Monthly Archives: April 2012

Surgery No 5

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My whole life I have been enamored with poetry as a medium to express my feelings and emotions.  This poem was meant to be healing to me – to convey exactly how I was feeling.  Sadly the hurry up of Sawyer’s surgery brought our family right back to the night of 2/19/08 because we just weren’t prepared.  We have had to work our way out of that fog, and just be together as a family (even in stuff that seems little to others). It doesn’t to us, because it was once again a reminder of how big of a hole we experience every day.  But as you read this all the way through, I hope that you too are reminded of how BIG our God is to fill that hole right on up with His love!  A special thank you to those that see us working on that fog lifting and continue to cheer us on.  Sawyer is doing fabulously and that makes us all feel well again!

Surgery No. 5

We don’t really sleep.

Tossing and turning, fitfully checking the clock to make sure we are up in time.

We quit pretending and get up even before the alarm clocks buzzes.

                                                                                    My child cannot eat so neither will I.

We get ready as best we can (when your suitcase is a small purse and school folder containing your homework).

Deep inside we dream that it wasn’t like this.

We walk through cold, skyway glassed corridors.  We watch as the rest of the world goes on . . . moves forward while we are forced to go back and relive once again the terrible tragedy that befell our family.

We make small talk trying to overcome our nervousness.

We walk – still a part of the city – not yet a part of the world of doctors, surgeries, nurses, and staff.

Eventually, we know we’ve crossed that invisible boundary – not because of any sign that we proclaims we are here. No, we know that smell.  The sterile, clinical smell that tells us we have arrived at our holding spot until they are ready for him.

We know this road. Hurry up and wait.  Wait to be asked the same questions over and over again.  We know it is for his safety, but after a while, it feels like an assault on our honesty, our integrity, our intelligence.

It is almost time to start – which is a polite cue that the Momma has to go now.  We do what we always do.  We pray, but somehow this time it is different.  As we pray, we are reminded of the choice that this young man, my son, has made about his future.

We pray for the usual things peace, guidance, and wisdom for the surgeon, safety during the procedure, healing, and fast recoveries.

But somehow a rush of words come bubbling out . . from the boy soon to be a man and from the momma who loves him with every fiber in her being. 

 

Lord show us how you are going to use this one day for Your Glory when this child grows up to work for you.

Tears freely flow from me as I try to hold it together.  Arms of strength offer comfort from the one who needs the surgery to the one who has to wait and watch and to endure that loss of childhood once again for her son.  What love this child holds!

Alone . . . for what seems like eternity. Alone not because I want to be, but simply because of the urgency that surgery no. 5 required.  Alone because my husband needed to go home and comfort the girls. Alone – because we didn’t really have enough time to ask anyone to be here with us.  Alone because my boy is floors below in a surgical room.

I sit.

I wait.

Over time (lots of time), I grow cold. Why are hospital waiting rooms so cold? Why didn’t I bring a sweatshirt?  This is March in Minnesota after all.

The first pangs of hunger appear.  I am going to hold out.  Maybe this will really go as fast they said it would.

It didn’t.

I wait.

I sit.

Then it starts to take hold of me.  I feel it bubbling up from heart to my head.

I want to run, but I don’t dare leave – he might need me.

I want to hit something – though I have never done that in my life.

I want to scream – but polite people don’t do that in waiting rooms.

I want to stop it – yet it comes anyway like a freight train pounding through my body.

The MAD and all its choking tentacles arrive and begin to strangle me.

Here we are again, back to that horrible February day.  I’M MAD.

Someone else’s actions put us here. I’M MAD.

He’s going to hurt again. I’M MAD.

He will have to give up things he loves. I’M MAD.

Our family will have to adjust once again. I’M MAD.

All the people who tell us that he is perfectly fine, that’s there is nothing wrong with him. I’M MAD.

What gives them the right to judge us?  Are they his doctors? Do they think world renown hospitals do things at my command? I’M MAD.

Emotions

Anger and fury

I wrestle internally.

I fight to beat back the mad.

I do the only thing that makes sense to me.  I pray.

God doesn’t answer in the way I expect. I want peace, but all I get is overwhelming hunger.  A Hunger that cannot wait and forces me to leave my not-so-cozy waiting room corner.

I look at the device that tells you all the things going on the bowels below.

Not even in recovery yet.

I decide I must get something to eat. NOW!

The mad inside me is my marching cadence.

