Here’s an awesome post to read in light of Is. 43:1-3. Read the following post from 6YearMed with the following verses in view:
Isaiah 43:1–3 (ESV)
1 But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. 2 When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. 3 For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.
Ok, now the post:
When you are not known, things are different. Not different like special, but different like worse. I guess maybe special, but not in a magical way.
“Approximately 15-year-old female involved in a prolonged extrication. The car was on fire. The driver is dead.”
“What’s her name?”
“We don’t know.”
When you are not known, no one smooths back your hair to say there, there, love.
When you are not known, everyone wears more protection than seems necessary, covering up skin, mouth and eyes. A mass of yellow and blue moving around like mad worker bees, poised to sting at any moment.
“She’s agitated. Obviously both legs are broken. We think her pelvis is probably too.”
“She’s moving! Give her some fentanyl.”
When you are not known, your world is loud, but you must be silent.
When you are not known, pain is relative.
“Can someone cut this outfit off her please? What is this? A jersey?”
Every tattoo, piercing, hair style and clothing choice you have ever made to help you stand out only looks a blur in the mess of wet sheets and blood.
Until someone claims you. Until you have a name. A future.
“We found her brother. He’s on his way.”
And then you are known, and we speak your name over you like medicine, and rub it on your wounds as ointment. We imagine you at a middle school dance, back pressed to the wall and smiling awkwardly. We notice the ribbon in your blood-matted hair.
There, there. We say. There, there.