A Jon Post

Some times I catch myself thinking over a monologue I’d like to give to one of the many friends I have at the hospital who are dying. They end up looking like letters I’ve written to them, if at least in my head.

Tonight I thought I’d write one down.

Dear Manuel,

Did you know I liked you when I first saw you sitting on your bed across the room? You just sat there in silence, a look of quiet kindness on your face and your worn, brown, leather jacket slung over your shoulders as if you’ve known that jacket for years of wind, rain and sun.

The breathing port jutting out of your trachea made a soft noise as your sharp eyes studied mine. I introduced myself and you put a finger over the port so your voice would carry out of your mouth and I heard your raspy name, “Manuel”. Your smile and firm handshake cemented my respect and admiration for you.

We’ve talked off and on over the last 4 months I’ve known you. You seem more comfortable listening than speaking. I know that speaking brings pain now since that hard metal port has been surgically placed in your throat, but have you always seemed like that? Before you came here and had your voice so irrevocably changed, did you listen so much? Did you laugh so softly?

I can tell that, though you haven’t worked it for the many months you’ve been sick, your farm still brings you much pride. It was my great joy to listen to you speak to my older brother about it when he sat with you one day. Even though it caused tremendous pain to speak for so long, you laughed and spoke in depth about the rice, corn, tomatoes and more that you plant there each year. When you asked for a picture standing by his side, just the two of you, my heart leapt with pride and joy that you two, in 3 short days, had grown to know and respect each other so well.

Now you lie in your bed dying, waiting for another surgery on your wounded trachea. What specifically have the doctors told you? Have they told you your prognosis? Do you still dream of being healthy?

I brought you that picture taken standing next to my brother today. You asked for it earnestly last time. What place does his visit take in your memories of your life?

I’m not sure how to close this letter to you. Hope? Truth? Promises? Just lovingly?

Hope? We’ve spoken of it before. We’ve spoken of the faith you and I share that gives assurance to the hope in Christ and His salvation. There is hope there. There is still hope.

Truth? You are dying. It will probably not take long. I am sorry I don’t know how to say that in person. I’m sorry I don’t yet understand you well enough to speak the words of that truth while speaking of comfort and love.

Promises? I promise that I will pray for you until the truth of this sickness is played out. I promise to visit you and stand with you and bring you cans of Fanta and snap shots of my family until then. I do not promise a miracle, or a healing, but I’ll ask the God who can give them that He does.

Love? There is Christ. There is Christ. There is Christ.

And instead of filing this one away into the rest of my unsaid, unspoken, unwritten letters, I’ve written this one out and I’ll share it with the internet. Will I share it with you? Do I have that courage?

I hope so. Maybe not word for word, but I’ll do my best to bring these words to you my friend.

And that’s what you are.

My friend.

Yours,

Jonathan

A Jon Post

I wrote this in memory of a 17-year-old boy named Samuel who died last week on Monday. Layne, Alice our partner, and I had been asked by his doctor to sit by his bedside to care for him (cleaning, feeding, etc) as he was given too much pain medication to maintain consciousnesses and had no one else to care for him in his last days. We knew and loved him well. This song has been on my heart since and I’m glad I was able to write it and share it here.

We met when you were young
     Not yet 17
          Your eyes were holding a pain I’d never known
We spoke softly I learned your name
     You told me of your home
          Alone and sick your smile betrayed your fear

So you wait in this bed staring death in the face
And oh, there’s more to you than this
I believe together we can find out what it is

So I will visit you
     Though I barely know your name
I’ll laugh and joke and hope to know you well
     Yes I will visit you

I learned that you’d been hurt
     You trusted me with your pain
          We cried and hugged I’d no words to heal the scar
But I told you there was One
     Who does more than simply heal
          He completes our pain in the wordless beauty of His

So you sit in this bed staring life in the face
And oh, there’s more to trust than this
With Him together you can find out what it is

So I will pray with you
     To the One who knows your name
Though you’ve just met He already knows you well
     Yes I will pray with you

The months passed you grew, I watched
     You seemed to grow so strong
          We hoped you’d win this war with your disease
So soccer games and smiles
     Mark these memories I hold
          Chasing balls on broken pavement with a grin

You seem free of your fear of the sting of your death
And oh, there’s more to find in Him
I believe together we can search out what it is

So I will play with you
     And I’ll laugh and shout your name
We’ll chase the sun we’ll hold these memories well
     Yes I will play with you

Then slowly it returned
     The pain you knew so well
          Our feeble hands failed to stop dark tides of this disease
And lying on your bed
     Poison dripping in your veins
          You held tight to the One who gives joy who gives peace… in anguish

So you lie in your bed waiting for death and his touch
But oh, there’s more to tears than this
Crying together we can seek out what it is

So I will sit with you
     And I’ll whisper your name
I’ll plead the blood of Christ will cover you
     Yes I will sit with you

Hours silent by your side
     Slowly pass us by
          Others come and go, I wonder if you still hear me
But your body lost its fight
     Your heart was just to tired
          And the gap between you and Christ came to a close

So you died in this bed with peace on your face
And oh, there’s more to death than this
Some day together you can show me what it is

So I will cry for you
     And I’ll softly speak your name
I’m so glad you let me get to know you well
     Yes I will cry for you

Now you stand
     On legs strong and whole and clean
Now you stand
     In the presence of the One who redeemed your pain

And one day I will stand with you
     Singing glory to His name
Yes I will stand with you
     Singing glory to His name
We’ve eternity to get to know Him well
     Yes I will stand with you

Oh I will stand with you