where else?

She is petite and frail.  She is taking her medicine and enduring her treatments.  Anything for a little more time.  Anything to get feeling better.  And then she falls, walking to the bathroom. Breaks her hip and wrist.  She loses all the ground she  has gained.  Time is running out.


89 years old.  She looks up at me from her bed.  Big, brown eyes.  "I keep praying and praying.  For good things.  To get better.  To hang in til my son can come back.  To not have to take so much medicine.  Why isn't God answering any of my prayers?"


She just looks at me. My inner theologian wants to discuss our misunderstandings of prayer.  The teacher in me is jumping to reframe her questions  As a pastor, I want to recall all the Bible stories where God came through in dark times.  But first the chaplain has to hear the pain of those words.  The loneliness. The helplessness.   "It really hurts to not feel heard by the God you love, doesn't it?  To not understand where God is in this.  I am so sorry."  I hold her hand tightly and our eyes well up.


Later, at the end of the visit, I ask if there is anything I can do for her. "Pray for me before you go?" she asks.


I think about the story of the disciples in John 6.   
⁶⁶ At this point many of his followers turned away and deserted him. ⁶⁷ Then Jesus turned to the Twelve and asked, “Are you also going to leave?”
 ⁶⁸ Simon Peter replied, “Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words that give eternal life.”

Sometimes that's all faith is.  A little kicking.  A lot of doubt.  Some unanswered questions.  And then a surrender again to the only Hope we have.  

Where else are we going to go?