Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Little Blessings

Before Joel's accident, I finished Ann Voskamp's book, "One Thousand Gifts."  Good thing, too, because her perspective has been invaluable through these weeks.  I even preached a sermon at church (at the last minute) on this topic - and now I get to live it to the max!  Basically, she contends that in the Scripture, thanksgiving always precedes the miracle, and thanksgiving produces joy.  In the first week at the  hospital, I started a journal of things for which I feel truly grateful.  When I try, I can find myriads of little blessings in the midst of this great calamity.  I'm up to 290 right now. Here are a few that seem universal:

#6 - Sunshine pours in our window in the morning
#21 - Sarah can drive
#39 - Facebook
#49 - Good Earth tea
#81 - Though I am weak, the Lord is strong
#108 - Whole wheat crepes for lunch
#169 - Daniel hugged and encouraged me when I cried
#202 - A good nap
#224 - Seeing smiling little kids
#254 - Walking at the New Hope YMCA while watching Jeopardy
#288 - Pete got the OK today to walk without limping as possible

Just tonight, while Joel slept after the second busy day in a row, I donned tennis shoes and T-shirt to walk for some much-needed exercise.  I decided to explore the other end of the parking lot and to my surprise, discovered the Three Rivers Recreational Area and its mountain bike trail.  The heavily wooded area could have passed for Sibley State Park; the trail provided comfortable walking; various wildflowers bloomed along the edge, and I ended up in Schafer Park with its own tiny swamp and a bridge over a creek.  What a gem!  Quiet, peaceful (except for bikers whizzing by) Nature, right in the middle of the city.  As I headed into the hospital, two rabbits hopped across the lawn to a peony patch.

Thank you, dear Lord, for your many good gifts.  Help me to be truly thankful "in all circumstances," and to trust You in everything.  Amen.


Saturday, July 13, 2013

What Really Matters

Pete says:

Three weeks ago, I brought Sarah, Andrew and Philip to visit Joel, their first time since the accident.  When we finished praying for Joel, Philip was wiping tears from his eyes.   His quality of tenderness doesn't always show, but he regularly seeks Kari and me out at night for a hug, kiss and an “I love you.”  

On Tuesday Philip and I stayed overnight with Kari and then went to HCMC in the morning to be with Joel until 2:30 pm, when we prayed with Joel and departed so we could get to Prinsburg field in time for Philip to warm up for his baseball game.  Despite the losing effort, a big highlight occurred when Philip connected well with a 1-1 pitch, sending it over the fence in left center field.   He crossed the plate, exchanged high fives with his coach and teammates and then deliberately came towards us.  I thought he wanted congratulations for his first home run, but as I fist-pumped with him, I could see he had another mission.  As I listened, Philip uttered what had been on his mind as he felt the sweet feel of ball hitting sweet spot, and as he took the home run trot, and through the high fives and off the field and over to his Dad, “That was for Joel.”

Saturday, July 6, 2013

An Eternal Perspective

Several days ago I battled discouragement for an hour or so.  "It's too hard, Daddy!"  I cried in the bathroom, after we had another setback.  Visions of negative outcomes piled into my mind and I couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel  Then I remembered that a couple of days earlier, after the first or second setback, I had determined before the Lord that I was NOT going to get rattled by these setbacks.  The doctors had all warned us they would occur, and that his ultimate recovery (of breathing, anyway) was not in question.   I could trust them to do their best and Joel's body and the Lord to do the rest, and the bumps in the road would not stop us from reaching our goal.

My current challenge, and I think all of ours, is to gain that eternal perspective that Paul writes about in 2 Corinthians 4:  "Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day  For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comprehension, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen.  For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal."  Previously he had written about his "light and momentary" affliction as "afflicted, perplexed, persecuted, struck down, and always carrying in the body the death of Jesus," so I'm guessing it wasn't that light or that momentary.

If I really believed Jesus when he said things like, "My kingdom is not of the world," and "The kingdom of God is within you," and understood the upside-down nature of the laws of the kingdom of God, I would not panic over the various circumstances of this "seen" life.  I would constantly ask myself, "How can this circumstance be used to glorify God and make his kingdom more real to me and those around me?"  I would trust that the bumps in the road will not stop me from reaching my goal of knowing Christ and making him known.

Lord, I believe - help my unbelief!

