I have never been a parent, watching their child take his first steps. I wonder, though, if the feelings I have watching my Dad walking might be similar. I hold my breath as he reaches out to grip the walker, carefully positioning his feet in the unique way that works for him. Upon reaching that standing position without groans of pain or wobbles, he slowly proceeds to follow that frame of support as he heads to his destination.
His surgery, straightening his back, seemed almost too simple before we went in last Wednesday. Simple it was not. Removal of the wedge was just the beginning. In order to position the back in a more straight line, Dr. Simmons then broke the remaining part of his spine to align him. If Dad was writing this he would probably say, Yep, they took a wedge out and then broke my back.
Unashamedly, when he stands and walks, I cheer and encourage, take pictures, gape with my mouth wide open, and sometimes still tear up. He looks straighter, taller, and with a gaze that looks out, not down. I try to tell anyone that will listen that he has been curved my whole life, and that this is not some routine moment. Looking at my Dad, standing taller, is monumental and a dream come true!
Recovery, which really is learning how to work those degenerating hips to support this new straight back, is going to be a journey. It might be a long one. His next steps from the hospital room door are uncertain. Would a rehab facility be the best? Can Mom and I take care of things for him at home? We are certain that our trust in God to lead Dad through surgery is going to be the same trust in the same God who will lead him out of the hospital and down the road with his new perspective on life.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
One Day at a Time
My first glimpse of Dad after his surgery will be forever impressed in my mind and heart. From his head to his feet, he lay almost level. His gaze is now directed at the ceiling, so much so that he could not see the tv hanging from his wall. They had the equivalent of one and a half pillows under his head. Before, Dad had to build a mini mountain of pillows to prop him up in bed while he slept.
Extraordinary. Living miracle. An unimaginable vision. These are only a few words that I can use to attempt to describe him. He looks so long to us. I still cry each time I see him again. I just cannot get over how straight he looks.
A nurse came into the ICU room shortly after we were allowed into see him for the first time. She asked us how tall he was in a routine, mundane voice. We all stared at her. We had no idea the answer to her question. As our minds tried to answer that question, we stated what we knew.
He was 5' 10&1/2", forty years ago. He was barely 5' tall yesterday. We don't know how tall he is now.
We don't know today, but tomorrow we will see what height God has restored to him. We are pretty sure he will be taller than Mom, but shorter than Chad! :)
His breathing tube did not come out after surgery, so instead of sending him to recovery as was scheduled, he was put in surgical ICU. Breathing tubes, restricted visiting hours, staff that was still working to piece together his story made for a very unsettling evening and night. We knew they were taking care of him, but we could not witness it for ourselves.
Thankfully, Dr. Simmons checked in on him this morning and was able to relay his progress. His breathing tube had been removed, he was talking, and he had even made a joke.
When we got to see him, and talk with him the first time, he cracked us up repetitively with his commentary on the goings on around him. We had our Dad back!
It took most of the day for them to get him moved from ICU to his regular room. When they finally released him, we were able to scurry up ahead and welcome him in. The Lord blessed us with an evening of visiting, laughter, and a new buddy for Dad. His roommate turned out to be a real character, and the two of them together are like a little comedy routine.
We know the Lord has been answering all of the prayers that have been offered up for Dad and for us. We know because we are privileged to watch the miracle that is our Dad unfold moment by moment.
Extraordinary. Living miracle. An unimaginable vision. These are only a few words that I can use to attempt to describe him. He looks so long to us. I still cry each time I see him again. I just cannot get over how straight he looks.
A nurse came into the ICU room shortly after we were allowed into see him for the first time. She asked us how tall he was in a routine, mundane voice. We all stared at her. We had no idea the answer to her question. As our minds tried to answer that question, we stated what we knew.
He was 5' 10&1/2", forty years ago. He was barely 5' tall yesterday. We don't know how tall he is now.
We don't know today, but tomorrow we will see what height God has restored to him. We are pretty sure he will be taller than Mom, but shorter than Chad! :)
His breathing tube did not come out after surgery, so instead of sending him to recovery as was scheduled, he was put in surgical ICU. Breathing tubes, restricted visiting hours, staff that was still working to piece together his story made for a very unsettling evening and night. We knew they were taking care of him, but we could not witness it for ourselves.
