After Reem and her mum went back to Gaza via ambulance transfer tonight, I found that there was not a void of hopelessness inside me, even though her outcome is still unknown (if not negative) and we know she isn’t going to another hospital that is on par with Sheba; none of the hospitals in Gaza are.
Medical equipment helps save lives, in the same way that numbers help in a battle, but likewise numbers do not win a battle, and neither does all the medical expertise and equipment in the world have the ultimate power over life and death. Recently one of the doctors, not a religious man himself, even encouraged us to keep praying because he’s seen it work.
The time Georgia, Jonathan and I spent with Reem and her mum before the ambulance arrived was blessed, not because it was the picture of serenity–actually at moments it was quite chaotic–but because the love we share is genuine.
Earlier today Georgia had suggested we bring a gift for Reem, so we went to look at some of the new donated clothes and literally sitting on top of the piles were two articles of a clothing, a onesie and a pair of pants, which both had deer on them. Now the significance is that Reem’s name means “deer eyes,” which befits the wide, doe-like eyes that she has. God was so faithful in this seemingly small thing, we wanted to give a gift that meant something, that was special, and to find two items with deer on them lying on top of shelves worth of clothes five minutes before we had to leave, was certainly divinely orchestrated. Her mum was so excited when she realized that a deer was on the clothes:
Along with Reem’s present, we gave her mum an Arabic bible, and Yousef packed an MP3 of the new covenant. She also got to speak with Lucy, who, along with her husband are local leaders for Reem in England. Lucy vowed that they would keep praying for life over Reem.
The ambulance arrived and in a whirlwind it seemed that Reem was transferred to the vehicle and Reem’s mum seated in the passenger seat (and her bags, which almost did not make it because of the tight squeeze were safely stowed behind the front seat, thank you God). We hugged goodbye through the window.
“Until we meet again,” I said. Whether we meet again in six months if Reem comes back for a checkup or if we meet on the other side of eternity, worshipping the risen saviour. I don’t know, but I have the unmistakable inkling of a mysterious third party, who is liable to intervene in ways we never thought possible. Like taking the form of a servant and submitting to death on a cross.
This isn’t the end for Reem, whether she is at Sheba or in Gaza, Jesus has her in His arms, and however much we love her, His love is greater still.