just when you least expect it

My dad is in the hospital. Again. Actually, he has been for a few days now. Everything was going great and he was making progress at the TCU, but then he somehow caught pneumonia and developed a blood clot in his lung. Jeromy and I spoke with my dad over the phone just the night before they re-admitted him and he sounded as well as everyone there had been stating. He seemed the most alert that we've noticed, sounded positive, and even cracked a few jokes! I guess pneumonia can come upon slowly and then hit a person like a hurricane. Needless to say, these events have caused quite a set-back.

The original goal was for my dad to remain at the TCU until his immune system and muscles became strong enough to endure chemo therapy. Now that his lungs are listed as susceptible to blood clots, the TCU will not allow him to return. Presently, they have him in the Telemetry (heart) wing of the hospital to monitor the clot, and then will move him to the cancer floor. Yesterday afternoon Jeromy and I phoned into a re-grouping “care conference” to reassess treatment goals and figure out where to go from here. We are no longer looking at the same goals.

My dad has only grown weaker and is still very thin. Yet, he has been a champion at eating, despite his lack of appetite. He has received ten times better the nutrition than he has over probably the last two decades! Always on the run with his trucking job, he used to consume two meals a day instead of three, and maybe a snack of a Kwik Trip hot dog or McDonald’s hamburger. So to know he is eating three nutritional squares a day was something I had been hoping to play up as encouragement for him to continue. Once we get him eating well, I thought, then his immune system can follow, and then with continued rehab, we can kick this cancer with chemo!

Due to the recent changes, however, it sounds like chemo is no longer the glimmering option we once thought. I am still a little confused on the specific reasoning, but all of a sudden in the care conference we were talking about terms such as “comfort care” and “hospice” instead of palliative care and chemo and getting stronger and going home! The doctor heading up the meeting went as far as to say the chances of taking chemo have since fallen into pretty much the miracle category. And without chemo, unless God seriously intervenes here, my dad has just a few short months left with us.

All this in a matter of a few days! What is the deal here?! Of course, there is no way I am going to give up even the slightest bit of hope I have that my dad can get strong enough to receive treatment. He has just faced a lot of difficult hurdles all at the same time: the cancer itself; major surgery; wound infections; fevers; complete muscle, energy, and appetite loss; and now pneumonia and blood clots. Actually, when you consider all of these things, fact that my dad is still fighting is in itself a miracle! And although I have said in previous posts that we do not place our trust in doctors or rehab or chemo, it is difficult not to question how circumstances which looked even a little optimistic just the other day have so quickly and drastically turned for the worst. I know the story is not over yet, and that anything can happen, but we are naturally discouraged. We are left with a lot of decisions, which are painful no matter how you approach them.

Simply, we are losing a great man who has already dealt with more hardship in his life than a lot of people (although, I know hardship is so extremely relative). I told Jeromy last night that if this is God’s way of quickly taking my dad “home”, I hope God more than restores all of the brokenness he has experienced in his life, even beyond what the average Christian can look forward to. And I know I am talking crazy and out of my head because I know that the least of Heaven will wildly exceed the expectations of every believer combined. Still, I want my dad to draw his first spirit breath assured that every heartache and suffering he ever experienced on earth was worth even that first tastes of Heaven. And I know that’s how it will be. But I still have this overwhelming desire for God to extend bigger grace to him, whatever that even looks like.

Perhaps God also wishes to extend bigger mercy to my dad, and I'm not dismissing the fact that these turn of events could be just that. While I want my dad to stick around and live life as long as possible, I also don’t want to see him go through a lot of pain and misery. If his quality of life is going to be poor, maybe the best thing is for God to take him out of his diseased body and heal him for real. For good. The hardest thing for me is not that my dad could pass away in the near future, it has more to do with watching him struggle through this and not being able to make any of it go away.

And for some reason it has not been easy to pray for my dad. I think there are possibly a couple of variables causing this. For one, there are so very many people all across the nation who continually tell us they are daily lifting my dad up in prayer. Perhaps I am unconsciously using this as a cop-out. It's just easier to let others pray my prayers. The truth is that God can use my prayers too! This is my dad and I should be the one praying the longest and hardest!