Thankfully, Dr. Simmons checked in on him this morning and was able to relay his progress. His breathing tube had been removed, he was talking, and he had even made a joke.
When we got to see him, and talk with him the first time, he cracked us up repetitively with his commentary on the goings on around him. We had our Dad back!
It took most of the day for them to get him moved from ICU to his regular room. When they finally released him, we were able to scurry up ahead and welcome him in. The Lord blessed us with an evening of visiting, laughter, and a new buddy for Dad. His roommate turned out to be a real character, and the two of them together are like a little comedy routine.
We know the Lord has been answering all of the prayers that have been offered up for Dad and for us. We know because we are privileged to watch the miracle that is our Dad unfold moment by moment.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
This Morning
At 4:30 am, with bleary vision, I caught a glimpse of the hospital through our windows. Feelings of intense excitement and incredible anxiousness, collided with the calm of the Lord's presence in my heart.
Dad's surgery is today. So many people are praying. We all made it. Dad is so brave.
I walked across the hall to check on Mom and Dad and found them ready to go. Mom was smiling, and Dad was very thoughtfully packing his pockets with his necessities. The moments flew by and I was soon dropping them off at the entrance to the hospital. Pulling away from the curb, watching some of Dad's last steps before he becomes straight, was indescribable. With Mom tight by his side, they were entering to his miracle.
After parking the van back at our "home", Kevin and I walked the short way back up the street to the hospital. We found Dad and Mom being cheerfully escorted down the hall by a fuzzy haired, happy fellow they all call Father Richard. Just minutes before, he had announced to a the whole reception area, "Who wants to go to surgery? Follow me!"
A really nice and thorough nurse went through all the necessary medical questions/history, and then described to us what would be happening with Dad while he was away from us.
A quick call to Chad brought Dad's third hug walked through the door and we were all together as a family. Dad waited up as long as he could last night, giving directions intermittently, but had to go to sleep before Chad made it. Reunited in the surgery preparation room, we were about to send Dad to a miracle that merely six weeks ago had been a thought.
If we find the Dr. that helped this man in the newspaper, Dad, will you go see him? It wouldn't hurt to just visit with him in his office.
They came to collect him, loaded him into the chair, let us have our last hugs, and wheeled him away. We immediately held hands and prayed him into the hands of the Dr.
His status on the monitor in our waiting room has read In OR/Procedure since 8:20. Our next update will be a visit from Dr. Simmons. We expect him around 2:00.
I know people are praying. I know God is watching over every step of this process. Our hearts are encouraged, uplifted, sometimes scared, and entirely full of anticipation.
Dad's surgery is today. So many people are praying. We all made it. Dad is so brave.
I walked across the hall to check on Mom and Dad and found them ready to go. Mom was smiling, and Dad was very thoughtfully packing his pockets with his necessities. The moments flew by and I was soon dropping them off at the entrance to the hospital. Pulling away from the curb, watching some of Dad's last steps before he becomes straight, was indescribable. With Mom tight by his side, they were entering to his miracle.
After parking the van back at our "home", Kevin and I walked the short way back up the street to the hospital. We found Dad and Mom being cheerfully escorted down the hall by a fuzzy haired, happy fellow they all call Father Richard. Just minutes before, he had announced to a the whole reception area, "Who wants to go to surgery? Follow me!"
A really nice and thorough nurse went through all the necessary medical questions/history, and then described to us what would be happening with Dad while he was away from us.
A quick call to Chad brought Dad's third hug walked through the door and we were all together as a family. Dad waited up as long as he could last night, giving directions intermittently, but had to go to sleep before Chad made it. Reunited in the surgery preparation room, we were about to send Dad to a miracle that merely six weeks ago had been a thought.
If we find the Dr. that helped this man in the newspaper, Dad, will you go see him? It wouldn't hurt to just visit with him in his office.
They came to collect him, loaded him into the chair, let us have our last hugs, and wheeled him away. We immediately held hands and prayed him into the hands of the Dr.
His status on the monitor in our waiting room has read In OR/Procedure since 8:20. Our next update will be a visit from Dr. Simmons. We expect him around 2:00.