I make swift steps to the cafeteria.

That all-consuming hunger, now doesn’t seem as important as all I think I can keep down is a nibble and a swallow.

Slow down.  I will myself to walk slowly up from the belly of the clinic.  I emerge at one of my favorite spots.  A soothing spot.  A location where some gentle soul speaks to mine with songs filled with melodic notes.  Schubert. Bach. Beethoven. Liszt.  Not today – their music isn’t here today.

What is here instead is familiar. It is comforting. It is soothing. It transports me back to little white churches in Georgia and Alabama.  It wraps me up in all the things that I know to be good and pure and safe.

Definitely safe.  Where mad doesn’t exist. Only love.

Tears begin to stream down on my muffin.

I bobble my juice to wipe my eyes.

The mad starts to seep out of my body as my voice finds a way to express itself.

Unashamedly, I sing even though I don’t think polite people do that in public places.

I know this song.  God has answered – albeit not in the way I expected.

God answered in the words of Chisholm and notes of Runyan.

Great is thy faithfulness.  Great is thy faithfulness. Morning by morning, new mercies I see. (I am seeing the mercies right now, taking away the mad.)  All I have needed Thy hand hath provided.  (You have provided all of this around me to take care of my son).  Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.

I emerge, like the butterfly from the chrysalis.

I am better than I was before.

I flit back, now lighter, to the waiting spot.

I arrive just in time to see him come back to our starting place.

The first smile flashes across his face.  Within moments that snappy sense of humor quips a joke with the nurses.

It’s then that I know that we are going to be okay.

I know for certain because I laugh – God’s healing balm on my soul. 

New mercies I see!

Healing – In God’s Timing

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Healing . . . it is something that my family has been forced to know intimately over the last four years.  After losing one son and having two of my other children injured in one incident, we have been healing physically, emotionally, and spiritually as we continue on our journey.  When I have shared Reed’s story at women’s conferences, I put together a top ten list of healing.  Two items on that list are looking to God when everything else seems impossible and allowing others to be the hands and feet of Christ to help you meet your needs, sometimes even the most basic ones.

But the one I want to focus on today is the one that God most prevalently reminded me just two weeks ago . . . healing comes in small increments on God’s timing.  Just as physical healing doesn’t often happen over night, neither does healing of the heart and soul.

Recently my son needed yet another surgery to deal with injuries suffered on the bus crash.  This would be his fifth surgery in four short years.  Surprisingly, we knew it was coming, but we didn’t realize the urgency.  At a routine check-up, the surgery was scheduled for the next morning and we would need to stay at Mayo for 3 days.  (My suitcase was a purse and Sawyer’s was his school backpack.)  Needless to say it was an adventure!

While Sawyer was in surgery, I had to fight hard to hold down “the mad”.  Someone else did this to my son . . . he was going to miss out on his golf season . . . here we go again with surgery, bills, hassles, and struggles.  My prayer was, “God, take away the mad.  Help me to see how you are going to use this in Sawyer’s life to bring you glory.”

The answer didn’t immediately come, and after waiting for 4 hours, I was cold (why are hospitals so chilly?) and hungry.  So I ventured down to the cafe in the main Mayo building. As I emerged from the underground tunnel to the area where people play the piano, God provided his answer.  Instead of the typical classical music (which I love), the pianist was playing, “Great is thy faithfulness!”

With tears streaming into my muffin, God reminded me that he was very much present in that moment and that healing was coming if . . . if only I clung to Him and allowed His timing to be my answer.  Boldly and unashamedly, I belted out the words, “All I have needed thy Hand has provided!”  That includes the right measure of healing in the exactly precise time . . . for surgical wounds, for broken bodies, and for wounded hearts.

Easter Countdown #4 – A childlike faith

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I tell you the truth, you must accept the kingdom of God as if you were a child, or you will never enter it. Luke 18:17 NCV

In the past week, I have had basically the same conversation with two very different individuals.  One was a sweet 12-year-old girl that I know, and the other was my equally as sweet 82-year-old grandmother, affectionately known as Nanny.  The conversation was about Easter traditions and favorite activities.  What struck me was the fact that both shared the exact same heart.