Thursday, July 4, 2013

Culture Clashes

It is certainly an experience to be here in the city.  I love walking around downtown, but today saddened me as I left Target with my drawer organizer.  A man stood on the corner with a poster, shouting at the top of his lungs.  His T-shirt read, "Jesus Hates.  Prov. 6:16-19."  The poster had a list - "Dressing like whores.  Mocking the law of God.  Committing adultery," etc. - there were at least fifteen items.  His voice must have been amplified, but he was still hollering in a tone that sounded like some movie character I can't quite place, "You are all doomed!  God is angry with you!"  etc., nonstop.  I met his glance, sadly shook my head and walked on.  Of course the Lord hates sin; we all do, if we really stop to think about it.  Does any one of us love "haughty eyes" or "lying tongues" or "hands that shed innocent blood"?  But did that man read to the end of the passage he cited, where the Lord hates "a person who stirs up conflict in the community"?  Or read on to Jesus' words, "For God so loved the world..."?  I am so thankful that my Christian culture does not support this kind of activity.

On the other hand, the signs I am reading on T-shirts and even trucks during this Gay Pride Weekend don't resonate with me, either.  "I Support the Freedom to Marry" bewilders me.  To me, marriage is more a duty, an obligation.  It is what creates the safe, secure nest that a baby deserves before parents have sex that could make a baby.  Back in my day, a lot of people "had to get married," meaning they got pregnant and therefore it was their duty to marry, grow up and provide a good home for the child they chose to create.  Now, of course, that seems ludicrous to many Americans.  I wonder if that truck owner would support the freedom to marry if the freedom to divorce wasn't already guaranteed.  A friend of mine has married twice, and divorced twice.  I don't support his freedom to marry.  I wish he would just stay single and do his best for his daughter.

A T-shirt proclaimed, "I am Standing on the Right Side of History."  That reminded me of the last group making that claim - the Communists of Soviet Russia.  "We will bury you," etc.  Communism turned out NOT to be on the right side of history because it envisioned a perfectible human nature that doesn't exist.  I believe the current anti-traditionalist American view of our sexuality is not based on truth, either - and that's why it's been so destructive already, with all the broken homes and transitory relationships.

A culture clash of an entirely different kind occurred on our hospital floor.  As a Somali woman's condition grew steadily worse, the flow of burkha'ed women into the SICU waiting room increased to a flood.  The room is set up with five tables, about 30 chairs and 6 end tables, as well as a sink, microwave, refrigerator and a row of lockers on one wall, where we can store belongings.  I have started to keep much of my stuff in a locker because of the MRSA bug in Joel's room; everything that comes out of the room has to be disinfected, and it's hard to do that with dishes, books, jackets, etc.  Well, several times a day the ladies have to say their prayers - lined up in a row, facing east, and blocking the lockers.  Some of these gals really get into it and stand, kneel, bow onto the floor, pray softly out loud, stand back up again, and generally take quite a while to complete their ritual.  I, of course, did not want to interrupt by putting my things away in the lockers.  It was bad enough, I felt, to creep into the edge of their space by warming my tea in the microwave.

After the third time, I asked the nurses if they knew what times the prayers were at, so I could just avoid the waiting room during those times.  They didn't, so the fourth time, I asked one of the ladies.  She mentioned a few hours - naturally, the times we're most likely to eat.  The nurse mentioned that they had been asked to pray in the Meditation Room instead of in the waiting room; I suspect that they would forget about the prayers until it struck them - "hey, it's prayer time - we need to pray right now," and then would start immediately.  In any case, the SICU patient died about a day later, and the flood of women filled the waiting room.  I'll bet there were fifty or more ladies in a room designed for three to five families of two or three people each.  As Pete and I decided to forego supper in the waiting room and headed for an elevator to go find a restaurant, we heard Charge Nurse Beth, with a security guard at her side, announcing, "Only immediate family can stay.  Everyone else has to leave now."  Beth is the sweetest person on the floor, and it hurt her to have to be so harsh.  But I can only imagine how difficult it would have been for Cole, Daniel and me that first night, had we come into a waiting room overflowing with women instead of an empty one with room to rest.

I appreciate the culture that brings everyone to the hospital in person to support the family of a sick or dying person.   I think it's a great tradition.  However, HCMC is not designed to accommodate that culture, and so exercising that tradition hurts other people.   I don't know if they need to designate another room for certain groups of waiting folks, or limit the number of "waiters" a given patient can have, or what.  But this culture clash is not a "right or wrong" thing; it is what it is, and I hope solutions will be found.