As much as I have read and studied (even taken a college theology course), I don’t think I will ever be able to crack the mystery of prayer. God seems to move with or without prayer, in which His will is always carried out. Yet there is no question in my mind that God uses (and probably prefers to use) the prayers of believers as part of the process. What a blessing for Him to have His children come to Him in their time of need! And what a blessing for His children to, in this specific way, take part in God’s plan! We pray for what we want and need with the understanding that God will always do what is best, regardless of how our emotions might bend those prayers.

People from my family’s every acquaintance have bowed the knee on behalf of my dad. I’m sure most are praying for miraculous healing, life-extending control of the disease, quality of life, grace, mercy, or all of the above. Hopefully each of them are also praying for God’s will at the same time. I know am covering all the above, because I don’t know the mind of God in this situation. I only know that God is good and, despite my struggle with faith, I have no doubt that His goodness will reflect in every way regarding His plan for my dad. That’s all I know. And that’s all I should have to know.

The other reason I think prayer for my dad has been tough is because it instantly reveals emotions that are difficult. Distance certainly plays into this. When we were in Minnesota my dad's situation was all I could think about all week, as I had absolutely nothing else to think about. I was allowed to let the circumstances consume me. It was the reason we were there. But now I am a thousand miles away and, while I don't want to become desensitized to what my family is dealing with back home (and the truth is, we are still dealing with it here!), it cannot control my thoughts and energy as before. I still have to work. I still have to concentrate on the tasks at hand and, as difficult as it is, continue to live life here in Maryland.

I have felt torn this way ever since we returned from Minnesota two weeks ago. I fear that if I think too much and allow my heart to actually feel, I will become worthless in my responsibilities and I will feel all the more helpless in that I am here and my family is there. It is easier to just stick with the facts. Keep my emotions at a safe distance since out here I am not given the time nor the freedom I need to fully express them. So I hold back.

In that light, I need prayer. Pray that I might pray for my dad, and that in praying, I might discover the blessing in the process.

I was driving home from work yesterday (shortly after the tele-care conference) thinking about all of these things, while sounds from a CD drifted in and out of my consciousness. Jeromy had received a gift card for CBD for his birthday last month, and he had a little money leftover and wanted me to pick out a CD. I chose the latest offering from Sara Groves, "Tell Me What You Know". I had never actually purchased anything by her before, but I love the radio singles with her thoughtful voice and poignant lyrical style. Well, and she's a fellow Minnesotan, what can I say?

I'm funny about listening to a new CD. If I pop it on in the car I often get stuck on a certain song, so that I keep it on repeat until I know it by heart, having not even finished listening to the rest of the songs! With Sara Groves I got stuck on track #6 because of its easy harmony, and I didn't move beyond track #6 until yesterday's drive home.

I have to be honest that I'm sometimes tempted to lay out a fleece. The whole, 'God, if I do this, You prove you're there by doing this or that'. I know it's old testament and that God doesn't work that way these days, and besides, it shows a lack of faith. In defense, I claim Mark 9:24. I certainly don't mean to do this, and it's usually not serious, but more like a cry out for a little compassion. As I was driving and thinking and half-listening to Sara's soothing melodies, an entirely random thought came into my head, which prompted me to skip to track #9. I just needed something, and I thought maybe there would be a song on the CD that might speak to my family's situation. God's Word encourages, but there are definitely many other way in which He draws near to us. I had no idea that the song for track #9 was called "It Might Be Hope" until I got to the chorus. And while I know that God is always there, I seemed to especially realize it in the three minutes that followed. The lyrics indeed spoke to my heart and turned it to Emmanuel at a much needed moment.

I am becoming more and more of a believer in a God Who pours out His compassion to those who seek it and even to those who need it and are not aware of their need. I have experienced both.


IT MIGHT BE HOPE

You do your work the best that you can
you put one foot in front of the other
life comes in waves and makes it's demands
you hold on as well as your able

You've been here for a long long time

Hope has a way of turning it's face to you
just when you least expect it
you walk in a room
you look out a window
and something there leaves you breathless
you say to yourself
it's been a while since I felt this
but it feels like it might be hope

It's hard to recall what blew out the flame
it's been dark since you can remember
you talk it all through to find it a name
as days go on by without number

You've been here for a long long time

Hope has a way of turning it's face to you
just when you least expect it
you walk in a room
you look out a window
and something there leaves you breathless
you say to yourself
it's been a while since I felt this
but it feels like it might be hope

- Sara Groves