I know people are praying. I know God is watching over every step of this process. Our hearts are encouraged, uplifted, sometimes scared, and entirely full of anticipation.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Our Dad
In our home, there was a phrase that was repeated often and with confidence, "When Dad gets to Heaven, he will have a straight back." This was our complete assurance. In Heaven, Dad's back would be healed.
Dad has ankylosing spondylitis, a degenerative spine disease which is associated with arthritis. His spine fused throughout his early twenties, leaving his back curved and his neck unable to turn. I would always say to people that he couldn't turn his head or throw a ball overhand, but other than that he was just fine. He doesn't complain and has been content to live his life this way.
About a year ago, stiffness and pain settled into his routine and started to hamper regular activities. Walking distances and riding his bike became great challenges. Through many visits with a young arthritis doctor, who was full of new ideas and treatments, she eventually determined there was nothing more she could do for him and sent him on his way. Much of his pain was beginning to center around his hips and they knew that the arthritis was now affecting them. She recommended that he see an orthopedic doctor to discuss hip replacements. After he met and assessed Dad, he was not eager to do surgery at this time- due to anethesia concerns and possible mechanical failure due to Dad's posture. Although he desparately needed them, healing successfully would be hampered by the curve of his back and it was a risk he would not recommend in his current condition. The prognosis was bleak and lacked any encouragement. Faced with no further treatment options or hope from either of these medical sources, a wheelchair was quickly becoming a looming reality.
In November, Mom was sorting through items, attempting to clean and organize papers. She came across an article that had run in the local newspaper in 2002. It featured a gentleman, diagnosed with Dad's same disease, anklosing spondylitis, who had received surgery to straighten his back. The article included a picture and diagrams of his spine before and after.
In 2002, Dad found it interesting enough to cut out and look at, but did not wish to pursue this man's story any further. Dad was doing just fine, and had learned to live life quite comfortably with his disease. An operation in '79 which had left him in a body cast, lying in a hospital bed for seventy-seven days, had been enough to help him to determine that he was not interested in another surgery for his back. The treatment had not been effective in the longterm. The sacrifice had been too great. Another surgery was not at all something of interest.
But when Mom saw it this fall, the need and the hope it ellicited was unparalleled. We were looking at a picture of a man who had been straightened 10 years ago. What could they possibly do for Dad now? Could this be the hope we had been left without just a year before? Would it be something Dad could benefit from now, in light of the need to walk strong again?
The article did not list a doctor, just a health organization's website. Through some time of searching the computer, we landed on a doctor in Buffalo, a meer one hour from Dad and Mom. His website had articles about ankylosing spondylitis, some authored by himself. Was he the doctor who fixed the man in the newspaper that Mom had been carrying around since November?
In the first few days of this year, a phone call to his office brought great hope to our hearts. His secretary emphatically stated that he was an expert in his field, and that Dad needed to come see him. She had an opening in February and thought to schedule Dad's appointment for that time. As she talked more with Mom and listened as she shared Dad's story and his present condition, she said she knew the doctor would only be happy with her if she squeezed him in earlier. Would 2 weeks from now work? she asked. Would it? Of course! The appointment was set, January 18.
The doctor was not in the office that week, the secretary had mentioned. He was at a conference where he was lecturing. His topic? Ankylosing spondylitis.
We prayed through those weeks leading up to his appointment. I found myself praying for this doctor to be the hands of the miracle that Dad needed. I also prayed for our hearts to be prepared to hear whatever news the Lord was going to allow that doctor to deliver to us. Hope was impossible to hold back.
Merely waiting until the appointment time did not prove to be so simple. Tuesday night, the evening before the doctor's appointment, while enjoying a visit with a dear friend, a loud crack and resounding thud startled them. There were high wind warnings for that night from 7:00 p.m. to 12:00 a.m. It was 7:55 p.m. In that moment, a huge pine tree had succombed to the wind, swept the edge of their house, and landed on both of their vehicles. So many branches covered the area around and all over the cars, that it was hard to assess the damage in the dark. One thing they knew, all of Dad's medical records that they had been collecting for two weeks were inside the smashed van. Mom climbed through branches, shattered glass, and bent metal in an attempt to retrieve them, but was unable to get the door open. Within a short while, they had relayed their wind story to Grandma, and were returning home with her borrowed car, the car to get them to the doctor appointment the next day.
