4 Visit the Imprisoned, Ransom the Captive

How appropriate to speak of the imprisoned during this week when many of us “shelter at home” or self-quarantine. Though enjoyable for the first few days, we may all feel a bit imprisoned before the virus is overcome.

In Jesus’ time, people could be imprisoned until they could pay their debts. I assume this required friends or family to ransom the captive.

How might we visit the imprisoned (beyond the obvious jail call) or ransom the captive?

In this time of the COVID-19 scare, people might feel isolated in their homes.

• Visit through a phone call to stay connected.
• Write letters and bring joy to mail delivery time.
• Share what is in short supply.

Regardless of COVID-19:

• Teach children about the dangers of debt.
• Encourage and support those held captive by their fears or addictions.
• Send a hand-written note to a loved one who is isolated by distance.
• Pray for those countries who still don’t know freedom.

After the virus scare calms down,

• Visit the elderly in residential care facilities. Join with others to entertain them.
• Donate your old DVDs, video tapes, or books to group homes.
• Check on and offer to run an errand for the homebound.
• Or, visit someone in the hospital who must adjust to what they see as imprisonment…

Night Shift

Miriam settled into a chair next to the bed of a 16-year-old boy. The hospital noises were subdued, for most patients were fast asleep at 2:00 a.m.

“Who’s there?” the boy asked, his voice giving away his fear.

“Hi, Matthew. My name is Miriam. I’m a volunteer, and I work the night shift.”

“Yeah, I figured it was night. The halls are quieter.” He had relaxed a little.

“You’re having trouble sleeping?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Since the accident?”

“Yeah.”

“Your uncle, Father Dave, tells me all about you. He says you’ve lost your sight. I’m very sorry. And yet you are being so brave.”

“I guess.” He turned toward her voice. “It’s confusing, not being able to see whether it’s day or night. I’m always awake. At least, it feels that way.”

Miriam laid her hand on his. “And you’re terribly bored when everyone else is asleep or busy?”

He sighed.

“Do you like dogs?” she asked.

“You mean, do I want a seeing eye dog?” His voice assured her he didn’t.

“No, I just mean dogs in general. Do you like them?”

He nodded. “I miss my dog, Midnight.”

“What kind is he?”

“Mostly Labrador, I think. Maybe something else in the mix.”

“I have a friend with a black lab mix. He’s a real character. In fact, one time,” Miriam settled back in her chair and chuckled. “Well, let me start at the beginning. As a pup, he loved to steal socks and play with them. He’d growl and shake them, probably imagining they were great enemies. Then he’d toss them up in the air and pounce on them once they’d landed. Now my friend didn’t appreciate finding her socks wadded up, soggy, and often quite holey, so she bought tennis balls for the dog and kept her socks hidden away.

“But the Lab wasn’t disappointed, for now he had a prey that could roll and bounce. All the better, I’m sure he thought. And before long the dog had concocted all sorts of games with his tennis balls. One that my friend couldn’t quite understand involved a laundry chute. You know what those are? Kind of a hole that lets you drop dirty clothes down to a laundry room below. Fascinating invention.”

The boy nodded, and smiled, just a bit.

“The Lab started dropping the tennis ball down the laundry chute, watching it land, then tearing down the stairs to retrieve it!”

“My dog loves tennis balls, too!” Now the boy was grinning.

Miriam giggled. “But once on his way back up the stairs with it, the ball slipped out of his mouth, and of course, bounced all the way down. The dog’s ears went up, and I think you could almost hear the gears in his head turning. For the rest of the day he would run up the stairs, drop the ball, nudge it if needed, and then chase it down the stairs.”

The boy chuckled.

“But wait, that’s not all!” Miriam said, laughing quietly, not wanting to wake anyone. “Yesterday I walked with my friend and her dog to the park. You aren’t going to believe this, but it’s true! When we got near the play structure, she let him off leash, and I figured she would toss him a ball, but no! As soon as the dog heard the leash unbuckle, ears flapping and tongue flopping, he sped towards the slide, ran up the steps as if he’d done this a thousand times and then hunkered down and slid down the slide!” Here she laughed so hard, still trying to be quiet, that she wrapped her arms around her sides to keep them from aching.

The boy too, couldn’t keep his laughs in, whether from her story, or the sound of her trying to control her giggles.

When they had calmed, she explained, “My friend said it only took once watching his ball roll down the slide, and he was hooked. Now he doesn’t even need the ball. He runs up the steps, glides down the slide without a moment’s hesitation, and then does it all again as fast as he can. She doesn’t dare take him off his leash if children are playing. She’s afraid he’d bowl them over!”

The boy smiled broadly now, looking up at a ceiling he couldn’t see, but clearly imagining the scene for himself. “I’ll have to try that with my dog,” he finally said.

Miriam chatted with him for another hour until he drifted off to sleep. As she left, she stopped at the nurses’ station. “Hello, Meagan,” she said to one, who didn’t look surprised since she wore a nametag.

