A Brother’s Plea
by Katy Foster
 |
| Older brothers love their little sisters unconditionally photo by Juli-S via pixabay |
“Can
Chaya come, too?” I timidly asked every
year when invited to come along on the Jerusalem trip.
“I’m
afraid not,” they annually answered.
My
parents never traveled to Jerusalem for Passover. Other families invited me,
but no one invited Chaya. She was a nuisance and in the way. Consequently, I
would stay home, too. She often irritated me.
She got in the way of everything, breaking this, dropping that, leaving
a mess, and speaking up when uncalled for.
Nonetheless, my love for her always abounded, beclouding my recurring
frustration every time.
Chaya
was different enough to be rejected. She
walked differently, thought differently, and expressed herself
differently. A cringing expression of
just her presence was a normal response from most others. She wasn’t inept, yet she was viewed as
such. I knew that she just thought
deeper, even wiser in many instances.
For many years, she didn’t even notice that she was ostracized and
devalued. Always in the way. When the
realization set in, Chaya taught herself to stay quiet and out of the way,
setting aside acceptance and love.
With
a sunken heart, I defended her until I moved on with my own life, starting my
own family. Chaya lived with our parents
until they both died. Surprisingly (I’ll admit), she married, and I personally
felt that she deserved even better in a husband. I just feared he did not
appreciate her, as most other people didn’t.
However, Chaya’s husband was a good man, God-fearing, and loving. They
had a son, and Chaya was overjoyed. I
was so proud of her. How grateful I was to God for giving her a home of
love. She doted over her son. Our families traveled together every year to
Passover, and her son adored his mother.
Although she remained quiet and out of people’s way, everything was a
blessing for Chaya. Then, her husband died.
Chayas
rolled-over shoulders humped over even more. She hung her face of pain even
lower. Few in town stopped to console
her. She was still perceived as
unimportant by most. Insignificant. In the way. Her grief and pain were avoided
and uncared for, by all but her son.
He
was a good boy, and grew into a handsome, charismatic young man with many
admirers. Along with his wit,
intelligence, and wisdom, he loved his mom. Chaya beamed in humility.
Then,
unexpectantly, this beloved son breathed no more. A relentless darkness pounded
on Chaya. A heavy despair ached in my
chest.
Dear
God, what did she ever do wrong? Why? The only thing left on earth to love her,
to see her worth as You do. . . Gone.
She’s alone. God, please, just heal her. Please. Heal my sister.
The
mourning community of admirers prepared a funeral service for him. Chaya stood motionless, trying to stay out of
everyone’s way.
“It
hurts,” she managed.
“Chaya,
. . .” I had no idea how to comfort her. I held her by the arm as we followed
the cot carrying her son.
She
began to weep loudly. “God, You’re all I have!
I love You, but I miss my son!” she wept out her prayer. It became
difficult to move her along. She was so broken.
A
group of men stopped as we passed the gate. Then, I felt a lightness, as if a
hand reached out to catch Chaya’s falling hope. The man standing there was
Jesus. We were blocking His path, and He stopped, staring at Chaya.
“I’m
in the way,” I heard Chaya whisper.
In
a shared despair, Jesus told her, “Please don’t cry.” I don’t know how to
explain it, but I saw Chaya breathe in hope. Her lips began to stagger out
incoherently, gasping.
She
finally tried to shout, yet a whisper stretched to Him, “You’re all that I
need!” He turned His head toward her
dead son, and stepped toward him, holding out His hand, and touching the
cot. As I gazed upon His face, I could
see something in His eyes, and I knew that He felt her pain, and I knew that
His love for her son was greater than even Chayas.
“Young
man, I say to you, arise.” My nephew sat up.
A
miracle!
“Thank
You, God! Jesus! . . . I think. . . my
mother. . .” my nephew said.
“You
mean the lady over there,” Jesus said and smiled at Chaya, “the one that got in My way?”
He
is forever our way, our truth, our life, all because Chaya kept getting in the
way. I’m so grateful she’s in the way.
based on Luke 7:11-17