in it? Jesus is saying that unless you follow the first commandment, good luck trying to follow anything else.

You and I can try to deny ourselves. We can try to not please our own beings every day, and that is going to take a tremendously amount of work. And usually if we are not worshipping ourselves we will start worshipping something else, our career, our wealth, our family, our status, or even our religion. But they are just idols, and as bad as worshiping ourselves. But when you place God in the very center of you life, as the only One you worship, then everything else falls into place. God is the only object of worship that is worthy of our worship because He is God! He is altogether holy, He is eternal, He is all-knowing, all powerful, fair and just. He created all the Universe and every single detail in all the subjects that you and I may have struggled to learn in school: Math, Chemistry, Physics, Engineering, Biology, Languages, Art, and the list is really endless. He is above time, above mortality, above knowledge. He is worthy of our entire lives, and of all our glory and honor. And when we adore Him we are set free from adoring anything else that will eventually bring us destruction and hurt to others.

However, God also knows that in ourselves we have no power to place Him in the center of our lives, to love Him for whom He is, to adore Him. Therefore, He reached out to us first, He so loved the world, He offered what was most precious to His heart, His own Son, to free us from sin. To receive in Him the fair discipline for the hurting we have been doing. The just punishment to free us from our self-destructive sinful nature. And God`s love is so big that Paul describes “For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord” Rom 8:38.

Before Jesus left to go back to Heaven, He asked Peter. “Simon, son of Jonah, do you love Me more than these?” and again “Simon, son of Jonah, do you love Me?” and again “Do you love Me?”  Jesus wanted to make sure Peter understood that it was only if Peter loved Jesus above all things, even above his own brethren, that he could follow Jesus. That he could feed Jesus’ sheep, that he could be the amazing testimony that Peter became to crowds of people. If Jesus was not at the center at Peter’s heart, there would be no profit trying to do Jesus’ work.

Do you love me? Jesus is asking you. Do you love me above anyone and anything? Heaven is a place where the ones washed by Jesus’ blood will spend eternity adoring Him. Why would you want to go there, if you don’t care about Jesus? He asks: Do you love me? Then, follow me.

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Free Book Online: A Fight for Life - Chapter Four (Part 1)

Wednesday, May 23, 2012


First picture taken of Pedro after he arrived (notice that Lucas, on the left,
and Pedro, on the right, are only one month apart in age)


CHAPTER 4 (Part 1)

The messenger

Maria had already traveled a few times to the big city where we lived, even though her home was quite far from ours. She would travel through uncomfortable roads for two days, inside a modest bus that would jump up and down as it navigated around the holes in the asphalt. It was an extremely long and tiring trip, but she and her youngest adopted son would leave everything behind so that he could get his much needed cornea transplants. She knew that in the big city she could find free and adequate treatment for him, so that he could have his vision back and finally experience forms, colors and light in fullness.

Every time they traveled, they would stay at our home. Like many others who were also dependent of the free health care system to find a solution for their pain, sickness and limitation, Maria and her son would face the endless lines inside the public hospital to receive assistance. Waiting was not easy, because she had to carry her son on her arms, trying to calm him down, especially because being inside a dark world he could not fully comprehend what was going on.

On what was supposed to be her last visit to our city, we received the answer to our prayers. By that time her son was already running around our tiny apartment, with his eyes wide open, without crashing against the walls and furniture or falling down and hurting himself, like the other times before the transplant. The long trips back and forth, the endless hospital lines and the surgeries had all been worth. Maria was sincerely thankful to my family for opening our home and she would have given back the kindness if possible, and in a certain way she did! But she never thought that it would be as an answer to a prayer.

On that last day of her stay she was having breakfast with us at our kitchen table. A feeble ray of sun, that had unexpectedly made it through the fog outside, made her face shine when she begun to tell us a story, between sips of hot coffee and bites of toast.

“The other day, I learned from an employer at the general store that there is a boy being given away by his mother.” Then she stared the floor, as if looking for the right words deep in her thoughts. “Unfortunately, I cannot adopt any more kids, especially him! I heard he is blind, deaf, mute and paralyzed. Can you imagine that?”

My parents sent each other worried looks. She kept adding to the story: “His mother is not a respectful woman, she makes easy money, if you know what I mean.” Both of my parents nodded. “It looks like the boy is about to die if nobody steps in”, she concluded.

Trying to add something to the story, my father said: “Life is tough!” As Maria told the story, her eyes kept blinking, as if her brain was trying to find a solution: “I am hoping that someone will take this boy in, but it is not going to be easy!”, she added.

