I have been avoiding Kevin.
I met him a week ago today.
Clearly, he is adorable.
Kevin made it to Hope of Life last Saturday while I was in Guatemala. We had heard of his health condition and knew he needed whatever help that could be offered.
That plump face only masks the war raging in his body, cancer trying to steal his sweet life, his cry desperate to hold on.
We brought him to Operation Baby Rescue‘s center, hoping and praying that we’d reached him in time and that his 2-year-old body would have a chance at fighting his severe bladder cancer.
There’s a reason I’ve been avoiding telling you about Kevin this week.
I knew he wasn’t going to make it. And I had no idea what to do with that.
And now that he’s gone, I still don’t.
Once again, enter ache… breath comes hard.
How do you deal with loss like this? When your livelihood is wrapped up in the destinies of these children? When what you do each day has an impact on whether or not they’re able to get the help they need, in time?
Kevin is hard for me. I ache for his life, the one cut too short, that knew too much pain. It immediately draws me back to the book I’m reading, and the story she tells of her brother-in-law who lost two baby boys within 18 months of each other..
“If it were up to me, I would write the story differently.”
“…the words… there they are, released and naked , raw and real, stripped of any theological cliché, my exposed serrated howl to the throne room.”
I would have written Kevin’s story differently. Because I don’t understand. And the ache doesn’t just go away, it sits… it simmers in my heart, making me ever aware of the desperation of it all.
Where’s the hope here?
Honestly, it is difficult to find. But slowly, it reveals itself…
- Hundreds of other babies have been rescued, and thrive now.
- While most of his two years were spent in pain, Kevin passed peacefully, with little pain and with his family around him, so clearly loving him.
- This isn’t the end. Rescue’s will continue. Lives will be saved. God will be glorified.
- God is still gracious.
“I wonder… if the rent in the canvas of our life backdrop, the losses that puncture our world, our own emptiness, might actually become places to see.”
“To see through to God.”