Missionaries Evan and Charity Graff talk about how fragile life truly is.
The man’s breathing is shallow, his skin burning with fever. Tears fall down his cheeks but he doesn’t have the strength to wipe them away. “Don’t let me go, ma’am. Please help me,” he says. I hold his hand and pray again.
I turn my head to hide my own tears. My own lungs are burning as I watch him struggle for each breath. Oh God, I pray. If ever I have called on you for healing, it is now.
Three days ago, I received a call about this man. As we have been working in Malabon, I have been going from house to house praying for the sick and giving medicine when I can. When they called to say he couldn’t breathe and he was asking for us, somehow I felt we had to go.
We carried him out of his little house on a chair, through the ankle-deep muck and garbage, with a crowd of children and adults following. We put him in the van and I shut the door, the sounds of his wife sobbing echoing in my ears.
What could I possibly do for this man? What help could I give? What comfort? He was dying. Without a miracle, it would only be a short time. Just 44 years old, with four children, ages seven months to 10 years old.
Lord, each day is in your hands. Father, somehow can you please wrap your arms around this soul, this child of yours. Life seems so fragile.
Evan and Charity Graff
Gentle Hands
Project Number 0650225
© 2009 Church of God World Missions