Wednesday morning brought great help and encouragement. Dad's brother and nephew were there with chainsaws and muscles to uncover the damaged cars. Their hard work reduced the toppled tree to pieces, and the wrecker was able to haul away the van for assessment, but not before Uncle Darryl pulled the medical records from inside. In leaving for the appointment, they discovered that Grandma's car tire was going flat and that also had to be left at the garage. Quick thinking and more generosity, landed them in the next borrowed vehicle of a friend.
Sitting ten and a half hours away from all of this, waiting upon every text or phone call, was hard. With all that had happened in the 12 hours prior to the appointment, what other obstacles might appear? We had only been waiting two weeks for this appointment, yet really maybe we had been waiting my whole lifetime.
They told me later how it went. I cried through every word. They entered the doctor's office, and hanging on his wall in the lobby was a framed copy of the newspaper article. The very one that Dad had cut from the local paper nearly 10 years before. This had to be the doctor that helped that man!
After x-rays and waiting, they met the doctor. His message was calm and assured. He could straighten Dad. It would be through a procedure called an osteotomy. He would cut a wedge in the curved part of Dad's spine. He would close the gap using bone grafts and stabilizing the spine with rods on both sides. This process would straighten him. He would not stand perfectly straight, because then he could only look straight out, since his neck would still not be able to move. He would leave him tilted at such an angle where he would be able to see down in front of him, as well as be able to look straight ahead. It would be a 3-4 hour operation, followed by a day in the ICU and 1-2 days in recovery. He would come home with a brace and recover for four to six months. Within ten months, he would be healed enough to revisit an orthopedic doctor and get those hip replacements.
All of our hopes and our prayers were being answered in the most astounding message from this doctor. We haven't made it to Heaven yet, and we are hearing that Dad is going to have his "straight back" here, on this Earth.
Surgery was not delayed.
It is scheduled for February 15, 2012. It has been two weeks now of unbelievable news and excitement. I tell whoever will listen, some who have not met my Dad. I try to express what this means to him, to us. It is hard to find big enough words to hold the emotion and feelings. I sometimes express it in these terms. Todd loved our Dad dearly and did all he could to help around home. We feel like one of the first things he would have wanted to talk to Jesus about when he got to Heaven was our Dad. I think they probably talked at length about him, and in God's gracious way, He lead Mom to uncover that newspaper article. To find it when Dad needed it the most, when we all needed it the most.
We ask for your prayers for Dr. Simmons and his team on February 15. Please pray for my Dad. He is so brave to do this. We have always been so proud of our Dad and Mom. Their courage together to face these operations is astounding. Please pray for them through this time where God is going to use earthly hands to heal Dad in ways we only dreamed would happen in Heaven.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
If it wasn't for Christmas...
If I could, I would skip Christmas. The grief that is my daily companion takes on the fiercest of feelings in these days around the Holidays. The traditions that were treasured and held so close to our hearts, are now merely haunting reminders that we are not a complete family anymore. Todd loved Christmas. He took great joy in giving.
Do you like it? Is it the right size? Mom said you would like this, do you really? I saw these, and I thought they were neat, so I got you some. I wasn't sure if you have one of these, but I do, and I love them. I thought you might also.
His generous heart was so huge. I know that we aren't to value things, but there is a certain precious quality to items around my home these days. Presents from Todd in years gone by, hold sacred memories of words exhanged on our most special of family holidays.
He would devour the Christmas morning breakfast casserole in a rare display of strong eating.
Man, this is good. You should make this more often, he'd say through bites.
He was always was the first of us kids to be up on Christmas day. That never wavered as we got older. Chad and I are the biggest sleepers, and he always liked to embrace the morning. It was his face and voice that would so often usher in our Christmas celebrations.
For these memories and more unspoken, I would like to skip Christmas. You see, sometimes the pain of missing him is so great on a regular old Monday afternoon, that I don't really want to invite moments that will just magnify that ache.
But the Lord sent me a precious thought a few weeks ago as I sat listening to our Christmas program at church. If it wasn't for Christmas, I would never see Todd again. My hope of a reunion with him in Heaven would be nonexistent. The greatest source of comfort that I cling to, would no longer be available.
If I skipped Christmas, I would be skipping the very reason we have comfort and hope in our darkest moments.
