Cyril

Cyril. Let me describe this guy for you. Each morning you will find him sitting on the bench in the corner. He asks for the same song 519, every morning. He is determined to marry Moriah and I, If we don’t marry him he will write to “his friend” President Obama to have him force us to marry him. He is a 7-year old boy in a grown man’s body. He is “studying” psychology, but claims, on different days, to be a cardiologist, a detective, a chief of a large village somewhere, or a football (soccer) player. No, reasoning reaches him or at least when it does, it seems to not be remembered. He asks pointless questions over and over and over. I’ve been told he can become violent, but I haven’t seen that yet. And he drives me absolutely crazy!

This morning I was responsible for worship. The devotion I read was about Jesus’ healing and meeting the people’s needs around him. And in my prayer I asked that we would be witnesses to the patients we would come in contact with today. Little did I know, that God would truly test that and how soon he would do it. As soon as worship was over Mama Regina came in and said that Cyril was laying just outside our gates in the pouring rain, complaining of achy joints and not being able to walk. This isn’t the first time that he’s come complaining of some ailment. Normally there is nothing wrong aside from him, maybe, being schizophrenic. My first thought was, “Not again, please go away!” and after a bit I was fuming. Why here was here? Why couldn’t he just listen to our advice, take the anti-psychotic drugs and be somewhat reasonable? Why did he not cooperate and let me get his vitals instead of insisting on laying down? Why was I the nurse on duty when he had to come in with some issue? Then I heard the words I had prayed earlier, “Let us be witnesses to the patients that we come in contact with today” It was like I had receive a slap in the face. I was getting exactly what I had asked for. God had brought me one of the few patients that I was not willing to fully accept. The one who drove me absolutely crazy. I was given him today to put my thinking in check. It humbled me quite a bit, because I knew that I wasn’t at all the missionary I was wanting to be. Here was someone who needed my love, patients, kindness, and all I wanted to do was to send him back out; someplace that I didn’t need to take care of him.

I can’t say that I found great love for him after that. In fact, I had to do a whole lot of praying to keep from getting extremely frustrated with him. But it gave me a picture of just how patient and loving God is with me. When have I gone right on ahead with my own plans? Imagined myself as some great missionary, a perfect sister, an extremely kind person? How many times have I not cooperated or not taken my ‘Daily Dose’ of time with God? Or asked questions and never waited for answers? So, I suppose I would say that I’m not all that ‘normal’ or perfect either. I’ve still got plenty of learning and growing to do and will probably have some till the day I die. Each day will be a growing experience I just hope that I will stay open to all the growing and change! So, keep me in your prayers! J