February 9, 2010

Hush Little Children

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Click here to read an introduction to memoir: Journey through Memoir: Introduction
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There were things, as believers, we weren't supposed to discuss.  Yet even I was foggy on what was allowed and what wasn't, and I'd been around over a quarter century.

John and I received a phone call sometime between 2003, after John and I had officially resigned as Household Fellowship Coordinators, and 2005.  A daughter of a Way Corps couple in the state had been severely burned and had been sent to the burn unit at Baptist Hospital in Winston-Salem, where we lived.  Since John and I knew the family from previous years of serving with them in western North Carolina, we were told about the situation, that Kiri had been severely burned, and asked if we could go visit at the hospital.  Other believers were not told any details.  I think they were only told that Kiri was in the hospital and that the believers would be rotating making meals for the family because the family would be visiting from the far end of the state.

My heart hurt.  What was so wrong about stating when someone was in such dire straights and deep pain?  Why were we as believers so hush about things like this? Like when someone is sick or has a need.  Is it supposed to be a sign of strength that we don't express deep needs? Or is it all considered simply a personal matter and not to be discussed?  Like when Doctor was sick before he died; why weren't the believers told?  Is that considered the loving thing to do?

I silently spoke in tongues as John and I drove to the hospital.  We turned by the large brick marque and column that are located on either side of Medical Center Boulevard, the road that borders one side of the hospital property.  We turned into the parking deck and parked the car.  As I closed my door I could hear the echo that parking decks carry. Car engines, doors closing, voices.  I walked into the hospital with John, still silently speaking in tongues. We found our way through the giant hospital maze and up the elevator to the floor of the burn unit.

There were Rod and Jody.  We hugged.  They began to share.

The damage to their 12-year old daughter was severe. Her lower body from her thighs down. She'd be in the hospital for months undergoing skin graphs.  Even though Rod and Jody seemed to still be in a state of shock, they were keeping it together.  God was watching over Kiri; all was going to be o.k.

As the discussion continued I asked how it happened.  They shared the details.  Kiri was at a friend's house and the parent ran out for a moment to the store.  Kiri and her friend were outside, where the grill was.  The store-run was apparently to get something for the meal that was going to be prepared on the outdoor grill.  Somehow the grill turned over. Kiri was standing beside it. Lighter fluid found her pants, then the fiery coals. Her pants ignited in flames. It was a bizarre accident.

"Drop and roll!!"  She and her friend had been trained at school by the Fire Department. Her friend had the alacrity of mine to pull off Kiri's pants.  Without that, the burns may have been worse.  Without that, Kiri may not have made it.

Rod and Jody seemed to feel some relief just to talk about what had happened.  I'm sure they had talked about it to others, at least to the leadership.

We all knew it was the Adversary and his work.

A week or so later at Fellowship, Debra asked me privately if I knew what was wrong, why was Kiri in the hospital.  Like John and I, Debra and her husband knew Rod and Jody from previously living in the same area where Rod and Jody served as Way Area Leaders, in the western part of the state.  So I told Debra; no one had told me not to.  

She was stunned,  "Why aren't we having a prayer vigil around the state for Kiri and the family? Remember when we used to have those, where the believers would pray for each other? Why don't we do that anymore?"
I didn't have an answer but thought it was a good idea.

Debra called our Branch Leaders in Winston and asked them about the believers doing a prayer vigil.

They asked her, "How do you know what happened?"

She responded, "I asked Carol and she told me."

"Oh.  Well it is really no one's business what happened to Kiri.  The Ministry doesn't do prayer vigils anymore.  It's enough that people pray for Kiri; they don't need to know any details."

Debra was not happy with their answer.

My phone rang. It was our Branch Leader's number on the caller identification. I had become hesitant to answer the phone when their name or number showed up. I would prepare myself for correction or for some volunteer duty recruiting.

I felt tense.  I told myself it was o.k. to answer the phone and to not read into the phone call.  It might be just a phone call.

I picked up the receiver, "Hello; this is Carol."

It was the wife-side of the Branch team. I was wrong to tell Debra what happened.  It was no one's business what had happened to Kiri.  Had Rod and Jody given me permission to share?  I answered that they hadn't said either way.  I figured it was o.k. to tell Debra.  It was a private conversation between Debra and I.  Debra used to be in Rod and Jody's fellowship; she was concerned.

I felt frustrated. Why do we hush stuff up?  Is it because the Ministry would look bad?  Was it because that then people would doubt and doubt leads to worry and fear, opening up doors for the Adversary to wreak more havoc? I stifled my feelings and inner questions.

During the conversation, the unspoken truth of the law of believing pervaded my logic. Some believers can't handle this type of information and their negative believing might impede Kiri's healing. To speak negatives out loud is to give place to the Adversary and glorify his evil works.  Everyone has to keep their confessions positive. And the leadership is right; people don't need to know details of a situation to pray. God knows the details.

But if people were like me, they'd be wondering what exactly we were praying for at times.

At a later appointment with my psychologist I discussed the incident.  He assured me that I had done nothing wrong.  It wasn't like Kiri was raped; he could understand the need for confidentiality in a circumstance such as that.  But she was burned. It was a horrible accident.  He had difficulty understanding the over-response of silencing from the leadership, the same leadership standards he had advised me to step away from.

In the same time frame of Kiri's incident I learned that the deceased Way Founder's wife, Mrs. Wierwille, was ill.  I read about it on GreaseSpot. I dare not mention it, for I hadn't heard it announced in Fellowship nor had I heard anyone pray for her.

Another pain and suffering to be swept under the carpet, to go unacknowledged?  Was that right?  I guess it was the loving thing to do, to not discuss these matters, to not mention any negatives;  it was not the Household's business, even though we were supposed to be a family. Even though, in previous years, followers personal lives had been scrutinized by leadership having to let our leadership know where we were going and to never take a trip of length alone, where we were staying, who we would be with, our personal financial status, to consistently report back regarding personal matters, to plan our days so as to schedule the Adversary out of our lives.

We were treated as children, and we complied.

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