Jesus may have wanted to skip that first Christmas so long ago in Bethlehem. Would it have been a very appealing thought to him? He would have contemplated that it was soon time to come to Earth. He was going to leave his home in Heaven, with his Father, God, and come to this Earth to be born in a stable. He would grow up, start his ministry here on Earth, and then ulitmately die a horrible and cruel death on the Cross. He would die to take the place of each of us, who have sinnned and lost the ability to enter into Heaven. His death would be a sacrifice for us, our way to be forgiven and to renew a relationship with God.
If Jesus didn't skip Christmas, knowing the hardness of his 33 years of life on this Earth and His own horrible death, then I cannot skip Christmas either. My concerns and hurts fade in the light of His incredible sacrifice for us.
Jesus did not skip Christmas, instead He came and made a way for each of us to accept and believe on a Father in Heaven. His death became our way of eternal life. His coming is what gives us the secure hope of seeing my brother again.
I know that Todd believed, and is right now preparing to celebrate Christmas with Jesus and all of our loved ones that have gone on ahead of us. I know this will be his best Christmas ever. I also know that someday, because we have Christmas and a Savior, I am going to celebrate again with him in Heaven.
Do you like it? Is it the right size? Mom said you would like this, do you really? I saw these, and I thought they were neat, so I got you some. I wasn't sure if you have one of these, but I do, and I love them. I thought you might also.
His generous heart was so huge. I know that we aren't to value things, but there is a certain precious quality to items around my home these days. Presents from Todd in years gone by, hold sacred memories of words exhanged on our most special of family holidays.
He would devour the Christmas morning breakfast casserole in a rare display of strong eating.
Man, this is good. You should make this more often, he'd say through bites.
He was always was the first of us kids to be up on Christmas day. That never wavered as we got older. Chad and I are the biggest sleepers, and he always liked to embrace the morning. It was his face and voice that would so often usher in our Christmas celebrations.
For these memories and more unspoken, I would like to skip Christmas. You see, sometimes the pain of missing him is so great on a regular old Monday afternoon, that I don't really want to invite moments that will just magnify that ache.
But the Lord sent me a precious thought a few weeks ago as I sat listening to our Christmas program at church. If it wasn't for Christmas, I would never see Todd again. My hope of a reunion with him in Heaven would be nonexistent. The greatest source of comfort that I cling to, would no longer be available.
If I skipped Christmas, I would be skipping the very reason we have comfort and hope in our darkest moments.
Jesus may have wanted to skip that first Christmas so long ago in Bethlehem. Would it have been a very appealing thought to him? He would have contemplated that it was soon time to come to Earth. He was going to leave his home in Heaven, with his Father, God, and come to this Earth to be born in a stable. He would grow up, start his ministry here on Earth, and then ulitmately die a horrible and cruel death on the Cross. He would die to take the place of each of us, who have sinnned and lost the ability to enter into Heaven. His death would be a sacrifice for us, our way to be forgiven and to renew a relationship with God.
If Jesus didn't skip Christmas, knowing the hardness of his 33 years of life on this Earth and His own horrible death, then I cannot skip Christmas either. My concerns and hurts fade in the light of His incredible sacrifice for us.
Jesus did not skip Christmas, instead He came and made a way for each of us to accept and believe on a Father in Heaven. His death became our way of eternal life. His coming is what gives us the secure hope of seeing my brother again.
I know that Todd believed, and is right now preparing to celebrate Christmas with Jesus and all of our loved ones that have gone on ahead of us. I know this will be his best Christmas ever. I also know that someday, because we have Christmas and a Savior, I am going to celebrate again with him in Heaven.
Monday, November 14, 2011
My Prince, with tissues, tears, and a smile
I dreamed about him for years. Vague glimpses into a future, where I knew he would someday meet me, were so welcome. Any scenarios put forth in life or movies, would be absorbed into my hopes and catalogued away. I would think, yes, if it were to happen like that for me, that would be a great thing.
The Lord brought him into my world on a most unexpected Friday; just the description of him caused flutters in my heart. After meeting a few weeks later, I knew that I had spent time with a man of such character that my dreams may not have done him justice. I was taken with him, right off, and through the Lord's careful direction and timing, we became man and wife eight months later.