Her eyes did widen a moment later, however, when Miriam said, “You know that little electronic music keyboard that’s in your car waiting to be donated? I bet Matthew, your patient in room 231, would love playing around with that. He could use the headphones so that he doesn’t disturb anyone. It might help him be less bored. Oh, and thank you for the work you all do here with the children!”

Miriam walked toward the elevators, leaving one big-hearted nurse still at a loss for words.

(Excerpted from my Miriam’s Joy!)

May God bless your week and keep you healthy.

3 Clothe the Naked

Welcome back! I am praying you and your loved ones avoid the corona virus. If you are self-quarantining, let me distract you…

From the Old Testament:

Is not this the fast that I choose: [   ]to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicatorshall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.

Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.

Isaiah 58:6-9 (NRSVCE)

And the New Testament:

“He who has two coats, let him share with him who has none and he who has food must do likewise. [Lk 3:11]

How might we Clothe the Naked?

• Clean out our closets and donate used clothing to Goodwill or another charity.
• Contribute diapers to shelters or safe houses.
• Buy new coats for foster children during their annual drive.
• Sew, knit, or crochet hats, gloves, or scarves for those in need.
• Keep socks in your glovebox to give to homeless who are asking for money.
• Or, in an emergency, give what you are wearing…

Night Shift

A young, frightened teen couldn’t believe it. Until tonight, she had hidden her pregnancy for almost nine months. Luckily, she wasn’t like those slim, blonde cheerleaders who would have shown within the first weeks. She had donned baggy sweats once she realized what was happening, and no one had guessed. Not many really looked at her, anyway. But then, tonight, her mother must have noticed, or maybe she finally saw how her “stepdad” ogled her. Before she knew quite what was happening, her mom had thrown her out of the house. Well good. She’d never have to avoid her mother’s boyfriend and his roving… everything… again. But where would she go right now? She had no close friends to ask for help, no teachers who made her feel seen, let alone special.

She had walked about a mile in the dark—the Portland’s spring rain feeling colder than usual—simply wandering, trying to figure out where to go. Suddenly she felt her first, but terrifyingly strong contraction, and with that, her water broke. “Oh God! Oh God! Jesus, Mary, Joseph! Help me!”

It wasn’t supposed to happen this fast. She’d read about deliveries in the school library. She figured it would take hours, but instinct told her she would give birth in a matter of minutes. Her back had been aching all day; could that have been the beginning? She scanned her surroundings, realizing that she couldn’t make it far in this condition. She wasn’t in the best part of town, the rows of apartments around her were in the same disrepair as the one her mother rented, but then she spotted shelter beneath some stairs that led up from the sidewalk to a building’s front door. It gave her enough seclusion and cover that she might remain hidden, if only she could stay quiet. If this baby came without anyone else knowing, maybe she could take it somewhere safe, leave it, and go back to her normal life. She slipped into the dark, bumping into a bicycle locked and stored there.

Another contraction nearly laid her flat. She squatted and panted like in the movies she’d seen. She gritted her teeth and allowed only a whispered, “God, help me!” to escape.

Who was she kidding? Her life would never be normal again, and she could never go back to her mother and the creep she let live with them. She felt hopeless.

Suddenly she realized she wasn’t alone under the stairs. Of course not, she thought. Houseless people know all these makeshift shelters. However, another contraction kept her from being able to move.

“Shh, don’t be afraid. You’re going to be all right,” a woman’s voice whispered. “I’ll help you.”

Who was she to argue? She’d asked God for help. Maybe this was His doing.

The woman took off her coat and motioned for the girl to remove her pants. She covered the girls’ naked legs with the coat, tenting it over her raised knees, and slid newspapers under her. From the little light that made its way to them, the woman seemed surprisingly clean, considering she probably lived under these stairs.

“Thank you, ma’am,” the teen offered between pains.

“I’m Miriam. And you?” She stroked the girl’s forehead, calming her.

“Shasta.” Dang, she shouldn’t have used her real name. This had to be done without anyone knowing who she was. But the lady radiated calm and smiled so nicely. Maybe she could be trusted. Another rising pain cut off any other thought.

“You’re doing fine, Shasta. Your little one is in quite a hurry. I see the head already. You can push with the next pain.”

As if she had any choice! Though her body was young, it knew exactly what to do, and push she did! She thought her teeth might break with the effort of clenching back the screams that seemed to rise from her deepest insides and demand release.

Another push and she felt the child slide out between her legs. Such relief she’d never known!

“A little girl, Shasta, and she’s beautiful! Just like you!”

No one had ever called her beautiful before, but she set that thought aside and reached for the now crying child. Her child. Her own.

Miriam cut the cord, then swaddled the baby in her headscarf, and handed her to Shasta. Her little daughter quieted immediately, as if she knew her mother. After she managed one more contraction and push, Miriam wrapped the placenta in something Shasta couldn’t see. Miriam cleaned her gently and lovingly, which brought tears to Shasta’s eyes. She felt completely loved by this stranger.

