There are 35.3 million people living with Aids around the world.
3 million people still die every year from this disease.
Over 65% of those infected do not have access to the drugs that would help.
On this day I think back on all those brave soldiers whom I have known that have struggled valiantly with this disease.
I wrote the following words in a blog piece in 2009. It makes me remember so many who have given so much.
Michael
He had come
home from the West Coast to Kentucky to die. He was trying to work but he was
exhausted most of the time. They baptized Michael the Sunday after he joined
the church. I was proud of that little church that reached out and took Michael
into their hearts. In less than two months he was dead. But I have thought
about Michael, his mother who loved him fiercely and his family and church that
stood by him to the end. I realized twenty years ago that if AIDS could come to
that little rural village, on a side road, it could touch any community in
America.
Two weeks after my encounter with
Michael I was invited to participate in a healing service for people with AIDS
at the downtown Episcopal Church in Memphis, Tennessee. That night, as the
people streamed forward and whispered their requests for healing I was one of
the ministers who heard their sad requests. It was a holy moment. One old man said, “I have a son dying of
AIDS and it’s killing me.” One young man told me, “My partner died six months ago
and I am very sick—would you pray for me.” A mother leaned forward and said,
“My boy is very sick and I don’t know if I can hold out to care for him. It’s
hard.” Person after person whispered their needs. Parents, friends,
siblings—partners. That evening touched me at some deep level I cannot fully
understand. I saw the human side of
this disease.
Little Maggie
The first
big challenge with AIDS was when one of our members wanted to bring a little
black girl named Maggie to our church nursery. Remember this was eighteen or so
years ago. Everybody was scared of AIDS and infection. Here was a challenge:
could we put our own children at risk? Could we possibly turn away someone who
needed the church? We invited all our children’s’ workers in for a Seminar. A
physician, no stranger to our church who worked with the Center of Disease
Control came to talk to us about the realities we faced. We learned about
Universal health precautions. We learned that with great care Maggie was no
threat. Reluctantly our workers agreed and aids came walking into our church.
Kevin
Months
later a member came by and said, “I have this friend who goes to another
church. She has a son very sick with AIDS. He is coming back from California to
live with her—and she doesn’t think her church will accept him. You think we
could do that?” “Hmm,” I thought, “who knows—I would certainly hope we would
take them.” She joined the church weeks later. And when her son came home from
California furious and angry and his life had been turned upside down. You
could tell he was sick just by looking. One Sunday he came to church and people
welcomed him. Months later he walked down the aisle one Sunday and said he
wanted to join our church.
I didn’t
know how people would respond. But my little church opened up its heart to
Kevin and his mother. He would live, as I remember about a year and a half.
Toward the end he was very sick. The last day of his life his Sunday school
class went twelve miles stand around his bed and give him Holy Communion. It
was the last food he ever took by mouth.
Charles...Karron...Gary...Roy
Since that
time many gay people wandered into our church and many stayed. It was not an
easy struggle. Over and over I would say that this was an integrity issue and
either we welcomed all or we were not a real church. Slowly that congregation rose
to the occasion. First we lost Kevin and then Charles. Karron would be next—and
then Gary and dear Roy. Since those early days we have made great strides. The University of Alabama at Birmingham has been on the forefront of research for HIV/AIDS problems.
Since my journey with AIDS began over
twenty years ago we have made much progress. Drugs have been discovered that
have prolonged life. I have met many persons who are profiles in courage. I
have seen the ugly face of discrimination up close. People who could not let
their employers know they were sick and paid costly, costly medical bills out
of their own pockets. I have heard stories of parents who turned their backs on
their children—leaving them without resources to live or die alone. One
prominent family told none of their friends that their son was home sick and
when he died no one knew. They were ashamed. No obituary. No funeral service
except the four of them. And yet I have seen some members of the most
conservative churches reach out and open their hearts to families in great
pain. I have seen other people change their minds and hearts.
We have made
great progress—though we have a long way to go.People complain to me sometimes,
“AIDS is not the only terminal disease.” And they are right. My brother has battled
cancer. My mother and father both died of heart disease. My mother-in-law was
taken by Alzheimer’s. There are a multitude of killing diseases out there. But
we are to respond with care and love with whatever the disease and whatever the
condition. I do know this—I have seen the face of AIDS a multitude of times
these last twenty years and the lenses through which I see the world will
always be different.
i had a precious 16 year old student who had the same boyfriend for 3 years shyly show me the pamphlet on aids when she returned from the counselor's office. it broke my heart. she lived to her mid-20's. what a terrible loss
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