Fast? Many would have assuredly told you that and maybe questioned our timing. Our parents stood behind us, our love in front of us, and the Lord choreographing every step above us. You see, He had to bring us together, because the time was fast approaching when I would need my man in the worst ways imaginable.
People always say that first year of marriage is the hardest, I guess it is because of all of the adjustments and such. It wasn't that way for us, in our own little home. It was as if we had been waiting our whole lives to meet up with thae twin soul created for us. When we were brought together, it was the most natural of occurences. Days passed into weeks, and we were in awe of how fun, simple, and overwhelmingly right life together could be.
We had been married just shy of 9 months when we lost Todd. Newlyweds to the fullest definition of the word. We knew each other, yet struggling through the suffocating waters of tragedy was not a path we had taken until that time. As we drove those 9 hours to NY, to the inevitable goodbyes to my brother, I sat in the back seat. With each mile, we were leaving further behind that carefree soul I had been. Heartache, heartbreak, and intense sorrow was quickly filling my heart. How could we face such a traumatic time? How could we bear it?
The Lord knew before we even met, that He would be holding us through those dark days. He knew I needed a strong man. A man who understood emotions that couldn't be put into words. A man who can hurt alongside those that are hurting. A man to hold me up when my legs could no longer do the job. A man to wipe the tears away that just would not stop coarsing down my cheeks. A man who would sit with my family, for days, feeling pain with us. A man who loved my brother as much as he could in the short time that he was given with him. A man who would mourn with us the loss of years of life and shattered dreams. A man to grieve with me. A man who would tell me that he would be there, no matter what I was able to offer him. A man who would love me, when there was only agony to hold.
He stayed in NY as long as he could, and then came on home to live our lives. He left me with my parents, understanding that we needed each other desparately for a unspoken amount of time. He loved me from the miles and waited until he could open his arms to me again.
I was scared to come back home. I knew that I hadn't made deep friendships yet. Who was going to come check on me? Call to see if the day went ok? I remember telling my childhood pastor my fears for returning home. I told him that Kevin would have to be my everything, and that I didn't think a husband should have to play every roll. Kevin had assured me time and again that he was there for me, in whatever way I needed. My pastor said to me, "Tara, let him take care of you. Let him support you in all the ways that he can. He is willing to, let him do it."
Those words burned into my heart and came back to me time and again. Kevin has been my man through it all. He has loved me when I was upset. He has loved me when the tears choked out any words. He has loved me when my dreams have haunted me and I awake numb to the world. He has loved me through my inability to participate in gatherings that had once been routine. He hasn't rushed me through the grief. He has listened with a heart prepared by our Lord.
The Lord knew the man I needed. He knew when I needed him as well. Sure, I wish that we could have met sooner, but I am so thankful that he brought us together when he did. For he gave our family almost nine months together as a family of six. The Lord has His own plan, in His own time, in His way.
The Lord brought him into my world on a most unexpected Friday; just the description of him caused flutters in my heart. After meeting a few weeks later, I knew that I had spent time with a man of such character that my dreams may not have done him justice. I was taken with him, right off, and through the Lord's careful direction and timing, we became man and wife eight months later.
Fast? Many would have assuredly told you that and maybe questioned our timing. Our parents stood behind us, our love in front of us, and the Lord choreographing every step above us. You see, He had to bring us together, because the time was fast approaching when I would need my man in the worst ways imaginable.
People always say that first year of marriage is the hardest, I guess it is because of all of the adjustments and such. It wasn't that way for us, in our own little home. It was as if we had been waiting our whole lives to meet up with thae twin soul created for us. When we were brought together, it was the most natural of occurences. Days passed into weeks, and we were in awe of how fun, simple, and overwhelmingly right life together could be.
We had been married just shy of 9 months when we lost Todd. Newlyweds to the fullest definition of the word. We knew each other, yet struggling through the suffocating waters of tragedy was not a path we had taken until that time. As we drove those 9 hours to NY, to the inevitable goodbyes to my brother, I sat in the back seat. With each mile, we were leaving further behind that carefree soul I had been. Heartache, heartbreak, and intense sorrow was quickly filling my heart. How could we face such a traumatic time? How could we bear it?
