When Grief and Suffering Transform and Bring Life

Sometimes our greatest transformation comes out of the moments of our deepest grief. Recently, YWAM around the world was rocked by the tragic news that eight key leaders were killed in a horrible bus accident. Our hearts go out to the families and staff who served under these significant leaders. Unexpected tragedies like this can shake us deeply. I’ve felt that shaking, cried those tears, and seen God work deeply. Below is that story.

My Right Arm In the Ministry

From 2001-2004, my closest colleague in YWAM Frontier Missions work was an Indian lady named Dengziki. She was from Mizoram. We had led many trainings together in our city as we were releasing new church planting teams. Her greatest passion was to see North-east Indians released into the nations, with a special focus on China.

I was her leader, but she was like my right arm. We were a team. Together we had birthed a new training program for missionaries and sent more than fifteen people from India into China. They were serving there long-term.

One day, I was working with people in the slums, where we’d started a new branch of the ministry. My husband called my cell phone. “Something has happened to Dengziki,” he said. “It’s serious. You need to go immediately to the hospital.”

I jumped on the scooter and headed for the government facility, about fifteen minutes away. When I arrived and made inquiries, they took me into a room filled with people on cots.

They led me to a bed where I saw a body lay with a sheet over it. It was my friend. She was already dead.

Shock, Grief And Emotional Suppression

Unspeakable shock and grief filled me. I was stunned. Alone and trying to grasp the reality of what had happened, my leadership skills in crisis kicked in. Suppressing my emotions, I began to make calls and arrangements. We would need to contact family and find out what was necessary for her funeral.

The details of what had happened began to fill in. She had been killed in what seemed like a needless accident. An army truck hit the autorickshaw she was riding in. She lay by the side of the road with a severe head injury for an hour or so before being transported to the hospital.

There was no ambulance or emergency care in our city to respond. No 9-1-1 to call. Her niece who was with her was also injured but not as severely.

Someone finally brought her to the hospital in a private vehicle. She died shortly after arriving there.

Fighting To Do The Necessary

Before we could grieve, we had to fight with hospital officials to let us preserve her body. We would need time to get it home to the state of Mizoram, where she was from. The procedures we requested were different from what was normally done. Hindus cremate, but we needed the body preserved for a few days.

We contacted her family and made arrangements for the transport of her body back to a small city in her home state. This was where she was from and would be buried.

I and several others rode in the car with her body on an arduous 36-hour trip over terrible roads. On the way, we stopped in several places to rest and for short memorial services. Finally, we buried my dear friend in her hometown. I was devastated and completely exhausted.

Confusion, Anger, and Deep Sadness Followed

Returning to our home in Northern India, I felt angry and deeply saddened. I was confused by what had happened. Just days before she died, our whole staff “family” had gathered for a day of intercession and prayer. We had specifically asked God to protect us as God’s servants in this city.

“How could this happen?“ I wondered.

My work in ministry came to a complete halt. I had no interest whatsoever in sharing the Gospel with anyone…or doing anything that involved extending myself in any way.

“How are we ever going to survive without her, in the work here?” I asked. It felt as if my right arm had been cut off.

Memories Of A Tiny, Helpless Face

I knew I needed to rest, and give myself time to process the pain and the deep questions I had. I would take some days off, recuperate, watch some movies, and do nothing, I thought. Then I remembered her tiny face.

The face belonged to little Khushi, a baby we had found while weighing kids in the slums a week or so before Dengziki’s death.

Khushi means happy in Hindi. Her face and smile would fulfill her name and bring us much joy.  At seven months old she weighed only seven pounds. This was barely a normal weight at birth!

Severely malnourished, she was like a bag of bones covered in skin. We found this precious child while going door to door. Weighing children from birth to age three was one of our ways of blessing the slum community.

Khushi’s mother and the other relatives in the compound seemed not to care if she lived or died. Another mouth to feed…another baby girl.

Her Amazing Eyes Reached Out

It had seemed incomprehensible to me when we first found her. How could they allow an infant to get into such a bad condition? Her skin was loose, her eyes sunken, and she could barely lift her head.

Yet she had these amazing eyes that connected with you when you looked at her. She was way below our lowest numbers on the growth charts we used to show malnutrition.

Before Dengziki’s death, we had helped the family by providing baby formula. We gave them a couple of bottles and tried to assist, doing what was needed to improve her condition.

But her mother seemed to show little interest, and her father was always at work. A few days after our first contact with Khushi, her mother abandoned her and the family. She left this precious girl in the care of her 14-year-old auntie, a girl named Maya.

