Caring and Surviving

I'm learning a lot about what it means to be a caregiver.  I'm learning, hopefully, how to reach out to people in similar circumstances.  The strangest thing about it for me is that I don't know what to ask for when people ask how they can help.  Part of that may be because the little child in me wants somebody to make this all go away while the adult in me knows I have to keep on putting one foot in front of the other.  I'm learning things about myself that aren't so pretty but I'm finding traits emerging that I didn't know I had.  All these things point to God's hand at work in my life in the midst of this horrible trial. I long for the day when I can enjoy the blessing of hindsight, the gift of looking back and seeing what God has done - how this looks on the other side.  

I feel so guilty when I find myself sighing from fatigue as I walk into that hospital again and make the hike up to my husband's room.  At least I'm going home to my own bed while he has to stay in the hospital and deal with the struggles of recovery, depression, discouragement.  I deal with those same things, too, but have the advantage of seeing the many signs of a miraculous recovery.  While I inwardly sigh about making this walk on day 31 of this journey, I can rejoice that God has and is indeed healing my husband in miraculous ways.  I hear his nurses using this "M-word" and know that God is being glorified, that the power of prayer is witnessing to the power of God's presence in our lives in a personal, intimate way.  Healing is real.  God is real.  Doctors, with all their knowledge, training and expertise owe their skill to the Giver of this knowledge.  I was so blessed and will never forget hearing my husband's doctor ask for prayers on our long night of waiting 31 days ago.  God is being glorified.

There's a passage in Scripture that always makes me shudder a little bit when I read it.  For me, it's one of those "good-for-you" things that you'd rather not have to deal with or be reminded of:  (from Romans 5:3-5) Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.  The transforming power of God is perfect, good and loving but it is most definitely not always easy.  Yes, there are times when it seems he miraculously transforms us; but it seems to me that most of my transformation has been the kind that I think of when I read the verse above; the transforming that is accomplished by the Lord's loving and necessary pruning of my unfruitful "branches".  I do know, however, that on the other side of this journey I will be able to look back and give thanks for the fruit that was produced by all this pruning.  

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. (James 1:2-4)

"And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20)

Storms and Peace

I've been away from my blog for quite a while.  I've missed the time writing and the little nudges from the Scriptures when I read my Bible in the morning -- those verses that jump off the page and send me off on my rabbit trails that end up on my blog.  Instead, my life has been in a major upheaval.  No matter the outcome, my life has changed completely.  And, I suspect, my faith is on the same roller-coaster of change.  

My husband has been in ICU for 3 weeks following a scheduled surgery that ended up with major complications which almost resulted in death.  Throughout the night of the surgery (long, long 18-hour vigil) I was texting urgent prayer requests which were being passed along to our prayer team and our intercessors.  The surgeon requested prayer, the family and friends sitting in the waiting room were praying, the chaplain came and prayed with us; the whole long night was being bathed in prayer.  And he pulled through.  

I've asked questions, the what-ifs, wondered what I would do if the worst happened.  I've been surrounded and cared for by my dear friends and family.  I've had daily times of completely falling apart.  I've ranted and raved at God.  Typical grief responses.  I've walked into the ICU room on one day and been so encouraged by what I'd see only to go back another time and think something else.  Exhausted, numb, frustrated, comforted, loved, deeply aware of God's peace, angry at God . . . the roller coaster ride so many of us have been on when there's a crisis in our life.  

I wish I could say that my response to all this has been to fall into God's arms, to reach for my Bible and sit in my special chair to hear from the Lord and be in his presence.  But I've been so much on some auto-pilot way of functioning that it seems all I can do is go to the hospital and try to function around the house and take care of 3 dogs.  And have a meltdown now and then.  But my sweet Lord has been so very near and present even when I felt nothing of his presence.  I've seen him in the faces of the people that have showed up, called, texted, prayed; in the face of my sister who has listened to me go on and on about how hard this is and has shown up to bring me a meal, take care of the dogs and let me rest; in the face of my son who has flown home to help out; and I've felt his peace break through my tears and rants and calm me in the midst of this storm.

So many times, I've exhorted others on the importance of Christian community:  "There's no such thing as a Lone Ranger Christian."  My relationship with the Lord is so incredibly, deeply personal and intimate; and it's so incredibly about my community and how the love of Jesus shines forth through these dear people God has placed in my life.  My son, who is a "baby" Christian of a little more than 3 months has encouraged my 30+ years of walking with the Lord with his reminders of God's sovereignty.  My friends and family have rallied round in ways that I'll never forget.

The storm is still going on but the waves are calmer, my meltdowns have stopped (for now); I'm still moving one day at the time but am feeling myself emerge out of a dense fog more aware of God's hand at work in the life of my husband and in my life.  "The Power of Prayer" is the banner that should be hanging over that bed in ICU; in the heavenly realms, I suspect that it is.  The nurses are calling Jerry, "Mr. Miracle".  And, speaking of those nurses, I hope there is a special mansion in heaven prepared for those dear women who have hugged me, celebrated with us, prayed for Jerry and encouraged all of us.

In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” 

(John 16:33)

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. (John 14:27)