Giving the baby to Miriam, who wrapped her in her coat to keep her warm, Shasta pulled her pants back on. Taking her little one back, she stroked the child’s cheek and gazed into her dark eyes. The baby seemed to look back at her with complete trust. How could she leave this little one anywhere? She couldn’t even bear to have her out of her sight.

“What am I going to do?” Shasta asked.

“Your grandma has been praying for you. We could go to her.”

Shasta didn’t think to ask how Miriam would know this. Such things seemed minor on a night of miracles like tonight. She wondered aloud about it later, though, once safely welcomed into her grandmother’s home.

Her grandma simply smiled, as if she knew a secret.

(Excerpted from my Miriam’s Joy!)

Corporal Works of Mercy 1- Feed the Hungry

Welcome to (or back to) our 4 Minutes 4 Growth Lenten posts. This season we will explore the Corporal Works of Mercy and focus on one per week through an excerpt from my novel, Miriam’s Joy!, where the Virgin Mary visits Portland incognito as Miriam.Only after I had published it did a friend surprise me with the observation that the “Night Shift” portions of the story illustrate corporal and spiritual works of mercy.

Ideas to consider for our first Corporal Work of Mercy, Feed the Hungry:

• Donate to or volunteer at the Food Bank.
• Help with meals for the homeless.
• Carry a dinner across the street to a neighbor recently home from the hospital.
• Rethink the “chore” of cooking for your family as a work of mercy
• Or, provide a feast for the lonely…

Night Shift

A woman named Esther sat alone in her room, her first evening in the new “senior living home” her children had chosen for her. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted her own house, her own bed, and her own walls that contained 50 years of memories. Realizing she was courting resentment and determined to stay positive, she decided to explore some of the building’s common areas in order to distract herself.

A Catholic organization ran the home. She and all her family were Jewish. She knew they’d chosen this arrangement because it was equidistant from her children’s homes, but Catholic? How would she ever fit in?

She noticed quite a few residents were entering a little in-house theater. “What’s playing?” she asked.

“The Cardinal,” answered one lady who wore a large crucifix around her neck. “It’s old but a classic.”

And Catholic, Esther thought. Like everything else here but me.

She walked toward the sound of a lilting hum and found a woman alone, rocking in a small parlor with two or three tables and several easy chairs. She seemed young for the home, but one never knew what type of illness might require assisted living. She wore a long skirt and a modest veil around her head. It reminded Esther of the hair coverings that some of her more conservative friends wore. The woman saw her and smiled, while motioning Esther into the room.

She liked something about her smile and joined her. “I heard you humming. It sounded like a song from…” She was going to say synagogue but didn’t know if she wanted to identify herself as an outsider just yet.

The woman grinned. “Sing with me! If there are any like us, they’ll come. And if they don’t know the songs, they’ll come for the food!” She gestured toward one of the tables, and Esther couldn’t believe her eyes. Four different desserts filled the table, and not just any desserts, but pastries identical to what her mother used to make for Passover or Hanukah years ago. There were crescent-shaped rugelach, cinnamon braided babka breads, triangular hamantaschen cookies, and Esther’s favorite, sufganiyot, little strawberry-filled donuts.

“I’m Miriam,” the younger woman said. “I’m a visitor, but I think we will find there are residents who will enjoy our treats.” She began to sing then, and Esther was amazed to hear the same accent her mother never had lost, even though she had emigrated as a teenager and spent almost 70 years in America.

Esther sang along, quietly first but then, encouraged by the joy and strength of Miriam’s voice, she sang Hava Nagila with gusto. Next Miriam began Dayeinu, one of Esther’s favorite songs from Seder celebrations.

Two women peeked into the room and, after their eyes widened at the sight of the treat table, entered and joined in the song. They were quite a choir now, and someone in the theater across the hall closed the door to keep out their noise. Laughing, they kept singing as first one, then two more men shyly entered and joined their voices to the group. They sang songs of faith and family and difficult times. They connected through their sung history, their eyes saying, “You, too? I didn’t know.”

Miriam changed to a soft, reverent Shema Yisrael and her little choir responded with tears in their eyes and emotion in their voices. When the song ended, the group began to introduce themselves or tell their tales. They were still visiting when the movie across the hall finished, and they invited other friends to come enjoy some delicious treats with them.

What had been quiet, unshared backgrounds now emerged as points of pride and opened the way for telling treasured stories. The Jewish elderly became a small community, welcomed within a larger community. The residents raved about the evening so much that the chef promised to try the recipes found under each serving tray. Soon cultural singalongs and desserts became a regular event.

Esther made many new friends that night, but somehow Miriam had slipped away before she was able to thank her. No one else seemed to have noticed her or knew which resident she might have been visiting.

(Excerpt from my Miriam’s Joy!)

May God bless your week and keep you healthy!