Misericordia
May 9, 2018
Portos to Melide
It was another glorious weather day to walk along
rolling hills, small farm plots and quaint little villages. Once conquering the couple 100m climbs, the
rest was just rolling countryside. I
would have enjoyed it more if my feet weren’t in screaming pain. I have a large inflammation on the ball of my
left foot behind the toes. Added to this, I now have four blistered toes which
have joined the pain parade. Every step
is filled with ouch! ouch! ouch! The trail is covered in golf-ball sized gravel
that finds a way to be felt through the sole of my boots. This is accompanied by occasional stabbing
tendonitis in my knee. Pain is part of the sacrifice in doing pilgrimage, and
particularly the Camino. I expected it, and I accept it.
As a way of coping with each crazy painful step along
today’s 20km walk, I would pray through the pain and suffering with the word, “mercy.” The Spanish word for this is “Misericordia.”
The English translation somewhat diminishes the Spanish derivative, “mercy from
the heart.” This one word prayer I inserted in my agonizing footsteps. But, the word was to gain even greater
dimension in my day’s reflection particularly in something I witnessed and a
memory that deeply impacted my understanding of God’s mercy from His heart.
I witnessed something shocking during my lunch
break. It was a sight that epitomized
such loving mercy from the heart. A
bright-orange, three wheeled cart rolled on the Camino before me carrying a
young adult male. He was every bit of 150 pounds. It was clear that he was
paralyzed and struggling with other severe special needs. He was being pulled by one man who grasped
handles to pull from the front and two men holding handles to guide from the
rear. There were three other men
alongside and a couple women with supplies escorting this outrageous act of
love. There before me was pure “Misericordia.”
This word and its profound meaning took on a fresh
new reflection. I recalled others I have known who have survived such intense
challenge in life and were saved by our Lord’s misericordia.
Our own family can claim a miraculous experience four
years ago of God’s mercy from the heart.
Captured in an ultrasound of our second grandchild, little Clara, was a
birth defect found in only 1 in 44,000 children. It was an extra sack of
miscellaneous bone and mass that attached to her tailbone weighing a couple
pounds. She was born Caesarian
C-section. Shortly afterwards, the foreign body was surgically removed. No
trace of cancer was detected. Praise God!
Roughly 16 months later, something alarming was
discovered. Doctors examined her again
only to find scarier news. Little Clara had cancer growing aggressively from
her tailbone and in several other organs.
A course of chemotherapy was charted and this precious little babe was
on her way through misery. She lost
weight, her hair, and her strength.
Hopes were high that the treatment would reduce the size and number of
tumors to a point where they could be surgically removed.
For weeks during her treatment an all call was sent
to prayer warriors. We pleaded for healing
prayers, prayers for mercy on precious little Clara, and for her doctors. Over the course of weeks of the chemo, the
tumors did reduce in number and size.
Doctors were convinced surgery would remove the last remnants of the
cancer.
With a desperate call for prayer, little Clara’s
picture made it to hundreds of emails. Some went as far as South Africa, places
in Europe, and Australia to powerful pray ers I met on the Camino. The greatest
force was from family and friends at home. We shared the story with them, they
shared it with their churches and faith groups, and they, in fact, shared it
with their prayer networks. A battalion
of literally thousands of mighty prayer warriors were on their knees for this
sweet one.
I’ll never forget the night before the surgery.
Heaven must have rattled with prayers for these surgeons to guide their hands
in the last cancer removal. Everyone was
praying their heart out, pleading for life for this little lamb. The drama was building until late in the day
with this news. The surgeons had made their incision across Clara’s abdomen
believing they were at the precise location of the cancer cells. To their amazement and surgical examination, “there
were no active tumors.” Clara was sewn up and led to recovery.
Some might claim coincidence. Some might find fault
in the doctor’s diagnosis before the surgery. Some might even find anger that
Clara underwent an unneeded surgery.
For the battalions of pray ers on their knees
throughout her ordeal, we call this “Misericordia” It was the mercy of God from
His heart that saved Clara. The heart of
mercy is love. Strangers praying for a little girl they never knew, that’s the
heart of mercy. Strangers pleading for
prayers for someone they had no relationship or even knowledge, that’s the
heart of mercy. When we extend loving
mercy to another, that demonstrates the Our Father’s heart of mercy.
Today sweet Clara is a bright, bubbly, and adorable five
year old kindergartner. She is a living
example of the power of prayer and the mighty power of God’s mercy.
My hours of reflection on this one word led me to
see what power is in mercy. It came in this conclusion: When we look upon
others through the bifocals of Misericordia, we see the heart of God and those
in our path desperate for mercy from our heart.
Mercy is power. Let’s open our heart to share it
freely.
Mercifully, Deacon Willie
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