Redemption

“If God is so powerful, why doesn't he ….?” I would  guess that each of us has either heard this, said this, or felt this, at some point in our life. The context is usually some sad or terrible circumstance that left the one asking feeling broken and hurt.

I would like to share a story of redemption. I do not pretend that my one story universally proves a point--although I do believe that God's redemptive power is indeed universally possible. When he doesn't remove the circumstance, he can redeem the pain.

My mother died. She lived with us for 7 years. Health up and down, but mostly down and declining. Usually the decline was slow, but she would occasionally have a big drop and then that would become the new normal until the next drop. The last six months she was quite ill, the last four months, on hospice.

5 weeks to the day after mom left, the mother of my dear friend and neighbor went to heaven as well. I was honored to be a part of those final days and hours.
________________________

I have a disturbing fluency in skills no one wants to know.
Rolling, turning, changing, adjusting pillows, crushing pills, filling syringes.
Taking minutes to dispense just a few drops, carefully, so as not to choke the throat of one who can no longer swallow.
Swabbing the dry mouth, relieving the cracked lips.
Setting the mood of the room, flowers, music, light levels, even scents.
Tone of voice, gentle touch, stroking the hair. Enough to let you know I'm here, but not enough to disturb or overwhelm.

The relationship with death. It is our enemy, but it is inevitable.
Can I come to a truce?
I cannot control the fact that it comes, but I can comfort how it takes you.
I will not let you feel fear, or pain, or loneliness, although, we all know that the last step you must indeed take alone.
At least alone from my perspective. I pray not from yours.
Loved ones, angels, God himself? Surely someone is there to take your hand in the moment I must let go. Anything else would be too cruel.

But now what? When life has revolved around care for so long, what does one do with these accumulated proficiencies, this unwanted expertise?

I have my family, they need me, but a different part of me. This part, with its particular set of skills, feels useless now, vestigial.

But then comes a call, “I need help, I cannot.”
It is ok dear friend, because I can.
I step up and say, “wait, I know this one!”
I will hold her, touch her, love her like my own. Stroke her brow, whisper endearments.
With practiced ease, I perform the tasks so you are free to hold her hand.

And in this way, I find redemption.
My pain becomes a blessing.
My grief is assuaged.

I have a lifetime's worth of skill, but only one mother to spend it on.
God in his wisdom, in his grace, mercifully gave me another.

Rock Hard Hamburger

There is no way to describe the complete events of the past two and a half weeks.  Suffice it to say that my Mom (who lives with us) was diagnosed two and a half weeks ago with a rare and seriously aggressive form of cancer. Less than a week after diagnosis, she went through major surgery. Next was 6 days in the hospital and then transferred to a skilled nursing facility for physical therapy.
After four days in the rehab facility, I removed her due to negligence and poor care. I can't say too much about it all because of pending state investigation, but by the time I got her home last night I was shaking and wrung out.

3+ hours of facing down intimidation and belligerence from the facility staff, with all my four kids there.  Jonny (3 year old) shut his hand in the door once--much screaming, then a while later hit his face so hard he got a nosebleed.
I don't know if I've ever been so emotionally railroaded as I was during this encounter.  One tiny example is that the facility director came in and was so understanding, talked about how much she understood and supported this decision, even broke into tears. Then 10 minutes later was cutting and derogatory, then a while after that was back to compassionate and apologetic.  I finally told her to please stop the games and just do her job which is to try and keep me from leaving, and I'll do my job which is to care for my mom. A whole parade of people, some playing good cop, some playing bad cop, marching through to badger me.

The closest I can describe how I felt last night is to say that I was "emotional hamburger."  Completely and utterly ground up and spit out. Shaking, weak, not an ounce of form or substance left. Attacked on both fronts; guilt for putting my mom into such a place in the first place, and then the added strain of having all my kids there during this whole fiasco.  The little ones were bored, the big ones understood enough to know that people were mad and trying to not let us bring their grandmother home and they were frightened.

And yet, somehow, with a strength that was not mine,  I did it. I faced down the nurses, the directors, the slick doctor (who has mastered double talk and lies at a level I'd previously never seen), and I had the presence of mind to attach my own notes to records, to number pages, to write on their official forms that my notes should be attached and my signature was invalid without the additional attached pages.
It's not like I have previously planned out how to break my mother out of a medical facility, but the presence of mind was supernatural.
I'm afraid that my words are failing me today and I may not be communicating correctly, so let me say again, this was not me.  I was emotionally distraught, physically shaking, but under the hamburger of me, was the Rock of the Lord.  Calmness, clarity of thought, persistence... all came flowing in from above.

I have been surrounded and supported by prayer since the first day that I posted about the cancer diagnosis. I felt the love and care of others and the strength from God since day one, but yesterday afternoon was a whole new thing.