When I asked my 6th grade friend what her favorite part of Easter was, she proclaimed enthusiastically, “The egg hunt!”.  She then went on to elaborate that she loves to wake up with wide-eyed wonder to find baskets and get ready for church.  She shared with me that she was dismayed that many of her friends and classmates didn’t share her passion for simply enjoying the moment.  She didn’t understand why everyone was in a hurry to grow up so fast, and in her words “be too cool for Easter”.  Her words really touched me, because 30 years ago, I would have been that little girl. 

Fast forward a couple days to when I phoned my Nanny, she asked what we were doing this week.  I replied that we were preparing for Easter.  We reminisced about the last Easter we spent together and dyeing eggs with my kids.  (The one thing she failed to mention is her passion for eggs means there better be enough for her to dye as many as everybody else.)  We laughed about all the fun memories we had with egg-dyeing over the years.  Within seconds, she announced, “Even though, I’m goin’ be by myself this year, I’m goin’ to the store and get me a dozen eggs.  And yes sir, I am goin’ dye each one of them – even if I throw ‘em out later.”  I just had to smile, because 40 years from now, I want to be that girl.  This Southern lady who is comfortable and confident in who she is that she doesn’t mind doing something that her peers think childish or a waste of time – seeing as she has no one to share the joy with her this year.

Today, the Easter season is that transportable moment for me.  I wake up dreaming of walking to that tomb only to discover my Jesus isn’t there.  He conquered death and proved gloriously that he was and is and is to come, exactly who He said he was.  The rebirth of Spring only adds to my excitement as I daily count how many tulips have popped open, which area of grass is prospering, what garden plants are returning, and which trees are budding.  I am carried by my imagination to Easters past of white patent leather shoes, little white gloves and Easter bonnets, every time this season comes to call.  Oh and the hymns, I get almost giddy thinking about singing, “Because He lives”.  I love it!

Wouldn’t it be amazing if we looked at each new day and each new experience through the eyes of my two incredibly amazing friends?  I believe that is exactly what we are asked to do in both Mark and Luke.  We need to be able to lose our jaded-ness and grown-up tendencies, and submit to the childlike wonder and awe that each creation and each situation was given to us by God.  Childlike faith lets us not be too big for ourselves and our ideas – like my little friend who wanted to enjoy Easter.  Childlike faith lets you act with abandon on occasion to do something that brings you joy – just like my Nanny.  Childlike faith lets you realize that God the father, who loves you very much, delights in seeing you happy.

Take-away:  What is something that you can do – just for you – in the next couple days that would bring you to childlike joy?  As much as I love Easter, I have a few other things that I love that bring me right back to childhood no matter where I am.  Even if you can’t act on childlike joy immediately, make a list of those things.  Here are a few of mine: running through the sprinklers, lying on the grass watching the stars, drinking from the garden hose, blowing bubbles, collecting clams on the beach, digging in soil to plant anything,  listening for the ice cream truck, and my all time favorite – catching lightning bugs in jars.  If you are bold (or should I say childlike enough), please post a couple of yours – I would love to know what brings you joy!

Easter Countdown #3 – One special Easter basket

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There are times that I look at my children and think how incredibly lucky I am to have them as a part of my life.  At times, the life lessons learned from them is greater than anything I have learned from anyone else.  The Easter of 2008 is one such time.

Many people know of this incredible date, March 19, 2008, because of the cardinal that appeared when we, more specifically Sawyer, needed him more than anything.  This story made it around the world because it was shared over and over by our friends. What most people don’t know is another smaller event that occurred on the same day.

A few days prior, Sawyer had been cleared to take a few steps with a walker.  It had been one month since he had been able to be on his feet, and that small step of independence seemed liked a key to freedom.  Unfortunately, one missed step happened and Sawyer slipped, fell, and broke the heads off of two of the screws holding his leg together.  Another trip to the emergency room and that is where the smaller event took place.

The E.R. nurse, we later discovered, was the sister of the man who was also involved in the bus crash.  Our school bus fell on top of his pick-up.  We knew he, too, had been hurt very badly.  Sawyer took the time, despite excruciating pain to inquire as to how the gentleman was doing.  The report was not good.  He was feeling very low – wishing he could have done more to help.

That was all it took.  The seed was planted.  For days, Sawyer begged to go to the store to get something without ever really telling us what it was he desired so intently.  Because it was winter in Minnesota and not very easy to maneuver in a wheelchair, we stalled.  Eventually, his insistence won out, and off to the store, he and his dad went.

