Behind these Walls

Abandoned house on Manitoulin Island

   When I first saw this house a few years ago, it was inhabited and well cared for. A little red car was parked in the driveway and I admired the friendly porch and cute balcony outside the gabled upper room. I would wave to the people working in the garden as I walked along the road.

   It is a sad, abandoned house now. A bird feeder swings empty beside a window. There are a few discarded pieces of furniture on the porch and inside the living room. The owner of the camp where we stayed said the problem with the property was that it had no water. I don't know if there were water lines to the lake which have deteriorated and are too costly to repair, or if there is no potential for a working well on the property. Nature is relentless in reclaiming human structures in this area. Winter freezing and thawing as well as ice buildup on the shores of the lake are particularly damaging. 

   The house reminded me of people whose acceptable outward appearance hides their inward brokenness and dysfunction. When the outer facade breaks down, everyone can see the brokenness, and the person can hide, or accept the grace and caring of others.

J. S. Park is a hospital chaplain who wrote a book recently called The Voices we Carry: Finding your one true voice in a world of clamour and noise. He writes,

Occasionally a patient is so unsettled by their own condition they don’t want any visitors at all. They’re scared of how they look to everyone. 

If you’ve ever been a hospital patient, you know what I mean. You’re dishevelled, you start to stink a bit, and your orifices are singing off key. I’d want privacy too. I don’t want anybody to see that stuff"...

"Grace moves in to say, “You are no stranger to me.” 

I’ve seen that sort of love, through gowns and gloves and masks and needles and diagnoses day after day. I’ve seen love sleeping on vinyl recliners and pacing outside of the OR and in the NICU holding their premature newborn’s hand through a plastic box. 

I’ve seen spouses at the bedside cleaning their wife’s colostomy bags or hand-feeding their husband who doesn’t remember them anymore. 

(the picture on the left is from J. S. Park's Instagram page- a highly recommended follow)

   This week, a tornado ripped through the neighbourhood where my brother, sister-in-law, niece and nephew live, damaging many homes. Three houses across the road from them were destroyed, the roofs and outer walls gone, their personal things exposed for all to see. In this time of loss, my nephew wrote,

"If there is one thing I can say about this whole experience is that it has been amazing to see just how much people have come together to help each other. 

By 11 o'clock last night, the shelter at the nearby high school had a literal mountain of water bottles, hot meals, clothes, medicine, and more donated from people all across Barrie. 

People I've never talked to before have come over and we've all offered what we can to each other, from food to water, to shelter, to even just a smile and a laugh."

   We can hide pridefully behind a facade of normalcy when we are struggling, or we can accept the love and grace of God, and of people who are there to help us. 

   We can avoid or ridicule those who are broken, or we can extend to them the kind of acceptance and understanding that we will undoubtedly need ourselves someday.  

   I would love to rescue the house on the island and provide it with running water and the necessities to make it a home again, but it may be too late for anyone to salvage it. It is never too late to live my life honestly and without hypocrisy, and to extend kindness and love to those in need.