It’s more than a glob of lotion.

If I showed up at a local hospice and offered to massage dying men with lotion I’d brought with me I’m pretty sure that security would be called and I’d probably wind up chatting with local law enforcement. If I showed up with 13 of my friends and made the offer there’s a 100% chance it would make the local news.

In Haiti, at San Fil, the home for Sick and Dying Adults it’s a regular ocurance. The teams from Healing Haiti make this a scheduled stop on the missions, and there is a reason – most of these men and women have no family to come and care for them. Or to love them. They are dying of a variety of diseases including A.I.D.S. and tuberculosis. Most importantly, they are God’s children and they are lonely. Lonely for contact, lonely for care, and lonely in their hearts. They know they will soon die. And some of them are young teenagers.

The staff takes good care of them, but you must imagine a hospital in the United States prior to at least 1920 to get a feel for what the surroundings are like. The first floor is where the men are housed. There are at least two large rooms with 40-50 men in each one. I’ve been in military barracks that were less cramped. But it’s not like they have stereos, books, refrigerators, blow dryers, and luggage to store. They are here because they have nothing and usually no one. A set of scrubs is about it.

The cots are arrayed in this room with narrow aisles between them. On the day we arrived, Ash Wednesday, the families were there to visit as it was a holiday. We waited in the courtyard to begin our work, shooting the breeze with the younger kids who were there. They were very young, perhaps 13 or so. All smiles, happy to have the company we played silly games with them and made faces at each other.

After a time I was outside the tap tap just observing and I saw Jeff Gacek stop to massage a man sitting at a picnic table outside. No time like the present, I grabbed a bottle of lotion and got to work on another fellow sitting in the sun. His skin was as dark as mine was light but once we smiled at each other there was no difference – just two of God’s kids hanging out on a sunny afternoon.

I covered every inch of his upper torso and most of his legs and feet. I was especially mindful of the Biblical stories of foot washing and the special place that has in Christian heritage. I was the hands of Jesus at that moment. And I felt him working through me to bring some comfort to this young man, perhaps 25 years of age, who would not live much longer.

When I was done he gave me the most beautiful smile. I knew that I’d never again be concerned about what was or was not perceived as “gay” in my life. I loved this man and he loved me and that was the goal. That moment’s respite for his soul.

The rooms with the cots were next. Dark, no lights, only sunlight filtering in through the curtained windows it was warm but not hot. My friend and sheepdog Emmanuel became the bearer of my lotion bottle and translated for me as I went from patient to patient massaging and telling them that Jesus loved them. Emmanuel was an amazing friend throughout the journey. I always knew he had my back and my best interests at heart. He is constantly working as the hands and feet of Christ. And the instant I’d applied the last of the lotion and rubbed it in he was there with another dollop.

One man stands out in my mind more than most. His fever was so high that he was on fire. When I applied the lotion it truly melted on his skin and was so easy to rub in that it just vanished. His gentle sighs and the look of comfort on his face were priceless. I spent some extra time massaging his forehead, nose, and ears. My favorite spots to be massaged. When I finished there were no words I could say to thank him for the opportunity to serve him.

While the lotion was going on, the prayers were going up. I prayed a lot in Haiti. I will continue to pray for Haiti. I hope you pray for Haiti.

And if any of you know of a ministry in Minnesota where you can do this for the dying please contact me via the blog comments. Just remind me to keep it private if you would like. I despair that it will not be allowed in our litigious society. How terribly sad. I’m sure it pains Christ himself that we cannot share that love without a certificate from some institute of massage.

Tomorrow your hands and feet will still be at the ends of your limbs. How will you use them to emulate Jesus? Will you willingly comfort the dying? Will you make a meal for the hungry? Will you wipe away a child’s tear?

I wanted to include this picture – it’s my all star massage team as we prepare to head to Haiti.

KTIS/Healing Haiti all star massage team.

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It’s more than a glob of lotion. — 1 Comment

  1. This post reminded me of where I met you, Joe – at the nursing home where you so kindly volunteered to be our official Santa. I have to tell you how struck I was when I saw you for the first time at the end of the hallway – looking JUST like the old elf himself! Thank you for the time you so unselfishly gave to us. You even celebrated Christmas in July with us which everyone loved!

    I am reminded of the groans of pleasure and squeaks of joy when I would hug one of my patients or simply come along side them and scratch their backs. I mean, really, doesn’t everyone like a good back scratch? The ladies especially loved it when I would give them a manicure and rub lotion into their hands and forearms. I loved to see the look in their eyes when they saw me coming.

    It’s a shame that something as simple and healing as the human touch has come to be so miscontrued and frowned upon. Why can’t we innocently show one another the love of God with the simple touch of the hand?

    Thank you for reminding me of my work with those patients. It was beautifully fulfilling work and I went home satisfied every day. I need to remind myself that I am doing just as important work now – but on a different level. How can I be the hand of God with my students?