[Today’s meditation was written by Cathy Self, Sr. V.P. of the Baptist Healing Trust.)

  This
week a small new life was born into this world, one who will be with us for
only a few hours, maybe days. Her name is Copeland and she has Trisomy-18. That
she lived to be delivered is a small miracle. How long she will be able to rest
in her parents’ arms is not known. In the midst of a bittersweet journey,
Copeland’s parents have courageously and transparently shared their journey. In
the shadow of deep joy and anticipation, these parents have also felt despair.
Copeland’s young mother describes her experience of despair with these words:…

    “How little I realized that despair is not a
concept, not even an idea, most of us can fully interpret until we’ve felt it
in our stomachs, breathed it in, and tasted it on the air. I realized the other
afternoon that it’s much like sitting on the bottom of a lake, looking up at
the waving surface: the people above can place their hands onto the water, feel
it skim their fingertips, but until they are lodged at the bottom of that lake,
it’s difficult to fully know what it looks and feels like down below. I was one
such person. And perhaps you are now. I don’t enjoy being on the bottom of the
lake.
    But I can say this: things become
remarkably clear down there. There isn’t as much distraction. And perhaps the
greatest blessing is that suddenly, you are knit together with a great portion
of the world who often feels that they, too, are stuck at the bottom of that
lake. Despair isn’t circumstantial – how pesky our circumstances seem to be! –
but rather universal. If we have not tasted it, I suspect we are not really
living. I pray something in my eyes will forever give away that I, too, have
had my share of "lower-lake-living", and that I can love people
better for it.”   
   Despair
is indeed not circumstantial, but rather universal. We are literally surrounded
by those who have lived at the bottom of the lake yet emerged to go on another
day. If we look closely we may see it in their eyes, or listening carefully
hear it in their words. Others around us may still be living in the lower lake.   
   Copeland’s
mother writes of a moment in the trilogy of movies, the “Fellowship of the Ring.”
The small band of journeying heroes suddenly faces a dark villain of great
might and power who is blocking their way to freedom. Gandalf, the leader and
wizard of this small clan, firmly fixes himself between his friends and the
towering monster, shouting like a mad man, “You shall not pass!” banging his
staff against the ground until the rocks crumble and demon falls to his death.
The Fellowship is free. Gandalf stood in the gap, casting himself between those
in despair and the one who intended to destroy.    
   Perhaps
that is our calling as caregiver, to stand in the gap for those who find
themselves in despair, to hold forth until they can find their way back to the
surface. If we, ourselves, have experienced lower-lake-living, we know and have
tasted the loneliness of that place. To look up and know that others are
standing in the gap, holding forth, making the way safe again is a gift that
comes only from Love.
   As you
journey through your day, I invite you to look through the eyes of Love, to
reach out to others not in order to rescue, but perhaps just to stand in the
gap. And when they are ready and able they will surface and find waiting for
them the embrace of Love. Despair may be universal but it is not terminal. Love
stands in the gap!   
   In what
ways are you able to stand in the gap for those you serve? How does Love find
its way through your hands and hearts to make the way safe again for those who
need us? Be courageous, fellow caregivers; bang your staffs against the ground
and shout like mad-men if need be, “Love will let you pass!”