The thing he just had to have was puzzling to us.  He bought a tiny Easter basket, added a few small token gifts, and later, personally added hand-written a note.  Yes, he wanted to send a special message to the gentleman saying he didn’t blame him for anything that happened and that he wanted the man to know he was thinking of him and praying for him.  Tears of amazement mixed with pride streamed down our faces.

If memory serves me correctly, he talked his Uncle Sheldon into delivering that basket with no expectation of anything in return.  Rather simply, his desire was to do something nice when there was very little of anything else that he could do anywhere – at all.

Even though the gift was not meant to be reciprocated; we did learn that Sawyer’s new friend kept that basket right by his bed as long as he was at the care facility where he recuperated.  It wasn’t allowed to be moved or removed.  Learning that news helped Sawyer through many a dark night – knowing that he made a difference.

I still learn a lot from my kids, but I think this small act of love will be one of my most treasured Easter memories.

Take-away:  How often do we stop in the midst of our own storms to do something kind for someone else?  We are all capable of compassion, even when we are busy and overwhelmed.  More often than not, it isn’t the grandiose gestures, but the small things that really seem to get the most notice.  Jesus was BIG on small acts.  If we really think about it, other than believing in Him, there wasn’t anything he expected in return.  He loved and continues to love us with abandon.  The hands that were nailed to the cross also hold our names written across them.  Couldn’t we all be his hands and feet by doing acts of love even in small ways?  I truly believe that we can.

Easter Countdown #2 – Love God, Serve Others!

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On our grief journey, we have learned that one of the things most helpful to our family has been the reminder given by Paul in 2 Corinthians.  He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. 2 Cor 1:4 (NCV) We have been comforted by simple acts of kindness and love, and now, we are able to do the same for others.

I distinctly remember Easter 2008 when my best friend called and said, “You are getting out of the house this weekend.”  I hadn’t left my children’s side (other than school for them) since the bus crash.  So I wasn’t sure how I was going to physically leave, but deep down I knew I needed to do it.  She told me that she had boiled about a bazillion eggs and that she and her family were coming over to dye Easter eggs with the kids.  She knew how much traditions (including egg-dyeing) mean to us.  She also knew I had zero energy to pull that off.  The day came and with God’s help, I mustered the courage and sense of peace to leave my house and take a break.

I have spoken about how simple acts fueled my family through many dark hours.  This is the type of comfort that I think Paul was addressing when he reminded us that we need to give to others the same comfort we were given.

For our Easter countdown activity, our family wanted to remember exactly how Jesus lived.  Throughout his life, he embodied our family’s mission statement: Love God, Serve Others!  It’s really that simple! In everything Jesus did, he humbled himself . . . fully God, yet fully human . . . to love on others, often the ones most neglected by others.  He fed, he nurtured, he wept,  he healed, he dried tears, he washed feet, . . never thinking of himself first, yet always knowing the precise amount of comfort to proffer.

As a family, we are often reminded of the love we felt when someone comforted us.  With all that in mind, we ventured off to the dollar store to purchase items for miniature baskets for a dear group of friends who we want to love on this week.  Sadly they were out of tiny baskets, but we found lovely Easter themed gift bags.

After returning home with our supplies in hand, we had supper and once again, got to work.  This time, we created an assembly line to stuff Easter grass, a tiny decoration, and chocolate bunny in our bags.  The whole time we talked about our friends and the special stories we have cherished from past times spent together.

We thought hard on who we could bless this week.  It didn’t take us long to decide, and of course, we had to the do the work for Huck, because he doesn’t have thumbs.  Our recipients will be Huck’s buddies at the nursing home that he visits.  The love that we receive from each resident pales in comparison to the joyful dog energy and companionship that we bring to them.  I think that Cloie’s card sums up what each of the residents mean to our family.

Through the visits our family has made to the nursing home, our children’s minds and hearts have been etched not to  fear the elderly, but instead see each one as a friend just waiting to be treasured.  Our only wish is that the love in those tiny packages carries as long as the love and memories that went into making them! If so, then Paul’s reminder will come true as the circle of love and comfort will continue to envelope others in our path!

Take-away: Is there someone in your circle of influence that could use a blessing this week?  Could you be the hands and feet of Jesus by serving someone else in love?  This doesn’t have to be costly, as a card or note can be a great pick me up!  If you are a baker, make a little extra of something yummy and share that.  Heaven is the limit on boundless love!

Idealism update: Please note how cluttered the rest of the room was while we worked on our masterpieces. 🙂  Despite what we all tell ourselves, you don’t have to have it all together to love on someone else!

