Tuesday, September 6, 2011
"Maisy! Show Uncle Randy and Aunty Mary how you sing your ABC's!"
Ronny's face beamed as his 2-year-old proudly recited the alphabet he had spent days teaching her. I watched him grab her and smother her little face with kisses, praising her for a job well done.
"Isn't she amazing!! She's only two!"
Laughing, I agreed, "Yep! You have a smart one on your hands! Good job, Maisy!"
This is my last good memory of Ronny and I cling tightly to it. If I let go of it... all I can see is his precious body tossed in the street like so much rubbish. And it hurts. Dear God, it hurts. I sit here with tears streaming down my face at man's inhumanity to his fellow man. This is not a fancy post. I am raw with grief and am not capable of posting anything sensible right now. These are simply my thoughts...tangled and unsorted.
"Why, Lord? Why couldn't you help him? He has 2 children, a brother, sister, father...why, Lord?! Jesus, it hurts so much."
No quiet gentle voice replies. Just silence.
"I gave him to you, Lord! I placed this man in your hands and saw you cradle him. He was one of my 'special ones', one of my 'broken ones'. I trusted you. How many times do I have to watch them lose their battles?"
More silence. I have no right to ask such questions. I know this but my heart refuses to be still.
"Are people only allowed a certain number of miracles, Lord? Is that it? Cause if it is, I'm way over quota."
Yes, I'm fresh sometimes. After all the Lord has given me I still strike out. I am "broken" too, you see. Not in the same manner...but "broken", nonetheless. How dare I presume to speak so to the Lord? It's a question I often ask myself.
"But I prayed and I prayed and I prayed! I would have gladly given up a few of my "miracles" for him!"
What an ungrateful wretch I am. I do not understand the Heart of God aside from the occasional glimpses he shares with me. The Lord stepped in time and time again for Ronny. A few years ago I wrote this about Ronny here on my blog:
"Our Lord's mercy is infinite and I am always left awestruck by this mercy. There is a man who lives in our city; I don't want to give his name so I will just call him R. My husband and I both know him. He is deeply depressed, a drug addict and suicidal. He went from being addicted to prescription drugs to heroin. The Lord has called me to deep intercessory prayer for R. This type of prayer is so powerful that it leaves me in tears. I placed R. in the hands of Jesus and Jesus cradled this broken man in His arms. I cried and cried.
R. has had six suicide attempts and all have failed. He has overdosed on pills twice and lived. He held a gun to his head, pulled the trigger and the gun misfired. He sliced his wrists and lived. He hung himself and this failed too! A couple months ago he jumped off a three story building and only got a broken rib. These are serious suicide attempts and all have failed. God hears our prayers and answers them, sometimes miraculously.
R. is homeless now but he is still alive. I ask those who read this to please pray for him."
I read this now and my heart is stilled a bit. I wonder how many people hang themselves and survive? How many guns fail to fire? How many people jump from third story buildings and only get a broken rib?
Ronny never did succeed in his "quick" suicide attempts. Heroin got him instead. After he died from an accidental overdose in a drug dealer's house they simply threw his dead body in the street like a piece of rubbish. They did not understand that this was a soul cherished by God.
As I write this, a picture of Jesus comes to my mind. I see him "catching" Ronny in his arms after jumping from the building. I see a hand gently removing a bullet from the chamber of a gun.
I see Jesus on a dirty street corner picking up a broken man and cradling him once again.
Yes, God is silent. But sometimes...a picture is worth a thousand words.
Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord.