Children

“And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward.” Matthew 10:42

When I was a child, I enjoyed games and crafts and simple friendships. Babysitting wasn’t a chore because I could play with younger kids. Even in my teenage years and through college, I vowed with my friends to keep our childlike joy and “never grow up.” Somewhere along the way, was it ten years ago? Was it in medical school or residency? The world started weighing heavier on my shoulders, there was less time for games and imagination. I even stopped enjoying board games (was it because I couldn’t enjoy it if I wasn’t winning?). I still had fun with my good friends, but was our joy childlike? Weren’t we now traveling through life with responsibilities and practical considerations? Maybe I was concerned that spending too much time with children and make-believe would take me off track from my career ambitions. But recently I’ve been enjoying moments of renewed joy. Playing plastic toy animals with my nephew. Playing dolls with my nieces. Tea parties and making things out of clay with our neighbors children. It’s not as natural for me as it used to be. This mind, so fixed on medicine and public health and productivity takes some warming up before I’m ready for play. It is easier for Greg and I to speak to hundreds, even thousands of adults than to present some stories before a few dozen kids in children’s church. It’s not natural anymore. But as Christ-followers we can’t get too far from childhood. Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Is it because of their innocence? Their imagination? Their easily learnable hearts? Probably all these things are why we as adults need children around us to remind us how to approach God. Well, now Greg and I have a stack of 40 construction paper cards. They’re written by Pasadena Nazarene kids for their brothers and sisters in Nguangwa. We get to be the curriers, the agents of communication across cultures. Maybe we’ll grow and learn to be more Christlike in the process.

Pain, Stress, and Whole-Person Healing: Greg and Christina Miller’s Update March 11, 2019

He sat in the corner of the room, his body filling the small chair. A self-described single father with two infants, he was having trouble keeping up at home and at work. He suffered from back pain for 3 months, but more concerning, he hadn’t improved with months of medications and therapy visits. He invested in a nerve stimulation unit, an expensive mattress, and an intense weight-loss diet, but experienced no relief. He was losing sleep and losing hope. I was tasked with getting him back to his job and minimizing disability. But the intensity of pain he felt was much greater than the physical signs found in his body. I couldn’t target muscles or bones, but I had an idea why his nerves were tormenting him. The stress on his shoulders was palpable, stress about finances, parenting, lack of sleep, trouble at work, and fear of worst-case scenarios. With that amount of stress and the ensuing inflammation, he had little chance to improve. His originally common diagnosis had led to routine medical protocols, and there hadn’t been time to address his underlying fears and conditions. Fortunately, I wasn’t too busy that day, so I was able to help him re-center and evaluate the external factors that were making his condition worse. We walked through some of the root causes of stress and inflammation in his body, and we problem-solved together how he could ask his family for help. He decided to have his mother help with the children and to see a primary care doctor help with the stress and sleep. He wasn’t a religious person, but he had a pastor friend who was always offering to pray for him. Before he didn’t feel right accepting the prayer because he wasn’t a Christian, but now he considered prayer as a potential adjunct to his treatment plan, moving him further towards whole-person healing. That one visit wasn’t going to cure his pain, but it was a turning point, a time when he was treated as an individual instead of a number, and he was able to come up with a plan to address some root causes of the pain and face some of his fears. I wouldn’t have expected that my part-time job in work-related injuries would afford opportunities like this to impact others, but it has been a blessing to move my patients towards healing even as I’m earning the funds for our living expenses here in America. I still can’t wait to get back to Malawi, to those villages, hospitals, and patients who still occupy such a large portion of my heart, but until then I’m appreciating the opportunity to minister as God has placed.

- This month, please pray that God will give us safe and productive travels as we road trip through several states beginning March 26th . Thank you for your prayers, support, and communication, - Greg and Christina

Unrelated to the update: Ishmael moving with our dogs to a new home.

Life, March 10

“Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. Two women will be grinding with a hand mill’ one will be taken and the other left.” – Matthew 24:40-41

Eight years ago, this very hour, my little brother died in a car accident. For an unknown reason, his truck swerved, toppled, and killed him instantly, but his passenger walked away. Seven and a half years ago, to the hour, I survived an accident that crushed my car between two others. Seventeen months ago marked the passing of a friend who survived an accident that claimed his fiancé, but his subsequent burns and infections left him a quadruple amputee with more skin grafts than natural skin. His birthday was today, so I remember. Three days ago my dear friends in Malawi narrowly avoided being crushed by a semi-truck that toppled right after their bus swerved into the grass to avoid it. They were returning from a training seminar I encouraged them to attend and raised funds for their transport. Last week I learned that my co-worker lost her son; childhood deaths are shockingly common in Malawi. Painfully common. In one year in Malawi two of my co-workers and my language tutor lost their brothers. How is it that an event that could break a family, or at least the family’s faith in America, happens every day with little ceremony in Malawi? How is it that my friends can talk about life and death as a natural part of life there when it is such an ultimate failure of medicine in America? We fight to prevent it, then we bury it deep, not sure that we can daily live with our wounds. Beth Moore says, “If there is an awareness at the time of death, there is pain. Simply put, death hurts.” I know that death is a sign of the brokenness in our world. I know that death isn’t forever. But I remain baffled at the confidence-shattering finality of death in this world. It makes you re-think priorities, value the present, let go of the past. I no longer dream about my brother, waking only to reconcile subconscious wishes with conscious reality. But try to remember, I try to live here and now in a way that won’t lead to regrets. And I look forward to an eternity when we can be reunited with our loved ones.