Nail Polish and Prayer

There was a series of horrific bomb blasts here in Nairobi last Friday, and it occurred in one of the largest used clothing markets in the country.  Many people were killed on the spot, and scores of others were sent to various hospitals, fighting for their lives.  I decided to go to Kenyatta to see how I could help.  The first of many miracles was that I was allowed admittance into the mass casualty unit in the first place.  The ward itself was closed off by a metal gate, and guarded.  I didn't think I was going to be allowed to go in.  In fact, two people ahead of me had been rejected admittance.  However, I explained that I was a volunteer hospital chaplain and I was admitted without a problem.

At first, I was genuinely encouraged by what I saw.  Although many were in a great deal of pain, most of the victims seemed to be in pretty high spirits.  The greeted me warmly, and the ladies readily accepted their nails being painted with the nail polish I had carried with me.  The power of human touch in infallible when it comes to healing, so I always try to incorporate it into my ministry whenever I can.  As I painted their nails, I heard their stories of survival.  Most were shopping for clothing, some had business that were completely destroyed.  It touched me that folks were more concerned about how they were going to support their families than they were about their health and welfare.  

The main thing I wanted to portray to these folks is that God loves them, and He has a purpose for each and every one of their lives.  Their lives are precious, and they have meaning.  

The more I traveled from ward to ward, the more I began to realize that where I started from was the ward where folks were doing the best.  As I went to other wards, it seemed to get worse and worse.  There were folks with broken and sometimes even missing limbs.  People suffering from tremendous depression.  And then there was Lilian.

Lilian is a patient in the acute burn unit of Kenyatta.  I didn't know that any victims were sent there.  At first, I assumed she was there for the same reason most other women are there: cooking on a faulty gas stove.  She then proceeded to tell me that she had been a victim of the bombing.  Her left hip was fractured, and there were third degree burns on both of her arms.  Worst of all, Lilian had been six months pregnant with twins, a boy and a girl.  Both babies perished when Lilian received her grievous injuries.  Lilian explained her situation to me so matter-of-factly that, at first, I couldn't believe what I was hearing.  I actually had to verify her story with the nurses because I couldn't believe it could be true.  But it was.  This was a first for me.  I had never dealt with so great an amount of human suffering as I had with her.  At that moment, God spoke to me.  He said that sometimes I need to accept the fact that I an only help folks cope with their pain without being able to take it away.  No amount of nail polish, bananas, sweets or anything else was going to take Lilian's pain.  The only thing I could think to do was lean in close to her, rub her head, and tell her how sorry I was and that God loved her.  Understandably, the only thing she could do is turn her back to me and fall asleep.  I kissed her cheek and allowed her to have whatever moment's solace she could muster.

Sometimes, more than we care to admit, there will be times when God is the only one who can take a person's pain.  During these times, our role is to help the person cope with the pain until such a time that they are finally ready to leave their pain at the Cross.  This can be hard, especially when it comes to loving someone.  But it's so important to recognize those times, for you as well as for the person you're helping.  In the end, the experience of laying down your burdens yourself in immeasurable to the experience of having someone try to do it for you.  Once you do something for yourself, you gain confidence in knowing you will be able to do it time and time again.