Taking Heart In the Face of Fear

 The memory I want to share now is how overwhelmed I was with fear right before Darin had surgery to stabilize his burst vertebra.  So the spinal cord is kind of a big deal (insert smiley face) and there were bone fragments that were pressing on his spinal cord which had caused the injury.  It was important that the fragments be removed and the vertebra be reconstructed surgically so that pressure could be taken off the spinal cord and further injury might be prevented. The success of this surgery could make the difference as to whether Darin would have a chance to walk again in this life.

The surgery was estimated to take about seven hours.  As you can imagine, it would require a great deal of skill and precision.  To give you an idea of how intense the surgery was, here is a picture of his x-ray after the surgery (spoiler alert: the surgery was successful and went according to plan):

I felt so nervous going into it, I wanted to throw up.  The night before his surgery I was at home and tried everything I could to calm my soul.  I prayed, read scripture, had a glass of wine, talked to caring friends.  But by about 2:00 AM I realized that I was not going to be able to sleep and was too restless to stay at home.  So with my parents-in-law at my house with the kids, I drove to the hospital. When I arrived, I checked on Darin and he was deeply sleeping so I woke up our friend Matt who was the "nightwatchman" at the time and did what any other woman in my shoes would do at that moment: I ugly cried.  Matt wiped the sleep out of his eyes and placed a caring hand on my shoulder and prayed for Darin and for me.  The ugly crying continued, but after Matt finished praying, I was able to breathe, take heart and receive some stability.

Tonight I am remembering how Jesus spent a good deal of time with his disciples in between his entry into Jerusalem and his arrest.  John 13:1 says:

"Now before the Feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end."

First of all, can I just stop and absorb the words, "he loved them to the end"?  What a simple, beautiful, powerful statement about his love for "his own."  Reading on in John chapters 13-18 we see Jesus wash his disciples' feet and then give him his parting words of caution, instruction, prophecy and comfort. Towards the end of his parting words, he states plainly in 16:33 that they would be guaranteed troubles, suffering and sorrow.  But he offers hope:

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

He then concludes in prayer calling upon the Heavenly Father to strengthen them, protect them and work wonders through them.  And then we come to another statement in 17:20 that makes all the difference for us today:

"I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they may also be in us..."

He was not only addressing and praying for those disciples present with him in that time.  He was praying for those who were yet to come.  And I realize that is me!  That is Darin!  That is everyone who has since trusted on the name of Jesus for their forgiveness and redemption. And he is loving us to the end, and imploring us to take heart when we are afraid and to remember that He has overcome the world and the tribulations in it.

xoxo,

Moments of Loneliness

We were a couple of days into Darin's hospitalization  By that point I was spending my nights at home, but didn't feel comfortable having Darin in the hospital overnight without a friend or family member present. The doctors and nurses were amazing and I trusted them. But his loneliness and confusion was severe and he needed a companion present in the darkness of the nighttime and early morning hours.

Thus the team of "night watchmen" was assembled.  We gathered a group of men who were like brothers to us.  They took shifts (along with Darin's parents and siblings) staying with Darin through the night and early morning hours until I could arrive again. They prayed, read the Bible aloud, and spoke reassuring words to him when he woke up.  They were so amazing and I will never forget their goodness to us.  It wasn't always easy to coordinate these night shift schedules though, and I remember one time, there was a gap in the very early morning in between the "watchman" who had the final shift and the time that I was able to arrive at the hospital.  I felt uneasy about it. but there just wasn't a way to get around it in this situation.  There were going to be a few hours that Darin would be alone.

I could never forget what I encountered when I made my way to his room that next morning.  He was wide eyed and he grasped my hand. He described the feeling of utter loneliness and helplessness he felt in those last few hours. I had never seen him in that type of distress. And I despised myself in that moment.  How could I have left him there alone?  I eventually accepted that I was just one person, and I could not be everything that Darin needed, no matter how much I tried.  