A Quick Visit To Check On Her

One morning, a few days after returning home from Mizoram, despite my grief, I kept thinking about this baby.

“If I don’t go to check on her, I wonder if she will die? I wonder if her family is feeding her or not?” Questions like this wouldn’t go away.

“I’ll just go and look in on her, then come straight home,” I thought. “After that, I’m not doing anything else. I need rest after what I’ve been through.”

When I went and examined little Khushi, she had lost even more weight. She could not afford to do that!

“I have to do something to help this little one,” I told myself. I called my husband, described the situation, and asked, “Do you think I should bring her home?” He agreed to pray, and that night, when we sought the Lord, we sensed this was what God wanted us to do.

We approached Khushi’s father Ritlal. “How would you feel about us taking her into our home for a while?” we asked.

Explaining the seriousness of her condition, we told him he would be welcome to come and see her anytime.

“After she is better, she can come back and live with you again,” we said. He gratefully agreed. That led to a trip to the local courthouse with a lawyer friend. She helped us draw up the papers to gain legal custody of Khushi.

“Live Little One”

After bringing her home, Khushi became the center of our lives for a while. Everyone in our family (and extended family) pitched in to help! Our two daughters, our female staff members, even our 9-year-old son joined in caring for this starving baby. My husband Todd, an absolute natural as a Dad, was a huge help. He carried the load as much as I did.

It was a lot of work. The first week her stomach was unable to absorb anything she ate. It all came back out. She was starving though and took in bottle after bottle of milk formula.

We loved her, held her, sang to her, slept beside her, and prayed over her. “Live little one,” I gently admonished as I cradled her.

An Irresistible Smile

The funny thing about Khushi was she smiled all the time those first few weeks. It was how she communicated with us, I guess. She was too weak to do anything else. Her huge grin and those tiny eyebrows that went up quizzically were how she told us she was there…fighting for her life.

After a week, I took her to a local pediatrician. “Whatever you are doing, it’s starting to work,” he said. He showed me the tiny bits of fat beginning to come on her cheeks. Yes! Progress! The love and prayers were working!

After two weeks, her father came to visit her.

“She likes bananas,” we had told him. From then on, whenever he came, he visited with a big bunch of bananas in hand. He loved his little girl, he just couldn’t care for her and work twelve-hour days at the factory.

A Family Visit

“Can I bring the rest of my family to see her?” he asked. “Sure,” we said, little realizing that in an Indian family that could mean more than 20 people would visit!

That very night they came…all the relatives. His brothers and their wives, his sisters, an auntie, and a neighbor, all filed in to see the amazing change in little Khusi. She was already like a different baby, able to hold up her head, and showing signs of recovering.

We explained to them why we loved Khushi. It was because of the love Jesus had shown to us. The SatGuru (True Teacher) Jesus, had taught us to love our neighbors as ourselves. That meant that we needed to feed the hungry, care for the weak, and help the helpless.

Our next step was to show them the Jesus film. This was followed by an evangelistic film in Hindi made by Create International.

I think they would have stayed all night! You could see the interest and hunger in their eyes as they watched and heard the message of the gospel for the first time.

I Know Jesus Is The True God

A week later, Khushi’s father, Ritlal, came once again with bananas in hand, to see his little girl. He told us, “When you first came to our home and began to share with us about your Jesus, I wasn’t interested. Why should I add one more god to my life?” I was interested to hear what he would say next.

“As Hindus, we already have so many gods. But I saw these past three weeks, how much you love my little girl. You love her as if she were your own child though you have no reason to. From this, I know that the Jesus you speak of is the true God. I want to become a follower of Jesus!”

We took time to explain more of the gospel to him, to make sure he truly understood. Reviewing why Jesus had come to earth, his salvation, love, and plan, we confirmed that he knew what this meant. Then Khushi’s dad prayed and received Jesus as his Savior.

We had little idea how the simple act of obedience and love in bringing Khushi into our home would affect our lives. It not only changed us, but it also brought transformation to the community in which we had begun to work.

“Isn’t it strange,” I pondered. “I was able to help Khushi, but she helped me even more.”

Whatever tragedy you are facing now, or in the future, God can turn it into Kingdom transformation. Grief and suffering are not something we can avoid in this life, but He can use them for His glory as we place our trust in His amazing love and goodness. Today Khusi loves Jesus and has just completed her YWAM Discipleship Training School. To God be the glory!

The above is an excerpt from my memoir. Find out more about it and be notified when it is released by filling out the form below.