There have now been two memorials in my life that have been most memorable. The first was when I was a teenager and my sister and I accidentally dropped the plate of bread. (I'm sure Grandma remembers that one) That one goes on the top of the 'mortified' memorials list.
Today's experience tops a different list, let me tell you what happened...
About a week ago, I got very sick. Unfortunately the morning I woke up feeling the worst was the last Saturday of March, the day I had planned on finishing my time for auxiliary pioneering. I woke up and attempted to cook breakfast and get dressed for service, but quickly realized I was in absolutely no condition to leave the house. This was a very depressing day. I laid in bed all day and watched the hours, and my chance to make my time, slip away. Wishing I could have gotten sick tomorrow instead so I could finish my time. Needless to say, I was feeling like a bit of a failure... and with the memorial only a few days away I knew that if I didn't get better I would have no time to engage in the invitation work.
Well, days went by and it got worse. I went from feeling bad to feeling like death warmed over. I wasn't able to breath properly because of all the fluid in my lungs, in addition to a soar throat, fever, and constant headache. Finally my boss demanded I see a doctor. She made her husband walk me to the nearest clinic and have me examined. The doctor told me I had a bronchial infection, and prescribed me lots of colorful pills to take. So I complied. That night I came home hoping this would help the situation when suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my back, and my right leg seized up. Next morning I awoke in agony. My lower back had gone out so badly that I could hardy stand up or sit, even laying down was uncomfortable. The worst part was that all the mucous was breaking loose because of the medicine the doctor had given me, so I was constantly coughing very violently as my lungs attempted to eject anything in them. But each time I coughed it felt like whip-lash to my back. If I didn't cough, I couldn't breath. So I was sort of stuck in a catch-22.
Needless to say, my situation was getting worse. I called in sick to my jobs. And feeling desperate on Wednesday night, I emailed a friend who I thought might know of a chiropractor in the city. (As it turns out, the Taiwanese have no concept of chiropractic care, they assume you mean massage therapist or doctor)
This morning: Very kindly, my friend recommended a lady she had been to that helped her before and booked me an appointment. However the lady had moved to a different city since then. So I decided to give it a try in hopes I could make it to the memorial tonight. Problem was, I could hardly walk and sitting was excruciating. So getting to the city (which is an hour bus ride away) would be troublesome. So I hailed a cab and toughed it out. When I arrived at the address given to me, there was nothing there but some little back-alley tire shop and an old poster on a rather unkempt doorway that said 'Swedish Spa'. I rang the doorbell a number of times, but no one came. After calling my friend, and about a half hour of waiting in the rain, I was informed they had moved their office. I was in so much pain I was about to hail the nearest taxi and leave. But then a minivan pulled up near me. The door opened and two women waved me over. They had come to collect me and take me to the new spa. As it turns out, there was no chiropractor there at all. The woman is a massage therapist and no one there spoke English. But I figured, I came all this way and it might help, I was desperate at this point. I will say this... it was the most torturous, painful, and long massage I've ever had. I left, and took a train back home. But, I still felt horrible. In fact, now I felt pain everywhere from the beating I received. I hobbled home in the pouring rain as fast as my twisted tortured body would let me. But by the time I got there it was 5:50 pm... and memorial started at 6:00 pm... and the Kingdom Hall is 45 minutes away. I prayed to Jehovah to help me just make it there, and tried to put a skirt on. I walked about 3 blocks in the pouring rain and realized that by the time I would get there it would be over. Not to mention I was in so much pain I was nearly in tears, and my shoes were full of water already. So I turned back and hobbled home defeated. I felt so depressed and lame. I just laid in bed and cried myself to sleep. I couldn't believe all my efforts were in vain, and that I'd miss the most important day of the year.
Then about an hour later my phone rang. It was an elder from my congregation calling to make sure I was okay. I explained what happened, and he was very understanding. He contacted a brother who had planned on giving the memorial talk out at the east coast tonight. He wasn't able to make it out there for some extenuating circumstances, so he and another brother arranged to come to our apartment and give the talk here for me.
By the time they were able to arrive it was about 11:00 pm. Equipped with bibles, wine, and unleavened bread they prepared a humble presentation on my plastic dishes. We sat in my living room and the brother gave a nice memorial talk, and prayer, and even got to pass the emblems... to an audience of one.
I can't express how thankful I am to them for making a special trip here to allow me to participate in the memorial. I really see how Jehovah took care of me in my time of need. I know first hand that not one of Jehovah's sheep goes overlooked. All the grief of the past week sort of melts away after receiving such a blessing.
And although I am still laid up in bed, and in pain... I am truly happy.
The two brothers who conducted the memorial at my apartment.
The emblems (fine dining wear courtesy of the Barksdales)
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