The Lord knew before we even met, that He would be holding us through those dark days. He knew I needed a strong man. A man who understood emotions that couldn't be put into words. A man who can hurt alongside those that are hurting. A man to hold me up when my legs could no longer do the job. A man to wipe the tears away that just would not stop coarsing down my cheeks. A man who would sit with my family, for days, feeling pain with us. A man who loved my brother as much as he could in the short time that he was given with him. A man who would mourn with us the loss of years of life and shattered dreams. A man to grieve with me. A man who would tell me that he would be there, no matter what I was able to offer him. A man who would love me, when there was only agony to hold.
He stayed in NY as long as he could, and then came on home to live our lives. He left me with my parents, understanding that we needed each other desparately for a unspoken amount of time. He loved me from the miles and waited until he could open his arms to me again.
I was scared to come back home. I knew that I hadn't made deep friendships yet. Who was going to come check on me? Call to see if the day went ok? I remember telling my childhood pastor my fears for returning home. I told him that Kevin would have to be my everything, and that I didn't think a husband should have to play every roll. Kevin had assured me time and again that he was there for me, in whatever way I needed. My pastor said to me, "Tara, let him take care of you. Let him support you in all the ways that he can. He is willing to, let him do it."
Those words burned into my heart and came back to me time and again. Kevin has been my man through it all. He has loved me when I was upset. He has loved me when the tears choked out any words. He has loved me when my dreams have haunted me and I awake numb to the world. He has loved me through my inability to participate in gatherings that had once been routine. He hasn't rushed me through the grief. He has listened with a heart prepared by our Lord.
The Lord knew the man I needed. He knew when I needed him as well. Sure, I wish that we could have met sooner, but I am so thankful that he brought us together when he did. For he gave our family almost nine months together as a family of six. The Lord has His own plan, in His own time, in His way.
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,"
declares the LORD.
"As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts."
neither are your ways my ways,"
declares the LORD.
"As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts."
Isaiah 55:8-9
I cannot question; I can only thank the Lord for His provision. He gave me a husband that loves me with a love greater than I can imagine. A man who has been my rock and my comfort through truly the darkest days of life. A man who has been able to make me laugh, who has whisked me away from the pressures to places where sunshine and happiness rained over us. He gave me a man that I could not have even imagined I would need. I am so thankful for a Lord who knows our deepest needs, before we often face them, and sends to us the provisions to carry us through.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Follow the prompting
Acknowledging the prompting, that familar feeling we have all had, can be the most valuable choice we make some days. Sometimes when thinking along through the day, a person comes to mind. We wonder how they are, what might be happening with them, and then we go on. What if instead, we followed the prompting?
One day, I had the privilege of being on the receiving end of someone choosing to follow the prompting. I know that the Lord lays upon our hearts those that have need. He does this, so we can minister to them, showing His love through our actions.
She called as I was driving, and since my sporadically functioning cell phone worked, we talked and talked. I needed that visit so much. She asked about everything, and I shared about even more. She followed the prompting in her heart, from the Lord, to check on me. In turn, the abundant blessings that it rained into my soul healed and uplifted my heart. Discouragement, sadness, unspoken hurts were given a voice, heard, cared about, and I was able to go on with a lighter and uplifted heart. The Lord saw my need, prompted her heart, and she blessed me abundantly.
There have been many times when the Lord has layed someone upon my heart. If I had followed that prompting, I could have changed someone's day or maybe even their week. The Lord could have used my voice to speak His message into their lives. Simply, as I followed the prompting.
One day, I had the privilege of being on the receiving end of someone choosing to follow the prompting. I know that the Lord lays upon our hearts those that have need. He does this, so we can minister to them, showing His love through our actions.
She called as I was driving, and since my sporadically functioning cell phone worked, we talked and talked. I needed that visit so much. She asked about everything, and I shared about even more. She followed the prompting in her heart, from the Lord, to check on me. In turn, the abundant blessings that it rained into my soul healed and uplifted my heart. Discouragement, sadness, unspoken hurts were given a voice, heard, cared about, and I was able to go on with a lighter and uplifted heart. The Lord saw my need, prompted her heart, and she blessed me abundantly.
There have been many times when the Lord has layed someone upon my heart. If I had followed that prompting, I could have changed someone's day or maybe even their week. The Lord could have used my voice to speak His message into their lives. Simply, as I followed the prompting.
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