Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Black (10/15/09)
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TITLE: Helping The Shepherd find A Lost Sheep | Previous Challenge Entry
By Lisa Keck
10/21/09 -
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I’d loved it at first sight that Christmas morning of ’79. It had white flat shell-like beads with black spacer beads every few inches. Dangling in the middle was a sterling silver cross inlaid with broken bits of red and turquoise stone. The ends are curved and remind me of an anchor.
Unfortunately the strand of beads broke at winter camp. I lost most of the beads in the snow. I tried using a chain to hang the cross but after breaking three chains I just left the cross in my jewelry box. Now, here it is almost 20 years later and I hope wearing it will help.
Somewhere in that worn out lost black sheep was a brother who’d remember me. In my infectious disease control garb I didn’t feel recognizable. The shock of seeing my big brother lying helpless with all his beautiful black curls gone would have to stay beneath the surface. The nurse needed my help to get Paul to drink his nutrition drink.
He didn’t want any. He was anxiously looking at the TV. It was an airline commercial I think with big puffy clouds. I knew what he was thinking--Heaven.
“You want to see Daddy don’t you?” I asked. He nodded. Our father had died 15 years earlier and it sent Paul spiraling down the drunkard’s path to alcoholism. I reminded him that he could go to Heaven too but he had to make his peace with God.
Visiting hours ended. That night I tossed and turned as I realized that I hadn’t explained what I meant. At work the next day I found myself absentmindedly clasping my cross and hoping Paul would still be alive when I got to the hospital. He was but he’d become non-verbal.
Something in his blue-grey eyes told me he needed to be convinced that God could forgive him. I talked to him about Saul in the Bible who killed Christians but then God met him, changed his name to Paul and he began to preach the gospel. I tried to explain grace and mercy but I always get the two mixed up. I was only able to visit a half-hour that day.
Another sleepless night wondering if I had I explained it well enough. Could Paul even understand? The nurse said he was suffering from hysterical blindness. I wondered if his spirit would remain blackened by the lies of the devil?
I went back the next day and talked some more. I don’t know why but I didn’t lead him in any kind of prayer. I don’t know if I just didn’t think about it or I didn’t sense the timing was right. Maybe I was just too rung out from watching my brother die a senseless death because he chose alcohol over God.
Saturday morning and the routine is the same-almost. The nurse told me they had to put him on oxygen. I had gone to bed the night before clearly knowing God wanted me to pray with Paul. I gowned up and adjusted the cross on its simple black cord and walked in.
“Paul, are you ready to ask God’s forgiveness?” I said. I think he nodded. I held his tanned hand in my gloved one and led him in the basic sinner’s prayer. I’d say a line and then give him time but he couldn’t repeat it out loud and I barely saw his lips move.
He died two days later, Monday July 15 1997 and the months that followed had some pretty black moments for me. I know God forgives but I wasn’t sure Paul prayed. It was like being on Space Mountain. Roller coasters are scary enough but that one’s dark and you can’t see where you’re going.
I still have that cross on that same black cord. God revealed to me that a black sheep had found his way Home. But even if I didn’t know that, I’d still hold fast to my faith. That necklace is a reminder to me that God is there even on the blackest of days.
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Yes, we have to cling to that faith that says even in the very final moments, God's grace leads us home.
Seems like a couple of times past and present tense crossed over each other, but still, a very moving story, descriptive and authentic. Good job.