When I was little, I used to have severe nose bleeds. Growing up in Siberia - the air was always cold (beyond cold) and dry, which aggravated my nasal capillaries all the time, whether I was sick with a cold or not. Sometimes my nosebleeds would last for an hour, sometimes longer - I guess I did not clot very well. It was something that I have gotten used to dealing with, but each time - it was devastating to me as a child. If my nose started bleeding - my little world would get even smaller. I would be confined to the bed, chair, couch, with my only view - the ceiling. The ceiling would be the only thing I would see for the next 10, 20, 60, or more minutes. My throat would get sore and it would eventually be difficult to swallow. My stomach would hurt from all the swallowed blood.
But the worst, in my mind, was when it would start bleeding when I am in public. Luckily, I don't recall it happen too often. In addition to having to stop everything I was doing, I was extremely humiliated by this condition. I would be terrified by the prospect of someone seeing blood pouring out of my nose.
I think I would mind less having been stabbed, rather than someone seeing my nose bleed.
I recall this one time, when I was about 10 years old - walking to school with my best friend at the time. Her name is Olga. We were the kind of friends that did everything together, including get in trouble. This morning, my nose decided to start gushing blood. I was devastated - not only I was humiliated, but now I was going to be late for school, unless I decided to walk across town while admiring the sky, and hope to make it across the streets alive. I was almost ready to cry from frustration. My friend, however, just sat me down on a bench and sat next to me. She showed no distress over being late for school, but every intention of staying with me until I was better.
She did another thing, which was a simple show of compassion, but it touched my heart in a profound way. She took a piece of snow and started cleaning my nostril from the blood. Here I sat with another person, embarrassed by this, and that person did not mind but rather tried her best to clean me up.She showed me that she wasn't disgusted by me, and that it was OK. I was going to be better.
I remembered that incident throughout the years. At that moment, my friend Olga was Jesus to me. She got saved many years later, as I found out from her letters and grown very close to the Lord. And I am so grateful for the Lord providing me with such a tender moment of someone's friendship, and His presence, when I was in a scary situation for a child.
I hope I can be a Jesus like that to someone else. To my family, my son, my friends, or even a stranger. It is amazing how God is an all-powerful being, yet such a gentle shepherd of every little lamb down here. My hope is that I don't miss the opportunity to be his hands when He calls me.