chiclayo, children, childrens missions, hunger, kids, lima, Llama, ministry, missions, peru, pucallpa, south america, stephanie mclaughlin, The Angel House, The Angel House Peru, Trinitys Angels
A couple of nights ago I went to visit Flor. At 75 years of age, more or less, she is suffering. Pain is her constant companion. She has cancer. Advanced cancer. Her children have not told her that is what she is suffering from. Honestly, I am not sure what she thinks is wrong with her. Or maybe she knows.
When I first arrived she was in good spirits. We laughed and joked about dancing in the streets when I return from Pucallpa. Ok for me it was not a joke but more like something for her to “hold onto” during the times of pain. Once before when she was in a really bad state we made the same promise and it did happen. She did get better….for a few weeks….and we did dance.
This night I witnessed something that words cannot express. The care and love of 2 women at her side. Tending to her. One was a life long friend that Flor told me she considered more like a sister than a friend. Flor’s eyes were lit up with deep love and affection for this woman. The kind you just have to experience to know its depth. A bond shared only between the two of them.
I hate to say it but I don’t even know this woman’s name. And really are there names for angels in human form that help you, encourage you, love you, cry with you and walk alongside in the good and not so good times of life?
This woman rubbed Flor’s cold, bone thin and aching legs and feet with intensity as though she was pushing the pain right put of her body. It was as if this woman was on a mission to rid her of the poison that had overtaken her best friend. Flor would point to another part of her aching body and this woman was right there rubbing with strong, sun browned, wrinkled hands. Several times I caught this woman’s gaze. Her round precious, deeply wrinkled face spoke of sadness for her friend. No tears could I see in her eyes. Yet I know they were there.
A short while later the other woman helped Flor sit up and rubbed her head and back with alcohol. She combed and braided Flor’s long, thin black and gray straight hair into a tightly woven braid. In that moment Flor looked both peaceful and beautiful. Short lived as the intense pain racked her tiny body and her muscles seized up and she shook uncontrollably. With tears filling her black, tired, sunken eyes, she cried out over and over , “Oh Señor, God help me.” I did all I could to fight back my own tears.
It was a sad and yet precious time if that sounds right. One I wish I could have captured with film. Not in a sick way. It was just extremely selfless on the part of these 2 women. But not the appropriate time for pictures. Just not. And again I found myself looking in on a life event just as I had several weeks ago. Read about it … A Private Moment.
Life is one moment, and sometimes one private moment, strung together. Priceless.
Experiencing private moments within His Mighty Grip,