Lay Next to the Dying

Halloween is coming soon. (Ok, so it’s only Oct 1st, but I’ll be out of the country when the 31st rolls around) I know because the candy is calling me…everywhere
I go.  Every year this time, I am reminded of my early years living in
that funeral home in Chicago…and then jump forward to 1992 when I moved back
for college.  My brother and his wife also moved there and they too lived
in a funeral home! Crazy! However, this time…it was a “back-up” to the
functioning one in the neighborhood. I loved visiting my brother on the
weekend and eating egg rolls from the Chinese restaurant across the street.
But this time it was going to be different! Halloween was approaching and I had the idea of bringing a group of friends
with me with the sole purpose of playing hide and go seek. Genius, huh?

I’ll set the stage.

It was a cold, dark, wet
Halloween night. We were a group of 10, standing in the middle of the large
funeral home huddled together. There were no rules…nothing was off limits. The “it”
person hit the lights and we all scattered. I knew where I was going to hide,
but had a few detours getting there. After bumping into chairs, lamps, and who
knows what…I found myself in the morgue. You know, where they keep the dead
people. I spotted a Connie-sized nook between the locker and the wall and made
a beeline right for it.  Afraid to look around I stood quietly, eyes
closed…trying to control my breathing. The scattering of my friends and following
their share of run-ins with furniture, it grew silent. I opened my eyes…allowing
them to adjust to my surroundings. I heard steps down the hall. I looked
straight in front of me and… I have very little memory of what happened next. I
saw something…someone….withing a couple feet of me, and I ran. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw
my sister-in-law, Julie, following me (it was her I had seen hiding directly in front of me) and above, my brother (who unbeknownst to
me, had done the shuffle and was wedged above the door) begin sliding down the
wall…headfirst. What in the world was happening! I pushed, screamed, ran and
ran…until I was outside.

….Back to my “imaginary” friend. His name was Jesus. You see…I saw him. Yup. Call
me crazy, but ask my mother. I begged for her to tell me more, and she did. I gave my life
to this REAL friend at the age of 4. He kept me company…and I talked with Him.
I walked my mother down the hall and showed her Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I’d
point and repeat myself…”He’s right here” and yet, Mom saw nothing, but the
blank wall.

It’s because of this friend, the stronger man, Jesus Christ, and His Father, my
God, and the Holy Spirit that I was not afraid.

Years have gone by, and I wish I was that fearless little girl again. Growing
up in a 3rd world country, we lived not knowing what was happening back here in
the US. We lived not knowing when we would see our family again. We lived with
code phrases…just in case one of us should “disappear”.  We lived on the edge, no contact…no
trips “home” when things were hard. We “only” had Him.

I now live in the comforts of Georgia… and I wonder “What would I do if I weren’t
afraid?”

Grab Don and I’d bungee jump.  Sell everything. Live off of nothing and….

Lay next to the dying.

How scary to think He might
want me to do this. OR it could be even scarier! What if He wants me to live in
GA the rest of my life, share my “stuff”, and work a boring 9-5 job? What if He just
wants me to trust Him?