A Peculiar Parallel: Matthew is 21 and Henry is Starving

I had an epiphany today about my son Matthew, turning 21 tomorrow, and Henry, a young Malawian man suffering from near starvation.  A peculiar parallel, but I’d like to share it with you.

Henry, once strong and hard-working as a contract painter at Hope Village, is now dangerously close to starvation due to a mysterious disease eating away at his throat and esophagus. He is a 30-something father of 4, his only son a 10-year old wheel chair prisoner due to cerebral palsy.  

Here's a picture of Henry before he got sick.

Henry lives in a typical mud brick home in the middle of a shade-less hot and dusty Malawian village. With no income since becoming ill, he aches more from the worry of how to feed his son and 3 young daughters than he does from the acute throat lesions that have kept him from eating for two months.

I suddenly realized:  I never hear Henry complain.

After a 12-hour day today – 4 hours in the car and 8 hours at the hospital – Don and I take Henry home. We leave him, once again, with no answers from the doctors. No hope for relief. No advice on how to eat, or drink, or gain strength. I watch him lay down slowly, weakly, on his mat ...

on the ground

on the dirt
               next to his son's wheelchair

               outside his home made of mud. 

How can it be, I wonder, that I never hear Henry complain?

I dwell on this phenomenon as we drive home, staring at the propensity of third-world poverty passing by my window.

Malawians never complain. Not Henry. Not the orphans or widows or sick and starving people I meet every day. They have so many reasons to whine. I know I would.  But they don’t.

And then I think of Matty. He’s turning 21, so I’m having oodles of Matthew memories gushing from my heart.

And I realize. I never hear Matthew complain.

Like flipping channels between a light-hearted sitcom and a heart-wrenching documentary, the obvious dichotomy between Matthew, Henry and Malawians doesn’t stop my comparison.

I remember the first 21 years of Matty’s life with a grateful smile, a warm tear, a heavy sigh, and a thankful heart. 

I still hear the giggles in thousands of moments of loving, cuddling, playing, camping and just abundantly blessed living. But I also recall growing pains, school mistakes, and sports disappointments; complications from blended families, too many homes, and too many schools. 

A mom who worked too much,

  a dad who pushed too hard,

    and expectations from both that were set too high. 

But in every flash of my memory, I never hear Matthew complain.

He never laments over little things like doing the dishes, or big things like moving houses 10 times or changing schools 7 times. He never groans over silly things like sister drama or life-changing things like parents who live in separate houses. If a friend shuns him, he shrugs it off.

Disappointments roll off his back like raindrops on a waxy windshield.   They just don’t stick.

Some people, like Matthew and Henry, are just not wired to whimper.

Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe.  Phil 2:14

Admittedly, I am part of this crooked and depraved generation.  But I also know that God calls us to try to be blameless and pure, so even without the use of words, we can bring others closer to Him.  I am humbly uplifted by people – like Matthew and Henry and so many Malawians -- who shine not because of something they have, but because of something they lack.  A void of complaints. By failing at wailing.

So today, on Matthew’s 21^st birthday, I thank my Creator who gave this child to me on September 22, 1992, with such a gentle disposition that “shines like stars in the universe.”

I thank Him for this day with Henry, for opening my eyes, closing my mouth, and drenching me in His mercy.

And for Matty, 10,000 miles away, I say “Thank you for your bounty of gifts that come to me as smiles, hugs and shoulder rubs instead of gripes or complaints."

“Thank you for your gift of grace through my failings as a mother, your sweet acceptance instead of accusations."

“Happy Birthday, Matthew. I love you and am so proud of you!”