These Are People.

I’ve begun to ask myself some hard questions. One of which I cannot seem to get away from. What would I feel like if all of a sudden, because of something that I had no control over, I found myself utterly alone? Rejected by everyone I’ve known all my life…

Here you have these people. The utterly rejected, the outcast, those who have not been accepted by society, by family, by friends, by those who should have accepted them, loved them, been there for them, supported them, walked with them no matter what life brought. These people have a label. No longer are they seen as mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, brothers, sisters, wives, husbands…Their identity is found in one label, their diagnosis: Leprosy. And they are no longer welcome. That one label has infiltrated every part of their lives. Leprosy has come in and tuned their worlds upside down. No more “life as it once was”. Everything changes.

When you begin to see your hands and feet literally fall to pieces, begin to smell the stench of the infected wound that you cannot even feel…life begins to suddenly and drastically change. The perception you once had of you and your life shifts, and shifts rather brutally.

When your mother and father, the people who raised you, fed you (even if that meant they skipped meals themselves), took care of you when you were sick, and tried to make sure they found a good husband for you, the grandparents of your children…want nothing to do with you, literally over night.

When your brother, who you grew up with, fought with, ate with, and played with, the one who teased you seemingly non-stop, pulled your hair and shared your room…no longer welcomes you with open arms as sister.

When your sister, who became your closest friend, the one you shared all your clothes with, who did your hair and let you do hers, the one you cooked meals with, now will not even let you into her home in fear you might contaminate it and her children. Her children, your nieces and nephews. Those sweet babies that you watched be birthed into this world, the ones you held for the first couple years of their lives; those whose faces lit up when they saw you coming…you are now cut off from.

And what about your best friend? The next best thing to your sibling. She/he didn’t have to stay close to you like your brother or sister, but chose to…and now will no longer acknowledge you.

What about the man you married, the one your parents approved of and the one you fell in love with over time. The one you learned to work through things with. The one who was supposed to be there forever, you and him. The father of your children. The one who knew you in a way no other had ever known you. When he puts you out of the house and no longer acknowledges you or your existence as a human, let alone the mother of his children. Instead, he sends you away.  Later you hear, maybe weeks, maybe months, that he married another woman. This other woman is now in your husband’s bed where you once laid. Cooking and cleaning in the house you once lived. This other woman is now living your life, the life that once was yours. And there is absolutely nothing you can do to change it. Thankfully, your children at least have some food to eat and a place to sleep...for now. You hope that they are not treated differently because they are now the children of someone with leprosy, but you also know that that would be an exception to the rule.

What can you do?

Everything that your world was made of, everything that you once knew….it’s all over.

And why is it over? Why can’t the people in your life just walk with you though your condition, offering support and encouragement? Because this is the religion, and the religion is the culture. You are now unclean, obviously being punished by god for some sin you committed in your previous life. So, even god has rejected you. You are a person with leprosy and are not to be associated with, lest others become contaminated by you and your sin.

For many, this is where it ends. No resolve, to resolution, no hope, no happy ending.

This is the reality of numerous people here.  Sometimes we hear stories of women and men that become no more than just that—stories. We read them with good intentions and then move on to the next thing that pops up in our inbox, comes across our screen, or notifies us of it’s importance. In our busyness (without even realizing it) we gloss right over these realities as mere facts and sadly, even think of them as fiction at times. These are not stories, these are people. These are people who live the realities of these stories…every day. They have faces, they have emotions, they have hearts, and they have spirits—all of which have been so wounded. Let us slow down long enough to acknowledge the stories we hear as more than stories, but the people whom these stories represent. Let us acknowledge the humanity of it all, the rawness of emotion, and the reality of their reality. When these people become real to us, their stories can impact our lives and change the way we see the world around us. And hopefully, this change will move us to action in some way, shape, or form. And may that action always begin with prayer.