Now as I revisit that memory while also focusing my heart and mind on the Biblical narratives of the Holy Week, I remember that Jesus spent an entire night in utter loneliness and anguish in Gethsemane.  He desired the prayerful presence of his closest disciples in His time of sorrow, but they didn't come through for him. (see Matthew 26: 36-46 for the whole story).  

I have always cherished the words in Hebrews 4:14-15:

"Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession.  For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses. but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin."

But when I have the opportunity such as this to really see and believe that there is not a human sorrow that Jesus has not himself endured for our sake, I am stunned.  Jesus not only proved himself as the only One who COULD be everything that mankind needs, but he also subjected himself to the pain of being disappointed by the limitations of this world and the people in it.

I still shudder at the memory of Darin's pain and loneliness on that difficult morning.  At the same time, I can embrace that memory as a moment that I believe was designed by our Heavenly Father to bring Darin into a closer fellowship with his Savior.

xoxo,

The Only Thing That Feels Normal

The moment I was brought back from the waiting room in the ER to see Darin for the first time since we'd arrived, I lacked confidence that there was anything I could do to comfort or help him.  I was afraid to touch him, as if I would cause more damage in doing so.  He was conscious and answered my questions, but the intensity of his pain and then the strength of his pain meds kept us from really conversing.  Pastor Scott encouraged me to pray for him out loud when I was at a loss of what to do for him, and I did, but I struggled to see my efforts as amounting to anything of value.

Later that night, Darin was transferred to the ICU and I only felt more reluctant and lacking in confidence to offer anything.  I wanted to support him, but IVs, monitors, beeping machines and the hustle and bustle of medical staff all seemed beckon me into the background.

I spent the first night in the hospital, but soon realized that I would need to stay at home for the overnights thereafter,  We had family members and willing friends to stay with him during the long nights ahead (more on that later) but our children needed the presence of their mother at night and I needed to try to be somewhat rested for spending my days at the hospital.  I slept in our guestroom at home.  I just couldn't handle being in OUR bed without him.  Sleep was hard to come by and was often interrupted by anxiety attacks. I missed him terribly. I wished he could hold me.

I was put in touch early on with another woman whose husband experienced a spinal cord injury a few years back and is now living with paraplegia.  We started to connect through phone calls and texts.  An early message from her read:

 "Keep your chin up.  He's still with you and that's what is important. He still has arms to hold you and the kids."

Her words were so reassuring.  Getting to a place where he could hold me again seemed pretty far off but eventually, after he'd been on the rehab floor for awhile I was able to climb onto his hospital bed and squeeze in next to him every so often.  One of those times he said to me:

"Holding you is the only thing that feels normal to me right now."

Even though I had gained more confidence to support him, encourage him and advocate for him long before that moment, I realized something very important right then. It was not what I did for him that made the biggest difference.  I wasn't going to let him down or mess things up if I didn't always know the "right way" to react in moments of crisis.  I was giving him a gift simply by letting him hold me. I was the only thing that "felt normal" when everything else had changed.

We, like every couple, have had our struggles in marriage. We have had times where we felt like we just kept dealing with the same "issues" over and over and over again.  Every so often it has seemed like a losing battle.  Forgive the cliche but the fiery trials we have been facing during the past couple months have truly burned away the petty things and revealed just how much victory God has actually given us.  Victory might not have always "felt" like what we wanted it to through the years.  But now I believe that victory is "holding on" even when it is hard.  And now, it is literally the best gift we can give to each other.

xoxo,

Sometimes Fear Traps Us in a Dungeon

Darin had recently been transferred out of the ICU.  It had been over a week since Lucy and Collin saw their daddy whisked away on a fire truck and in a couple of days they would see him for the first time since the accident.  It was a daunting task, but I knew I needed to start explaining to them that their daddy's injury would mean permanent changes for him and all of us. I showed them a picture of their daddy immobilized in the ICU complete with an NG tube, all kinds of monitors, and a picc line.  I told them that when he came home, he would be in a wheel chair and probably wouldn't be able to walk yet (if ever). I told them that no one but God knew when he would be able to come home from the hospital.  For a five and seven-year-old, it already seemed like an eternity since they'd seen him.  I was not prepared for all the questions that would come from them, particularly from Lucy, when I gave them this information.  Here's a sampling from one of our conversations:

"How will Daddy go potty when he gets home?"

