Please enjoy today’s blog post by guest writer Nadia Jimenez.
Every spring my parents anxiously wait for May 15th; the day you can begin planting in Chicago. They’ve always been known for having a small farm in the city filled with vegetables you would never imagine growing alongside glorious flowers. If you’ve been to their house in the summer I’m certain you haven’t left without bags full of goodies. However, this always came with challenges: a war against clay that would choke out the dirt and rot every root. But without a doubt, each year their yard grew more than the last. It continues to blow me away, witnessing the seed begin to sprout in such a treacherous land.
These last few months have been difficult. They have felt heavy, like the weight of clay on the single seed. My days have been filled – as many other healthcare providers – with never-ending patients, exhaustion, and dying. Ultimately, fighting an unknown, as each day felt more and more like Groundhog Day. Life was stuck on repeat. I was grateful to be working alongside such amazing teams but there was this deep feeling of isolation even though I was surrounded by so many people. If you know me, you know I’m not one to wear my emotions; a joke to laugh off pain has always been my best medicine. But, what if there has been nothing to laugh about?
Every day, I made my way from my office across the bridge to the hospital. It was my path of preparation, I walked with a prayer in my mind, and a hope in my heart that that day would be better than the day before. Each time as I entered the halls of the hospital I inevitably heard the welcoming sound of a friend calling out “Good morning Nadia!” which would accompany a witty comment of “Here we go again,” or the question of “where off to first?”. I would start my initial rounds of the hospital to prepare for the day to come and find a place to settle in to participate in our Hospital Incident Command System daily calls with leadership which started with a message from the same welcoming voice that had just greeted me in the hallway: “Good morning everyone.” This time the welcoming message was complemented with a word of strength, a verse of guidance, a prayer for the weary. I became dependent on those messages and the simple greetings that came each day and I found myself missing them if there wasn’t a call or if I was working on her day off.
Every day I dragged myself back to my office. Somedays, feeling heavier than others. Somedays, praying I didn’t have to return to those halls tomorrow and everyday praying for the colleagues, friends, and patients I left behind to keep fighting. As I made my way to the bridge, once again I would hear that welcoming friend: “How are you holding up Nadia?”; “How was today”. The conversation was simple; sometimes filled with silence because there were no more words that could be said, and sometimes filled with tears because the silence was too much. But in a time filled with so much hardship and isolation from my own family, Melanie’s voice became my reminder of God’s presence in all of this.
“A friend loves at all times, and a brother/sister is born for a time of adversity” – Proverbs 17:17
God does not call us to do life alone. I am grateful for the reminders of this truth that Melanie gave me each day; she represented my church family and each of your prayers. She reminded me that family does not only lay on the surface, like blood in our veins, but is found deep within the challenges of life, and in our hearts.
In this time of separation, may we be reminded to continue to build our friendships through the eyes of God. Friendship and brotherly/sisterly love should not be based on cultural expectations but on Jesus’ example: a friend whose love was so profound that he was willing to die for us, a friend who loves us even when we’re unlovable.
May we as brothers and sisters in Christ be reminded of the presence we have in each other’s life. However far we may be from each other, may we be the sun to the struggling seed, to help each other grow.
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