Easter Countdown – Part 1 “Johnathan has a starring role”

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Over the next few days, I am planning a countdown to my most favorite holiday.  Each and every year, I stand in awe of what actually took place on that hill almost two thousand years ago.  At church, our pastor has a sermon series on the the last words/phrases of Christ.  It has been amazing and inspirational.  This a-typical weather has been a blessing too – as Easter symbolizes the rebirth of God’s creation in the physical world as well as the spiritual world.

Having grown up in the deep South, I am enamored with all things Easter.  My favorite tradition outside of church is the egg hunt.  I can still remember the annual egg hunt at the college president’s house where the eggs where hidden in the backyard, down the hill, for as far as my little eyes could see.

Since I recently read an article in Mary Jane’s farm about being an idealist, I realize now that I tend to romanticize my Southern upbringing as a place where all good things happen like a perfect blend of  The Walton’s, Steel Magnolias, and just a pinch of sass from Designing Women and Fried Green Tomatoes.  So, I will confess to you all the part of the story that I often leave out. The eggs we hunted in that blazing Georgia sun, were not plastic ones . . . but yes, the real deal.

Part of that idealism comes from having a wonderful imagination and dogged persistence that this world can be a better place.  Sometimes that change for the better needs to start at home.  So that’s exactly what we did last night as a family.  We relished being together, by taking a pause from our crazy schedule.  We took time to create a little project that involved remembering what this week really means as Christians, spending time together and using one of our beloved outdoor friends.

I have wanted to do this project for years, but just never seemed to get organized in time to pull it off.  Once I saw that we were reclaiming our Sunday evening,  we managed to pull it off.  Our biggest problem was finding a rock to do the job.  I asked the kids if they knew if we had a rock about this big. (Imagine me holding my two hands together to form a circle.)  The response was swift. “Oh, I think Johnathan could work.” Wow! I had forgotten about him.

Johnathan is a “pet” rock that was actually a gift to Reed’s garden from Grandpa Phil and Grandma Rhoda.  Since his arrival he has had appearances in many practical jokes, play times, and sometimes family dinners.  Remember I stated that imagination is a big part of my (and subsequently my children’s) existence, so it didn’t faze me at all that there was a rock in the back yard with a big name.  And no, Johnathan isn’t the only inanimate object around here that has a name and personality.  (My kids will never have to worry about the definition of personification in school.)

I don’t know exactly who, but someone, dug Johnathan out from his winter hiding spot, and the fun began after supper.  We gathered pots, potting soil, grass seed, twigs, thread, and water.  What we created was a table sized Calvary garden.

Everyone participated.  Even though we know that Johnathan has no feelings, we all surged with pride when we realized what a big job he has this week.  What we didn’t expect was how much fun it was to just slow down and do something creative together while focusing on the symbolism of our little garden.

But isn’t that similar to our own faith journeys?  How many times do we hustle along, only to get stuck in a rut and then can’t figure out what to do?  More than a piece of granite that has very little connection to our lives, we have the Rock of Ages that can bolster us by providing hope . . . if only we turn to him.  Rather than a cold piece of stone, we have the one, true, LIVING God who cares about us and wants us to remember his name.  He longs for us to call on him.   I think deep down I know that is why I love Easter so much, because it is the time each year that I renew my strength by remembering . . . “On Christ, the solid rock, I stand!”

Idealism alert:  For anyone who thinks that this project went without a hitch, we will also confess that for a bit we only had two crosses, because Huckleberry (our dog) thought sticks in the house looked mighty tasty.  Of course, Sawyer soothed our dismayed emotions by explaining that Huck just thought that it was terrible how Jesus died and he didn’t want a reminder of it.

How to’s:

We used a shallow pot that the kids have for creating fairy and gnome gardens in the summer.  Fill the pot about 2/3 full of potting soil and place the smaller pot on it’s side.  Play around with the location because you want a good spot for the rock (Johnathan for us!) to be able to roll. Once you are set on location, add your stone.  Now add more potting soil over the smaller pot to create the hill.  Take 3 small twigs and break them to create crosses.  We used sewing thread to tie them together into cross shapes.  Secure them in the soil around your hill.  Next add grass seed.  Water liberally.  Water twice every day to encourage sprouting.  Good Friday seal your tomb.  Easter morning, roll the stone away.  He is Risen!