Incomplete Church

My friend Keith showed me how to put pictures on my blog and now my life will never be the same. Thanks Keith.

I believe the Lord has blessed me with the gift of prophecy. I'm serious, though I made the language of that sentence intentionally kooky. I think we all actually have the gift of prophecy but often shackle that gift and keep it in its cage. Each time you or I see an injustice, Christ calls us to speak against it and act accordingly. I realize this may not be the Reformed Churche's definition of prophecy, but I see it in the scriptures and believe that the prophets were a voice that refused to tolerate injustice. They also cooked their food over animal poopy in some instances, but I don't think you have to do that to be a prophet.

Tonight I saw injustice and spoke out against it and it made me feel good but it also cost me. I think that our gifts are often the bane of our existance. My grandmother went to the hospital in Grand Rapids today for a routine thing. She is large and weak and needs a lot of help. Two men tried to help her onto a table but in the process, she broke her femur. (is that how you spell femur?) She is 82 and lives in an assited living facility. She is Dutch and doesn't want to be a burden to anyone. She would much rather suffer greatly than inconvenience anyone else. This may have added to the incident at the hospital. Maybe she didn't say, "Hey! You're about to break my leg!", or something like that. But now she is in a situation in which she has dreaded her whole life. She will have to go to a nursing home and will probably spend the rest of her days there.

Here is the injustice (other than how the orderlies fucked up the transfer from the table to her wheelchair). I arrived after she had been sitting in the ER for 6 hours while waiting for a room. As they wheeled her up, we talked about what will happen next and she said it was a "freek accident" and how she is feeling in general. Once we got to her room, we waited a few minutes for some other staff to help transfer her to the new bed. Remember the last time she got transfered and how that worked out. They asked a fourth staff- a nurse- to help with the move. The nurse was very put out as she was very busy and said, "I can help as long as it's quick". It's hard for me to communicate the tone. It wasn't awful, but it was cold and rude and in front of my grandmother who already doesn't want to be a burden. The anger welled up in me and I said, "Well, I hope it's not too fast because the last time she was moved they broke her leg. Remember she is in pain and should be handled gently". I wans't mean, but I was assertive and I thyink I got my point accross because we were asked to leave while they were transferring her. Later the nurse came and apologized, but it was too late.

My grandmother has never put her needs before others. Ever! Well, maybe not very often. I wanted to tell this nurse about my memories with my grandmother and the care she gave me as a child. How she helped me to form a view about God and marriage that I would never learn in a college or from the Bible. She is a hero and should be treated like one. I want to put a sign up that reminds busy nurses of who they are nursing. It bugs the hell out of me when my grandma talka about being ready to die, but she's right. She is ready to die. Soon she will. Sonner than I'd like. Because of carelessness, my grandmother may die in the hospital rather than in an independant apartment where she could govern much of her own affairs. They owe my grandmother and can't repay her what they took. I hope they can offer her respectful care for a hero while they have her.

I'm going to write another blog now about the broken church.