A Jon Post

As we’ve written before, what we do seems to have a strange and painful rhythm. We see times of joy, rest, and friends recovering from cancer. Then the waves crash back unto a shore washed clean of disease… pain returns… death finds a way.

And we write another story like this.

I didn’t know Moisés very well. I talked to him a few times after he arrived three weeks ago but didn’t have any time to sit with him personally and hear his story. He was laying in his bed when we first met, one face among three new ones. I knew his roommate well, and was surprised to see all 3 new patients there that day. I introduced myself and was pleased to meet new friends and file new names into my head and hope to remember them later.
Moisés sat, shook my hand, and smiled as I told him who I was and why I was there. We shared a few words and spoke of where we were from and  then I entered a conversation with another friend in the room.
I saw Moisés other times as I’d pass through but we never spoke privately.
Until last monday.
I had actually been planning on spending time with a roommate of Moisés who was receiving chemotherapy that day. When I entered, there lay Rui on chemo and there sat Moisés coughing blood. The weight of the two men’s suffering bore down hard on me as I passed the threshold into that room.
Rui could barely talk and lay on his bed with a pounding headache. Moisés looked at me and started talking about his pain. Because he was coughing so much it grew hard to understand him. As he spoke and I strained to hear, I heard the end of a sentence… “I’ll do this until I pass.”
He kept coughing.
I prayed desperate prayers, pleaded for mercy from a merciful God, and tried to keep my voice steady.
A peace swept the room. My words slowed and trust fell on us all soft enough to not make any noise but hard enough to drive our fears out of our hearts. Moisés breathed deeply, Rui gripped my hand tightly, and I breathed an amen. Christ’s hand rested on us and we sat together wordlessly.
I stood up, encouraged both men to rest, and left.
Later that night Moisés sat in a chair next to his bed, put his arms on his bed, put his head down and stopped breathing.

So we write these stories and we wonder whose we will write next.

For now, we pray to the God who holds life and death in His hands, and we trust those hands.

Please pray with us. Pray that lives are not lost, that hope is not forgotten, that Christ is known and that hearts find strength.

Please pray that we hold fast.