Yesterday, three of our precious little ones, refugees and new arrivals, from Rwanda, woke up with great anticipation for the day.  It was Saturday, Bridge of Hope day!! They were so excited for a morning of arts, crafts, love, play and safety!!! Big sister pushed the button and waited for the light to change. Mom stayed home with the baby who was fighting a cold. The light changed to green. They were almost there!! The eleven year old, was the first to step out into the street. Out of no where, a SUV came barreling through a red light and slammed into her. She flew up and landed in the middle of the street. The car swerved around her and continued speeding on through to the next red light, leaving the little girl alone, and broken, as her sisters screamed and collapsed in terror and disbelief.

At Bridge of Hope, we always begin our day, holding hands with all who are there. Different cultures, beliefs, ages, tribes and tongues. Together, we pray and thank God for the day, the property, and the love that is there. We paused as sirens went screaming by, asking God to be with whoever has been hurt or in danger. Never dreaming it was one of ours.

Once we heard the news, we ran up to the street corner, where many of our new families stood in shock and disbelief of what happened.

“This is America. This isn’t supposed to happen here.”

The little girl was taken away by ambulance. Her sisters completely undone and traumatized, being held up by strangers,  trying to wrap their young minds around what has just happened.
Dad and mom stood, looking up to heaven with tears streaming down their faces. Dad had been a victim of a hit and run within the first month of their arrival. He suffered broken bones and has had two surgeries so far.

I witnessed that familiar look in their eyes and bodies. My heart sank as I cried.  Trauma; It changes a person.

Just like refugees who come to America, thinking they are now in the land of plenty, peace and no more struggle.  As a child of God, I realized after loosing Nate, that I kind of thought that life would be that way for me too.  It is not that bad things hadn’t happened in my life up to that point. Believe me, many things have happened. But, loosing my son? Never!!!  God would never let that kind of suffering happen to me.

I have had to work through thoughts and feelings of  betrayal and abandonment by my Papa God.  He’s my dad. He is protector. He knows me so well, and knows what I can handle. I can’t handle this.

God made us to love deeply; to connect, protect, fight for life and each other, childlike, intimate, intertwined, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers- LOVE!!! we suffer because of love. That is how God made us.

Jesus, God’s son. If you see Him, you see the Father. Our God of suffering.

Isaiah 53:3

He was despised and rejected by mankind,
a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.

Jesus, a man who wept when He saw Mary and Martha’ s broken hearts, because their brother Lazarus died.( John 11 )He knew He would raise him from the dead, but still He wept. The pain and sadness of trauma in this life affects all of us, and that is why I believe Jesus wept. He is not in anguish over the death of Lazarus, but rather saddened by the pain and sadness they feel. He is weeping with those who weep (Rom 12:15) because he loves them.

God suffers because He loves us.

The pain He suffered because of His son’s suffering and death on the cross.  The anguish and pain of hearing Jesus cry out, “Why have thou forsaken me?” The pain of God seeing His children suffer. The pain Jesus felt as he looked at the widow who’s son died, that led Him to raise him from the dead, without her asking. Luke 7:11-17

God’s suffering love. We too suffer, because of love.

The little girl who got hit by a car, has broken bones in her leg and ankle. Physically she will be ok. God will be with her in the valley of this trauma. He will never leave her or forsake her, as she walks through, but the trauma wound will have its mark on her and her family, just like the scars that remain on Jesus’ body.