Isaac, the brave

When you think about it; your life is all you'll ever know. You only know what you see, what you feel. Empathy doesn't exactly work in this world. You might think what emotions you have felt are comparable to others but you'll never know. You'll think the pain that you've felt is the hardest that ever existed and you'd think you're right because you'll never actually know. A broken leg may well be more painful than 3 fractured ribs injured in different circumstances, but you'll never know.  So you might as well be right. 

In a sense, I've always thought, it gives you a feeling of empowerment. You feel like you're (for want of a better word) the 'chosen one'. The human who was meant to feel explicit emotions. And because you only know you, you feel like you have to do something. Be someone. Change the world. And moreover, you may feel as though you have the power to carry it through. 

Forgive me if I'm confusing you, this has always been a hard concept to explain. 

There was a little boy who was the son of a couple who attended the church that I began to at University. The boy was Isaac and he was about 2 years old but he'd spent much of his life fighting chest infections amongst other illnesses I was too new to know about. 

My last service in the church was on the 2nd Sunday of Advent and his mother attended. The priest called her to the front half way through the service and we did a communal prayer. For her son. It was incredibly spiritual - everyone holding out their hands to this mother, assenting at particular parts of the prayer. And when it was over the room was flushed with tears. 

Holding out my hand to her, I felt like I could change her son's life. This force, power and compassion was channelled through my hands. I had the feeling of empowerment. The belief that I was the chosen one. That I had the power to make things right. 

And so, when I received an email entitled 'Isaac', it was with regret that I opened it. All other updates of his progress had been; Isaac - a bad evening. Or Isaac - in Paediatrics Intensive Care. But I knew what a heading like Isaac meant. 

Indeed he had passed away. The power I had felt in praying for his mother seemed futile. Hopefully it had helped but it hadn't saved him. Like I thought it could have. 

The world is a bizarre place. You are led to feel emotions that don't materialise. Who knows what powers each individual has. Who knows how different we are from who we think we are. 

For Isaac, nothing more can be done. Nothing but prayer. Please pray for his family; his parents, those who knew him, those who loved him. And him; Isaac - a brave young boy with the most gorgeous smile, a loving family and life cut too short.