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April 1 is coming, and with it is the release of Kaye Miller’s new book, Called to Love – Stories of Compassion, Faith, and God’s Amazing Grace. I was privileged to work with Kaye on it, and can tell you, it’s a must-have book. Kaye masterfully gives love a face, a Name, and a set of instruments with which to express it. You can pre-order called to love at Amazon here, or at Barnes & Noble Online here.
The following is a composite description of one of the most profound love-related experiences Kaye walked through. On some level, I think you’ll be able to relate. Enjoy! And order the book!
Most of us will not be required to love to the extent that it costs our physical lives. But we will have to love enough to be willing to give up our own desires, our time, our preferences, our schedules and much more. But that is a small price, knowing that we were loved by someone named Jesus Christ, who thought we were worth dying for.
This came home to me in a particularly poignant way in my responsibilities as an intensive care nurse. I heard God’s call loud and clear as He called me to work with the leprosy of our day. I will never forget the first time I cared for a patient with AIDS. I thought, “God, I can’t so this! I have a family – small children who need me. Please don’t ask me to do this!” I stood outside the door to the room of my first AIDS patient for what seemed like an eternity, just praying: “Lord what do I do?” Then I remembered what Jesus did, and what my father did. They willingly, lovingly, touched the lepers of their day. I could do no less.
I took a deep breath and opened the door – to see the smiling face of a two-year-old. A little boy who didn’t ask for this – who didn’t know he was an outcast with a dreaded disease. From then on, I never looked back.
This child had no parents; his mother had already died of AIDS. He was in foster care, but no one came to rock him, hold him, or spend time with him. It broke my heart each day as I cared for him. I watched when the other children around him in the hospital were being rocked and held, but no one – no one – volunteered to hold him or even touch him. I tried and tried to get those in the room to also hold and rock this baby, but no one would. So I put out a call for some ladies in our missions organization to help.
Within hours – literally hours – women were waiting to rock and hold this baby. They came in shifts. They rocked him. They sang to him. They played with him.
They were there when he died.
With humility on their faces and love pouring from a Source greater than themselves, they touched him. They connected with and blessed him. They reassured him in his fear, and cleansed his disease-racked body. As he drew his last breaths, they reassured him that he was safe and loved as they passed him from one set of loving arms to the arms of Jesus. And they did so with the steadfast hope that he is ultimately healed, and free at last.
To love is to touch and be touched. The more we go where the need is, and engage with those who have the need, the more love we give and receive. Jesus demonstrated that, then sent us forth to do the same.
They touched because they loved. But oh, how they love because they touched.
