Pic: Photo by TABoland
It’s been almost eight years since Chuck passed. I thought of him today (January 31) on his birthday. So many of the pictures in his last six years or so included evidence of his medical struggles. So I went back a bit to find some happy, healthier photos.
The social media memories from over the years are always bittersweet. The other day, I came across a post about how we had seen the goodness of God. The day after his fourth brain surgery, the neurosurgeon was walking into the ICU as I arrived. He asked how Chuck was doing and I replied I hadn’t seen him yet that morning. We walked in together.
I had been told repeatedly that Chuck would come out of surgery like a stroke patient, that he’d be completely paralyzed on the right side and possibly unable to speak. There was also concern that his cognitive functions might be affected. He was moving all four limbs, speaking clearly, and in full mental capacity. His entire medical team was amazed.
We saw the goodness of God.
The story didn’t have a Pureflix movie ending. Over time, his disability increased and his cognitive ability decreased. The further treatments, radiations, and another surgery failed to stop the brain tumor growth. After fourteen months in hospice care, he went to sleep on a Tuesday afternoon and didn’t wake up.
Does this heartbreaking ending mean that God wasn’t good to us?
I remember being told that if I prayed with more faith, God would miraculously heal Chuck. We were sent anointed handkerchiefs in the mail from well-meaning relatives. People fasted and prayed. We drove to a prayer meeting in another city in hopes of healing. We approached God every way we knew how. Miraculous healing of the body didn’t happen.
After the funeral, people insisted I was supposed to be mad at God. It was a natural and normal part of grief, they said. I was told I was probably mad at God, but still in denial. I couldn’t understand it. Why should I be mad at God?
Doesn’t everybody die?
Doesn’t everyone’s body eventually get sick?
Are we issued some kind of guarantee at birth that if we are super religious-extra righteous- the same bad things that happen to everyone else in human history won’t happen to us?
It just didn’t make sense to me.
God showed Himself in our bad times.
I saw God do good things in our bad times. I sensed his presence, his comfort, and encouragement. He gave us strength when we needed it most.
We should have been buried in medical debt and we weren’t. An extremely expensive experimental treatment wasn’t available to Chuck. But we found out that the military formulary carried the drug and an army doctor was willing to oversee the treatment at no cost to us. There’s a long list of other ways that God attended to small details in our lives.
Mostly, the presence of God gave us courage and strength. I don’t know how this story will sound to anyone else. You can believe what you like. During one of Chuck’s many hospital stays, I was exhausted. I was leaving the hospital for what felt like the millionth time. As I waited for the busy elevators for the millionth time, my spirit said, “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”
The next morning, I approached the elevators with a sigh of frustration. I was so tired of standing here waiting for an elevator going the correct direction that wasn’t already full. As I approached the elevator, I heard the familiar ding. The doors opened to an empty elevator that was going up! Later as I went to lunch, I approached the elevator and it dinged before I even pushed the button. The elevator was empty and going down. For the rest of the day and multiple elevator rides, it was like the God of the universe was my personal doorman. Was it a coincidence, a fluke, a lucky day? Call it what you want, I didn’t wait for an elevator for the rest of the day.
At the end of the day, I thought surely my elevator “luck” had run out. Before I got to the elevator to push the button, I heard it ding and the doors opened. No one was on the elevator and it took me non-stop to the ground floor. I knew without doubt that God wanted me to know I wasn’t alone. He had heard my weary heart. I shouted something. When the doors opened on the ground floor, I was grinning from ear to ear and singing. The people standing there thought I was losing my mind, but I didn’t care. It was the strength and courage I needed to keep going.
I have many other stories like that where God let us know we weren’t alone. Maybe that’s why I never got mad at God. Everyone has hard times and bad things happen in life. But the living God doesn’t leave us to go through it alone. How special am I that the God of the universe took time to be my personal doorman?
Be encouraged that whatever you face in life, you are not alone. You are seen, heard, and deeply loved.
“For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, ‘Fear not, I am the one who helps you.’” Isaiah 41:13
Copyright @tabolnad 2023
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