The Mercy of God —Part 1

I flipped over the church bulletin several times and reread the announcement about an outreach trip to the AIDS hospice.

A recent addition to the Asia-Pacific International University faculty in Thailand, I wanted to join some missionary activity. The invitation appealed, but one serious consideration stood in the way. Since childhood, I had an abnormal fear of anything related to death: coffins, the dead or dying, morgues, the sick, and even pictures of anything morbid. One look would plant the images vividly in my mind and could haunt me for years.

Not wanting to turn down requests to sing at funerals, I reduced the fear by walking to the front with eyes glued to the floor.

I held on to the arm of another singer to lead me to where we should stand; I raised the songbook close to my face to block the view.

The fear was ridiculous, torturous, and real —persisting despite my parents’ and friends’ words of reproof and counsel.

The dilemma notwithstanding, the desire to do something worthwhile —visiting the AIDS hospice— prevailed, and I showed up at the designated time and place. I worried about my fear. Suppose I fainted in front of the sick? How would I sleep through the nights? Would my attitude hurt the patients I was supposed to cheer? All too soon, the van parked near the building. I walked alongside the dozen students and teachers to the entrance. The pungent smell of disinfectant hit hard, but I could not turn back now. We donned masks and gloves. Surprisingly, I felt no dread as we entered and started giving massages, changing diapers, and feeding patients.

On the ride home, I felt strangely happy as I pondered the transformation in me. Not long after, on one of the subsequent bimonthly visits, a man died in the third-floor ward where we were massaging patients.

That I could watch an attendant prepare the corpse for cremation was beyond me. I would have fled down the stairs in terror if this had happened before the hospice trips. That night, I slept untroubled by the scene, a confirmation that God had cured me of the phobia that had plagued me in the past.

Bienvisa Ladion Nebres