The Keeper

I’ve known Kara for about 8 years.  

 

She was a compassionate soul.  Her gentle nature immediately comforted those around her.  She was easy to be with and to converse with.  She was quiet but her tenderness was evident and touched those around.  

 

I knew that Kara had suffered greatly.  At our meetings I would notice her hanging her head low.  She didn’t describe many of her circumstances but it was clear that life had been oppressive at its extreme.    

 

While I was in Thailand I learned of Kara’s death.  The more I learned of her death, the deeper my sorrow, for Kara had died alone.  After years of ridicule, oppression, homelessness and pain Kara died alone in her camp and was found hours later.

 

Today her companion of twenty years held a memorial in her honor.  There were only five of us there.  I felt privileged to be one of the few invited to this sacred occasion.  As we began to share stories of Kara, a tapestry was woven together of a woman, a mother, a companion, a friend who loved people.  She had faced abuse and discrimination with grace, dignity and strength.  Though Kara was misunderstood she found a way to draw those in– those who would otherwise be cast out.  Due to her great compassion and care her friends called her, “The Keeper of the Throw Aways”.  

 

This gathering was powerful.  I feel changed for having known her.  I feel changed for having the opportunity to remember together her beautiful life– to celebrate her existence.  

 

And now I ponder, “how will she be remembered”?

 

I am all too aware of the fact that people die on the streets in Seattle all of the time.  Many die and are not remembered.  They are not celebrated.  I think of Kara and wonder, “how is that we (a society) allowed her to go through this life invisible, undefended and unloved”?  As I listened to her story I can’t help but ask myself, “how is this okay”?  

 

As I drove away I’ll be honest I wondered, I angsted over what more could have been done for Kara.  How could I have established more trust so that I could have known about her health conditions?  Maybe she would still be alive if she had received the proper care for her diminishing health.  And then I am reminded that there are far too many politics that go into who gets medical help or not…  How do I play a role in those politics?

 

It is clearer to me today that we are not passionate enough about those that literally sit on the fringes of our communities.  We go to our places of privilege– our churches, our workplaces, our coffee shops– passing those that go invisible right under our nose and we take no notice.  We get too uncomfortable to talk about the disparities, the inequities, the unfairness of our neighborhoods and so we silence ourselves and look the other way.  It’s too awkward to acknowledge the reality that people are beat down, abused and mocked at daily because of their status in life.  Maybe we do what we can within the system but we have difficulty advocating more strongly the need for justice to those that we have deemed to have no voice.   

 

Folks, why are we not more passionate about people?  

 

As a pastor, people often ask me about life after death.  I have great comfort in saying that I believe that Kara is at peace now.  After years of suffering and struggle, I believe with all of my heart that Kara is resting with her maker.  In reflection of her today, I remembered that God’s love had always been with her.  It is that love that gave her the strength to be the mom that she was, to love others and to not condemn.  After all she had been through, she was open and engaging of all those around her.  

 

God’s love endures in her and in her memory.

 

At her memorial we read aloud Psalm 136.  Here is an excerpt from this passage:

 

He remembered us in our low estate 
            His love endures forever. 
and freed us from our enemies. 
            His love endures forever. 
He gives food to every creature. 
            His love endures forever.

 Give thanks to the God of heaven. 
            His love endures forever.

Advertisement