Then Maria went on to describe all the details she knew about the boy. He was four years old and until that moment had only survived because his grandmother had taken some care of him, but she died and nobody cared anymore. That was the reason his mother wanted to give him away, which was not an easy task in a country with not may options to institutionalizing children with disabilities.

I had never heard such a tragic story in my young life. My six year old eyes were trying to capture every move coming from Maria's lips as the entire story was so intriguing. She added, “To top it all, he is very sick, undernourished and living on the floor of a shack. It is heartbreaking, but the people in the area can't even afford their own kids, much less a sick one!”

My parents tried to swallow their coffee, but it felt stuck in their throats. “Did she start the adoption talk on purpose?”, they thought to themselves. “Why would she tell exactly to us about this child in need of a family?”, they kept asking inside their heads. Maria had no idea my parents were praying for a child to adopt that really needed it, but this one was off the charts!

Maria added a final question to the table, “Do you know of anyone around here that would be interested to take in this child? At least for a while, until he regains some strength so he can be transferred to an orphanage?” My parents nodded a silent no. Of course they knew of someone: themselves! However, they were too scared to compromise to such an unattractive adoption option.

“Where I live we don't have orphanages that could take him in now. The few places we have don't have the structure to take care of a child in a condition as serious as his. In fact, I think that if he went to one of those places, he would not see much improvement”, Maria remembered.

As she kept going on with the uncomfortable conversation, my parents started to avoid looking at each other. Neither of them wanted to be the first to accept that the boy was the answer to their prayers. It would be much easier to think that it was just a coincidence. Besides that, Maria lived so far away! There was probably a local child in need for adoption right in our city. Someone that really needed, but not as much as this boy!

Eventually someone who lived near that boy would show up to take care of him. Who knows, maybe a retired lady, filled with life experiences, grown up children, and willing to contribute to the common good of society. Someone that did not need to work anymore, with a good retirement pension, mortgage paid off, and a big heart. There is always someone like that in every city... But, what if this boy was the answer to our prayers?

If he was the answer to our prayers, he was way more than what we had been asking for. However, how could my parents doubt of such a clear and concise answer? What was the path to follow? Deny a gift? But could that boy be a gift? As she explained the boy's situation, Maria had no idea of the battle going on inside my parent's hearts and the petrifying reality they were facing with a thousand questions. Not even in her wildest dreams she would imagine that right there and then she was being used as a messenger to deliver the answer to somebody's prayer.

The subject that started at breakfast ended with the meal. However, it never ceased to surround my parent's thoughts, knocking, suffocating and overwhelming them. Their shaking hands, trembling lips and weak legs tried to follow their reasoning, but no words were spoken, actions taken or directions walked. They were paralyzed in the inside and trembling in the outside.

Silence became the norm of communication between my parents. They did not want to start a discussion on the subject afraid it could become the natural path to a decision. They were used to adventures, but this one was completely different. It was emotionally overwhelming.

As she departed, Maria did not have a clue about the sequence of events that were about to start. For her, the most important thing was that her youngest son had his vision back. From now on, another visit to the big city would only happen for business or vacation, no more medical excursions. She told us her goodbyes unaware of how pale my parents' faces were and how painful their hearts felt.

Not even after Maria left, my parents felt relief. The thought of that boy sick and in need kept pounding, hurting and burning their consciences. While trying to reason with their own consciences they had never imagined  such coldness of heart could exist in them. How could they have let her leave without sharing their feelings? Weren't they always championing against this kind of emotional apathy? What about their common speech against the human insensibility to another's suffering? But the truth is they were going under a huge internal suffering, filled with conflicts and fears.

There is always a way out. They knew that. The best they found was to go back to prayer. But not the same one as before, asking for a child. It would have certainly seemed like a comfortable position to pretend that nothing had happened and to keep with the old prayer. But nothing was the same now. They had heard with their own ears the answer to their prayers and from now on the question was if they would accept it or not. To make such decision, they asked for wisdom, discernment and strength. Wisdom for knowing how to act, discernment for knowing when to act and, finally, strength to act. Without looking back or forward. Just looking up, from where help would come.

At the same time, they knew the boy had not enough time to wait for them to analyze every angle of such a decision. Urgency, surely, also helped them to make the decision. Maybe if they had all the time in the world, they could have given up. But if the answer was to be yes, they had to make it quickly.

It did not take too long for help from above, or the perception of such, to cast away their fears. Without delay, they took a deep breath and said: “Yes, we accept this boy as our son. In happiness and in sadness, in rich and poor times, till death do us apart.” I was holding the ring. I also wanted to participate in such happening. Together, we threw back the bouquet hoping other families could have the same experience as ours.


Book: A fight for Life
CHAPTER 5 (Part 2) coming soon...
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