October 12, 2012
What
becomes of the broken hearted? …
I stand in the crowd at the doors waiting…
”Out in the corridors we pray for life a mother
for her baby, a husband for his wife, sometimes the good die young it’s sad but
true and while we pray for one more heartbeat the real comfort is in You, Home
Free eventually at the Ultimate Healing we’re gonna be Home Free, Home Free.”
The officer at the door motions to me, the
lone foreigner in the crowd. I step
through the doorway and remove my shoes thinking, “Holy Ground, you’re standing
on holy ground, for the Lord is here and where He is, is Holy.” Bare feet on cold tile, I slip into the
offered blue gown and tuck my hair even further up under the disposable hat. The waiting guard stashes my backpack in a
locker and nods me toward the Cardiac Surgical Intensive Care Unit (SCICU) eying
me inquisitively as I start that direction, looking for my little one among the
broken hearted. I hear him as I approach
cubicle 416, the mournful cry of a baby who doesn’t understand, who is scared,
one who feels lost, and alone, at the moment he has no idea, no concept that
his precious broken heart has begun the process of healing, no understanding of
the work of a skillful surgeon’s hands.
His only understanding is discomfort, the fear of alone, of strangers,
of tubes and wires, and being restrained.
As a nurse I see it every day, especially
living with the group of children that I work with, the broken hearted ones,
the blue babies, the ones who fight to breathe well, the little clubbed fingers
and toes, the ones who stop to squat when playing to catch their breath, the
special medications, the need for careful monitoring of heart rates and oxygen
saturations, the scars that run down the center of little chests. Scars that speak of repairs, of surgeries, of
pain to make it better and once again here I am in the middle of watching my
all powerful Heavenly Father mend the broken hearts of His babies.
This time, and in this place, though I have
been nurse to him for so long, I will step into the role of “momma.” I will hold and love on, comfort, and care
for- I will be the one his little arms reach for, and his cries call for. The one who aches to see his suffering, the
one who will soothe and rock to sleep, the one who will, because it is what is
best for him, hold him still while they poke, keep little hands from pulling
out lines and wires. I will be the one
who speaks to him in a tongue that he understands and kisses his little head
snuggled close to my own beating heart.
I will not let him have his way because it is not what is best for my
little broken hearted one, and I will pray.
I will pray hard that his heart will be strong, that it will respond
well to the increased flow, that it will heal, that his little heart will be
whole once again. Yes, he will need more
surgery, this process is not done yet, he will have more hurt and more
suffering ahead but right now we will focus on what is in this moment, this
breath- this heart beat. And I will remember always that my God is the one who
binds up the broken hearted. He is the
mender of souls, the one who longs to rub healing ointment on the wounds of sin
and pain, leaving scars that will remind us of His faithfulness, of His love,
and care and the provision that would take us, the Broken Hearted ones, and
love us enough to be scarred for our salvation.
So as I enter the curtained off cubicle, my
bare feet on this holy ground of healing where my God is binding up broken
hearted babies, a little boys tear filled almond eyes meet mine and the hands
reach, and I reach back slipping in as close as I can to encircle his little
body that is covered in wires and lines and tubes with hands that will hold
him, hands that will not let him go, hands that will sooth him to sleep because
right now I am once again reminded that this is what becomes of the broken
hearted…Jesus loves them so.
My cousin Molly was sharing about her little boys making "Thankfulness acorns" to put up on their tree and I had to smile as I have created my own little Thankfulness tree using the encouragement notes from my coffee supply and the wall with the "tree trunk" design already in place. I found a couple packets of instant spiced cider in my "to go" pack and enjoyed those they just made the whole room smell like Fall. And then there is the bottle of "Sweet Cinnamon Pumpkin" hand soap that Abby and Becca sent with me that really makes me feel like I am decorating for the Holidays- of course it also serves a very real need that they had no idea about...I have to provide all my own "supply" items such as soap and toilet paper etc. So a big thanks guys!
This time, and in this place, though I have
been nurse to him for so long, I will step into the role of “momma.” I will hold and love on, comfort, and care
for- I will be the one his little arms reach for, and his cries call for. The one who aches to see his suffering, the
one who will soothe and rock to sleep, the one who will, because it is what is
best for him, hold him still while they poke, keep little hands from pulling
out lines and wires. I will be the one
who speaks to him in a tongue that he understands and kisses his little head
snuggled close to my own beating heart.
I will not let him have his way because it is not what is best for my
little broken hearted one, and I will pray.
I will pray hard that his heart will be strong, that it will respond
well to the increased flow, that it will heal, that his little heart will be
whole once again. Yes, he will need more
surgery, this process is not done yet, he will have more hurt and more
suffering ahead but right now we will focus on what is in this moment, this
breath- this heart beat. And I will remember always that my God is the one who
binds up the broken hearted. He is the
mender of souls, the one who longs to rub healing ointment on the wounds of sin
and pain, leaving scars that will remind us of His faithfulness, of His love,
and care and the provision that would take us, the Broken Hearted ones, and
love us enough to be scarred for our salvation. 
