Friendship and history

Faazhya is my 'oldest' friend, going back to kindergarten and her parents are close friends of my parents. This past week, her father died. He was the mayor of the town of Arima in which I grew up in the island of Trinidad & Tobago. His passing was recorded in the Trinidad Express. He had been bedridden for over two years and death loomed over the family for a while. That did not make the 'passing' any easier. When I first got the message, I thought that it was a good thing he was not suffering anymore. Then as the day wore on, something began to grip me and I realized it was my friend's grief that somehow reached me. The depth of her pain gripped me. This is weird, but I sense the pain of anyone who is close to me and is suffering. A gift from God? I don't know, but it draws me into prayer. So I prayed for her and the rest of the family who are like my own family.

I spent many nights at my friend's place on El Carmen St. in Arima, Trinidad. They lived in this charming house with a beautiful garden surrounded by a low fence. They would often invite me to a beach hotel in Mayaro on weekends and treat me like their own daughter. Faazhya and I could talk for hours on the phone and we loved to poke each other in the back seat in their car when we spotted a cute guy as we drove home from school. They often gave me and my sister a ride home. Their family first emigrated to Canada and were instrumental in helping my family to follow a couple of years after. They have always showed kindness to me and made me feel like part of their family.

That is why their grief is mine and my feelings run deep for them. I share in their rejoicing that Mr. Rahim gave his heart to Christ 2 years ago. A miracle for a man who had said that he was born a Muslim and would die a Muslim. Instead, his children and grandchildren, most of whom are now Christians, celebrated his life in a Christian service, rejoicing that in his last days, he looked to heaven and raised his hand. My heart broke when I saw his wife, the grief emblazoned on her face for the man who was her childhood sweetheart, their love going all the way back to when he saw her on her porch at 13 years old. He adored her. His only son testified that he treated all his daughters like princesses and his only son with honour. I agree with that. I used to see his eyes light up when my friend Faaz walked into the room. He was also a jeweller by trade and made me a topaz ring which I still treasure. I am so glad I got the chance to thank him for all that he contributed to my life before he passed on.

Most of all, I am glad that he came to accept Jesus as his Savior and is right now completely healed in the Presence of the Father. In fact, on the morning he died, I had been praying for him, and I had a 'visual sense' of him being ushered into the Presence of the Father.

2 Corinthians 4:17-18

For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

Father, would You please cover the Rahim family with Your blanket of protection? Would You pour Your comfort into the deepest recesses of their heart where pain resides? Would You heal this family and draw them into a more intimate knowledge of You and Your love for them? Would You provide for them financially, emotionally, spiritually? Please thwart any attempt of the enemy to strike them while they are so vulnerable. Bless them, Father and pour Your grace abundantly on them all. In the Name of Jesus, I pray, Amen.

I dedicate this song, I Will Rise, by Chris Tomlin to the Rahim family in honour of his memory: