The tombstone home

Silvean It didn’t take long for you to become my best friend. The highlight of my days are going to your cemetery to talk to you. At 81 years old you sleep on top of your mother’s grave. In Haiti some tombstones are more like little rooms, about 7ftx7ft. So thankfully you have a roof over your head, but that doesn’t do justice. As I sit there and talk to you, you always tell me you can’t see me. You tell me this 10 times during our conversation because cataracts had stolen your sight. I met you as you were starving to death. You knew it too. I could wrap one hand around your legs. It is skin and bones. No fat, no muscle. Every day I watch as your eyes swell up with water as you say to me “I’m going to die like this. No one can live like this.” You tell me about the rain and how you get so wet. You tell me about the wind and how during this season in Haiti it is really chilly at night. And then you tell me you can’t see me, but you can hear me. I tell you about Jesus and you tell me to pray for you, but I wonder if I came too late. Your mind wonders and forgets and can’t seem to make it through a full conversation. I hate watching you cry. Wondering why no one cares, why no one comes to visit. I know a little about your past. Why some people say you got what you deserve. But when you tell me “please don’t forget about me” I tell you I won’t. I serve a God of mercy and grace and nothing of your past makes you unworthy of His love. My mind wonders to this quote: “We have given people just enough Jesus to be bored but not enough to feel the surge of holy adrenaline that courses through your veins when you decide to follow Him no matter what, no matter where, no matter when.”-Mark Batterson. I think about this quote and all of the reasons people won’t come help him. It’s too expensive, I might get parasites, I’m too busy. And I say ok and I fully understand but my mind drifts to Silvean. This is someone’s grandfather. Someone’s father, who also is blind physically and can’t help him either. And I think about his conditions, and if only people knew, if only people saw him as a best friend like I do then maybe, just maybe, they would come help. Reality is, he is going to die soon. One day I am going to show up to the grave yard and yell his name several times like I always do because he is hard of hearing…but one day he won’t answer. Eventually I’ll have to bury him. And every day I wonder. He’s right. No man can live with the conditions he lives in. And I guess what hurts my heart the most is because of the blind. Silvean is now practically blind by fate, the Pharisees were blind by choice. They choose to live chasing after the desires of this world and forget about the words of Jesus in the gospel…yet filled the pews every Sunday and followed all the rules… How often do we get caught up in our stuff, our identity, our looks, our achievements, that we forget about Jesus? We forget that we serve a crucified savior who never said to live comfortable. So if we follow a crucified savior, we must act like it and walk like it. No more being blind by choice. Open your eyes. There is a dying world out there longing to see. Longing to see. I’ll pray for you Silvean. Thank you for letting me your granddaughter