"Well. I don't know yet.  But the doctors and nurses will teach him how to go potty."

"How will he get his pajamas on?"

"Well, I will help him!"

"But are you strong enough?"

"Well, I don't know! But I hope so."

I ended up being grateful for the questions, because they helped me to systematically confront many of the disorganized  fears that were floating around in my brain. Our family has faced a lot of fears, starting the moment the accident occurred, and new ones have popped up each day ever since. 

Two days after the accident-the day before Darin's surgery-I was pretty shaky with fear.  I could best describe it as the feeling you have when you are about to throw up.  You aren't looking forward to it, but you know that you will probably feel better when it is all done so you wish you could hasten it. On that day, I was talking to my sister on the phone and she told me that her youngest daughter, my 11-year-old niece, Grace, had written and illustrated a story for my kids that was intended to help them through this difficult time.  She hadn't put all the finishing touches on her artwork, but my sister promised to send me pictures of the story in a series of texts.  When I received them, the story took my breath away.  It turned out to be the very thing I needed to get through that day:

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess named Lucy.  There was also a very strong and courageous knight named Collin"

"One day, Collin was on his way home from outsmarting a giant and conquering a dragon and he heard the beautiful voice of a girl singing a beautiful song. He thought, 'Oh my, that must be Princess Lucy!  I must go and see her!' But there was one problem. He couldn't find where she was."

" 'Hmmm,' he thought, 'How will I be able to know where Princess Lucy is? Ooh! Maybe I should call her name and she will answer me!' He cupped his hands around his mouth and called, 'Oh Lucy!  Where are you?!' Then he heard a faint, 'Down here, strong and mighty Collin, the monster has put me in a dungeon!' "

" 'What monster? Is it a dragon? I'm good at fighting dragons!' Collin said. 'No,'  Lucy said, 'It's a very bad monster, his name is Fear. You have to conquer it!' Lucy was shaking, just thinking of his name. 'Don't worry, I will,' Collin said.  Then, Fear started coming out."

" 'He's (gulp) bigger than I thought,' Collin said.  Then Lucy whispered, 'Pray! Think something like God is with me, God is with me! It will help!'  Collin started to slowly walk toward Fear, thinking, 'God is with me, God is with me!' Fear felt really confused, because Collin wasn't scared."

"Fear started backing away while Collin was stepping forward.  Then Collin smiled.  He stopped, he looked fear right in the eye and yelled at the top of his lungs, 'I...AM...A...STEVENSON!!'  Fear looked terrified. Then, in a sudden burst, he disappeared."

" 'We conquered the fear! We conquered the fear!  Hooray!' Lucy and Collin shouted with delight. And ever since that day, when Collin conquered the fear, Lucy and Collin and the whole kingdom lived happily ever after.  The End."

 

I wonder if my sweet niece had any idea the gift she gave our entire family when she wrote and shared this story with her cousins.  For me, personally, I have been given a way to articulate my experiences ever since Darin fell off that ladder:  Sometimes, the "very bad monster named Fear"  has trapped me in a dungeon. Things seem complicated in those moments.  But the solution for me, in Christ Jesus is simple:   Pray. Say "God is with me!" Remember who I am in Him, and take the first few steps in facing my fears.

Does this story touch you too? If you know of anyone, big or little, who could use some encouraging words about facing fear, I hope you will share it with them. I would love for Grace to know how much impact her story has on others, so if you or someone you know is ever touched by it, please let me know so I can pass it along to her.

By the way: please don't copy, or redistribute Grace's story, or present it as your own.  If you share with others, I ask that do so by simply sharing this blog post as is!

xoxo,