An interesting (to me at least) thing is the contrast between the care that mom has received from all other medical personnel involved. I've been praising God for the utmost high standard of care she has gotten from her surgeon, and from the hospital staff. I have been amazed and humbled by the personal level of care she has gotten from her other physicians not directly involved with the cancer treatment but with her other medical issues.  For instance, her Nephrologist came in to the hospital personally, EVERY day to monitor her kidneys and blood pressure problems.  So to come from such an amazingly high quality of care to outright incompetence and negligence was disturbing and overwhelming.
But here's the thing, even with everything that was wrong, she did not come to actual harm (although I truly believe she could have/would have had we not been there every day for hours at a time to monitor things).   I think that we have now experienced both the best AND worst care scenarios and I have seen that God was there during both sets of circumstances.  How beautiful is that?!  How comforting! What an assurance.

Throughout it all, I've been surrounded by loving friends, by family, by my sister sharing the load of care, by my amazing husband taking over everything at home. Yesterday though, I was on my own. My sister was five hours away, I didn't have any friends phone numbers with me, I tried calling mom's other doctors for guidance and although I have always been able to reach them, yesterday I couldn't get anyone.
It was just me.
And I experienced the reality that when it's down to just me, and I don't have anyone else to help, God is there; solid, sure, steadfast.

I needed that, I'm amazed, and I'm thankful. 

Can a Mother Forget Her Baby?

This week has been filled with bits of news that have simply broken my mommy-heart. 

The young son of friends in Florida was in a freak household accident that resulted in gravely life-threatening skull fratures.  For many hours he was hanging by a thread between life and death, there has been a roller coaster ride of improvements and setbacks, and though we are trusting for it,  there is a long way to go for full recovery. 

I heard the heartbreaking news that the toddler of a friend in North Carolina has gone to be held in the arms Jesus, forever safe now in the hands that formed him.  He was born very ill and the fact that he lived until almost 3 years is amazing in itself.  Although I would never wish him away from the perfect life he now has, my heart aches and aches for my friends who are experiencing this loss.

Another friend is going through the valley of watching her child suffer extreme physical pain and knowing that there is really nothing she can do to ease it.  So many decsions to be made as the next two years of a long, slow, and painful recovery looms ahead. Oh how she longs to remove that pain and place it on herself!

Last night I got word that friends in Illinois who were joyfully anticipating the birth of their 4th child have gone from excitement to terror.  She is only 24 weeks along and for some reason, the baby is trying to come now.  Dialation, contractions, and water breaking; and now the moment by moment wait to see if all the powers of medicine can deny the body's urge to give birth has given way to the moment by moment wait to see what this tiny body can withstand here on the outside.

Dear Lord, what is going on?  All of these families love you and serve you.  Why do  these things happen to your people?    And what seems most unfair is that they are all children!

The thing I have learned since becoming a mother is that the one sure way to pierce the heart of a parent to to have harm done to their child.  Seeing your child hurt takes the reaction beyond mere sympathy or an emotional response and turns it quite literally into a gut-wrenching, physical pain.  

I can truly say that my understanding of love deepened a hundred-fold when I had children.  

I am not saying that the love for parents, for siblings, or even for spouse is somehow less, but it is certainly different. 

As a mother I can truly say that I would lay down my life for one of my children!

And yet, that is exactly what God did for us. How deep the Father's love for us!  God calls himself our father over and over in the scripture, for he truly is our leader and protector. He also  likens his love for us to that of a mother, nurturing, kind, and life-giving. 

 In Isaiah 49 God is telling the prophet how he will raise his people up. How he will feed them and guide then and how he has compassion on his afflicted ones.   The prophet replies and says that "The Lord has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me." 

To which God utters some of the most beautiful promises in scripture, Isaiah 49:15-16,"

“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast 

   and have no compassion on the child she has borne? 

Though she may forget, 

   I will not forget you! 

16 See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; 

   your walls are ever before me. 

Oh what comfort I find here!  As much as we humanly love our children and ache for them, the Lord's covering of love over us is even more, deeper, stronger, everlasting, eternal, and oh, how much more potent!  For though we parents long to take our childrens hurts onto us, though we would be willing to do anything to remove their pain, we are, in our human state, helpless to do very much at all.  Would it be wrong to say that the depth of our pain during these times can serve as a reminder of how much God cares as well?  

God is not bound by our frailties, we serve an amazing God, the one who spoke our entire universe into being is the same  one who wept at the loss of his friend (John 11:35).

The rest of Isaiah 49 talks about how the Lord will cause Kings and Queens to be foster parents and nurse-maids to our children when our own resources aren't enough. 

God will indeed prove himself and show us

"Then you will know that I am the LORD; 

   those who hope in me will not be disappointed.” Isaiah 49:23b