Mary went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord,” and then reported what he had told her. (Jn 20:18). The Gospel of today, Easter Tuesday, ends with these beautiful lines.
Recently, I had the opportunity to attend a mission trip to an orphanage serving individuals with various abilities. In the time before the trip, I did not know what to expect in reality. So, I watched informative videos and read up on guides while taking in personal anecdotes from former mission participants. Before my current career in church ministry, I spent a year working in a rehabilitation center. Therefore, I had some familiarity in caring for the needs of others who could not fully support themselves otherwise. The former experience is noteworthy to my faith development but does not compare to how God embraced me with His grace on the mission trip.
Expressions of Love
Upon arrival at this hidden promised land, the first day our group was greeted with eager smiles and hugs from some of the residents. Throughout the start of the week, we opened ourselves up to the residents and observed and learned about their needs. Each group member was invited to love radically and encouraged to seek Jesus throughout the mission. The residents’ abilities varied, yet we loved each through various interactions such as talking, singing, hugging, feeding, and playing. Among these expressions of love, hugging became the most significant for me.
During the week of the mission, I encountered God’s beloved daughters and sons. Time and time again our guide said, “You will find Jesus, keep seeking Him in these beautiful residents.” I went into the week knowing that these residents had a share of Christ in them, that God was the author of their lives, and He saw the deepest and greatest value in their life regardless of their circumstance. And, I thought that was it, what the guide was speaking of or alluding to. I was naïve and prideful.
God’s Providence
God’s providence came out of nowhere and hit me midweek. I met the image of Christ in resident “S.” I had spent a couple of days with resident S. She is wheelchair bound with some mobility functions and is nonverbal beside groaning and moaning. By midweek, I realized that S would wheelchair around to everyone in the morning to say “hello” with a hug. I made a point to assist her in greeting everyone and to help keep her stable in her wheelchair. It was common for her to reach out of her wheelchair to hug me or others. Imagine a full-on forward fold of her torso. In caring for her, I did my best to hoist her up and have her body rest against the back fabric of the wheelchair.
In doing so, I came to realize that hugging was a deep longing of hers and that just being touched and embraced would be a salve and calm her groaning to silence and ease her grasping reach/forward folds. I hugged resident S for hours and would sing songs to her. Because she would sit in a wheelchair, her head rested upon my stomach and ribcage. We shared many smiles.
Finding Christ in Others
Again, I say, it hit me just how uniquely Christ was found in these residents. I cannot even identify the context of my reflection or the conversation I was in, but at once, I was drawn to the Passion of Christ, particularly the Stations of the Cross. The mission allowed our group to be imitators of the people that met Jesus in His journey of the Cross. It was revealed that resident S was Jesus, and I imagined her, just like any other person, journeying to the Cross and Victory.
In the Midst of Christ
I saw that each time resident S would extend herself out to grasp someone and forward fold over in her wheelchair, which was Jesus losing his footing and falling to the ground. I saw myself as Simon and Mary meeting Jesus in his weakness and desperation [for love of God and humanity]. When I would lift resident S upright, I imagined the cross that Simon embraced. It was no easy task to get resident S from arching over to being relaxed and resting upright.
I saw myself as Mary, Mother of Our Lord, gazing into the tender eyes of her suffering Son. And, I pondered how Jesus was so brutally tortured that he might have only connected with an intimate glance as He met Mary on The Way.
I saw myself as Veronica when I would soothe and calm resident S with a hug. Her face rested and pressed on my stomach and shirt—otherwise considered a veil. And I realized her continuous drool was the Blood of Christ that saturated the “veil” I wore. I humbled myself, forgoing my own comfort, to embrace her. All in a matter of seconds, I realized that I was Veronica, and I had the dear privilege to be in the midst of Christ and that my care for the resident was deeply tied to the Stations of the Cross. This visualization struck me deeply.
Great Dignity
The act of lifting Jesus up on the cross was done in mockery. But to consider mockery is to acknowledge that something or someone is distinguished or significant. If we consider someone to be distinguished and significant, then there is value and dignity in the matter. When Jesus was met with the Cross, it was with great dignity that He would fulfill God’s Will, but embrace the mockery brought on by humanity. He is glorified on the Cross. These residents are met by Jesus: valuable, irreplaceable, loveable, and unique individuals. And as we picked up the residents from the floor, hoisted or positioned them upright, we dignified them by our care and compassion. We cooperated in the Will of God. We (the mission group) commended ourselves to be at complete service and use to God at this little hidden promised land.
Lizzie will be taking a break from writing reflections this Summer, so this is her last reflection for a few months. Best of luck on your adventures!
