Extravagant

photo by Sarah Lance

The past two weeks have been the sort where we (attempt) to move hell.

The husband of one of the Sari Bari women was dying. They lived together on the street (for a lot of complicated reasons).  And while we attempt to draw healthy boundaries – it just isn’t ever okay to leave someone dying on the side of the street. Ever. So we made phone calls and tried to find a nursing home that would care for him. It seemed like it would work out. And then it didn’t. it seemed like it would work out again. And then it didn’t. we couldn’t find a hospital or nursing home that would admit him. And we couldn’t leave him dying on the street.

So with the help of some friends we found a room where he could live out his last few days. We found a nursing service that would care for him. And then the nursing service quit suddenly – actually leaving him alone at night. 

Over and over – one thing after another…not working. Seeming to work. Falling apart.

It was too much.

We were in over our heads.

We couldn’t do it.

(eventually we found another nursing service that was amazing)

Simultaneously, I was full of compassion and angry with my friend – because of the choices she was making, and her inability to be present to the last days of her husband.

I would waver – between knowing that what we were doing was right – and it was worth any price to ensure this man died with dignity…and feeling overwhelmed and frustrated, and feeling like it just wasn’t worth it. That we’d made a mistake by getting involved the way that we had.

Why was it, exactly, that I was bending over backwards, running around like a crazy women trying to care for a man that I hardly knew (I think I’d spoken to him once before last week).

But every time I was on the verge of believing that it wasn’t worth it – I would be drawn to the truth of extravagant love.

The value of the one.

The Lord’s deep love for Naba.

The Lord’s deep love for K.

The way the Lord pursues him

And her.

And me.

The God who leaves the 99 in search of the one who is lost and wandering.

His love that is constant.

Steady

Present.

When I am selfish, and confused and petulant.

The extravagance of love.

The love that will not let us go.

On Thursday morning Naba died.

Having been cared for

Honored

His humanity and value

Acknowledged (perhaps imperfectly, but the best we knew how)

The day was full of mercy.

For a thousand little reasons.

For a thousand moments and images.

We walk her to the room where her husband and died.

And she knows before we get there.

I watch as she climbs up on the bed near him.

And prays a blessing over him.

Jisu-babu

Take him close to you

In your great love

In your mercy

Give him your peace

We are together.

We sit.

We reminisce.

She recounts her history with Sari Bari.

The ups and downs, the twists and turns.

She is not alone.

Another trip to the burning ghats.

It never gets easier.

The smells

The sights

The sounds

But I watch her honor the man she loves

I watch her care for him.

She performs the rituals.

And we are with her.

We stay until it is finished.

We always stay until it is finished.

I honestly don't know what to think of so many moments in the past 2 weeks. i just keep thinking of what it means to be human. to be in relationship. to give and receive love.

love.

Extravagant

Messy

Unfinished

imperfect

love.