Seeing God's Hand

     A week ago I took Reed to the E.R. He had another episode of SVT, supra ventricular tachycardia, the first two words identify the location in the heart that is out of rhythm, the third means it is beating fast. Reed is not a musician, he is actually tone deaf, but heart rhythm is a required subject for everyone. The first incident happened in Sept. 2021. They rebooted his heart with a med the same way we would a computer, shut it off briefly, and turn it back on. The hand of God was in that whole event because the ensuing examination of his heart revealed that the main artery was 90% blocked, which could have led to a serious heart attack. To prevent that, they inserted a stent through his wrist and put him on a lot of medications, some of which he would have already been on if he had not gone five years without seeing a doctor. He was also instructed to exercise and to eat like the 65 year old he was, not the 25 year old he wished he was.

    So this episode of SVT he handled much differently. The 66 year old did not try to finish up at work before going to E.R. and he called me to pick him up instead of driving himself. God handled this episode with the same sovereign shaping of circumstances He has used for ages. Reed woke up that frigid December morning at 5 a.m. with the feeling that either a door was open or the heat was off in one of the hangars. Knowing he would not be able to get back to sleep until he checked, he drove out to work. The doors were fine, but the heater in the office was not working. Because of that when he came to work later that morning, he called Trevor, who handles the owner's facilities, to come look at it with him. So Trevor was with Reed when his heart went out of rhythm and stayed with him until I arrived to get him. God's hand provided someone to be at the hangar when Reed normally would have been alone. And this saved me from a frenzied drive to the airport, trying to monitor him by phone and wondering if he would be able to open the gate to let me in.

   This takes us back to the beginning of the story--waiting in the E.R. While I was sitting there, the Lord spoke into my mind, Do you see my hand in this? How could I not? A blind atheist could see God's hand in the circumstances. Besides the above, one of the E.R. nurses was a flight nurse for ALERT and knew Reed. Another of the nurses sometimes experiences SVT himself and suggested a couple natural means for getting a heart back in rhythm, which unfortunately did not work for Reed, but the med did. Although the staff was prompt and professional, both Reed and the atmosphere were calm. I did not for one moment fear that nine months from the day I lost my son, I would also lose my husband. But I could not stop myself from reminding the Lord that he could have saved Tracy. And He answered me, I did. I could not argue with that. He certainly did. 

     As much as I would have liked to have Tracy around for this blip on the monitor we mortals call a lifespan, what I wanted with every beat of my heart, was for Tracy to be in heaven with the rest of the family for all eternity. God's hand led Tracy faithfully, despite the years of wandering and wondering, to the place where both he and we knew for certain, that Christ had claimed him. That is the saved that matters. Just as the med stopped Reed's heart for a moment to restore it to proper rhythm, the Lord's answer I did, reset my mind to what saved really means. I see it now, Lord, thanks for the hand.

The Birds Do Not Doubt

  

     We are experiencing what the weather doomcasters like to call a "brutal" storm. Single digit temperatures, wind and snow. This used to be called winter weather. Alerts about winter driving dangers sound like previews for Fear Factor. I do not enjoy driving on snowy highways, that is why I have an SUV with studded snowtires and heated seats. But for the love of Frosty, we're driving station wagons, not Conestoga wagons! I am secretly, okay not really secretly, really hoping some of the transients that breezed into northern Montana with no plan of where to live, and definitely no plan of where to work, will let these frigid winds blow them to friendlier locales--like Frisco. 

     But when I finished figuring out what everybody is doing wrong, it was a pleasure to observe what God's creatures are doing right, especially the birds.

 

The Birds Do Not Doubt

 

The birds do not doubt You

as they fluff their feathers 

against the frigid wind and weather.

Though the deepening snow will hide

so much of their food supply,

The birds do not doubt You, why do I?

 

Sheltered from the cold and wind,

I watch the swirling snow that blows,

 warm and safe looking out my windows.

I know we will have enough to eat

though snow piles many inches high.

The birds do not doubt You, why do I?

The birds do not have decades of

memories of your faithful love.

They cannot read the scriptures

to find comfort in your words.

They trust their Creator's watchful eye.

The birds do not doubt You, why do I?

The birds know loss, that life is brief,

the cruelty of Creation's curse,

yet still they search for food,

build nests, seek mates,

raise young, and sing--and fly.

The birds do not doubt You, nor should I.

 

 

Christmas Mourning

 

    Reed asks me how I can write such hard things. I can write them because that is what I am feeling. For me writing is what makes it better. In terms a mechanic would understand, it is my pressure release valve. We learned in Griefshare that articulated grief heals faster and even if it didn't, even if it did not help me or anyone else, I would still need to write.

 

Christmas Mourning

 

There was so much excitement on Christmas morning

when you kids were little,

stockings full of treats--even before breakfast.

It was controlled excitement though,

presents were opened one at a time

after telling something nice or fun

about the people who gave them.

 

Later, when you all were grown,

Christmas morning became calmer,

quieter, though our traditions continued.

Now your brother and sister

 have children and traditions of their own,

and the excitement of Christmas morning

has been reborn in our granddaughters.

But this year will be different

we have no pattern, no tradition

 for this kind of Christmas morning.

You are in heaven for this one

and I know, regardless of any celebration there,

that you are in a much happier

and more beautiful place than our home.

My mind accepts this, but my heart does not.

How can we have Christmas without our youngest son?

How can we still be a family 

when someone so loved,

such a big part of all of our lives, is missing?

This holiday, though still a gift of God,

 will begin with Christmas mourning. 

12/16/22

 

 

Should Have Seen That Coming

     The CDC, whose job it is to anticipate and intervene in contagious disease spread, seems mystified that Americans are not only ignoring their Covid booster, but forgoing the flu shot as well. They should have asked me, I made that prognosis two years ago. The CDC pushed the self-destruct button on their own credibility through their piecemeal propaganda about the Covid vaccine.

 

• The vaccine will keep you from getting Covid.
• Oops, you will still get it, but not bad enough to need a hospital. 
• Okay, you might wind up in the hospital, but you won't die.
• Sorry, you might die anyway.

    This is why I do not believe there was a government orchestrated conspiracy to spread mindless submission to the populace, although only the government could a sabotage a scheme so thoroughly. You do not inspire mindless submission by repeatedly repudiating what you just said. Citizens of a country founded on rebellion against their government do not take lies lying down. 

    So you see, CDC, the reason so many people are not getting the flu shot this year is because you lied to us about the Covid vaccine. Through the course of Covid, we realized CDC recommendations are actually just a shot in the dark. Americans did build up antibodies though, we grew immune to you, if not to the flu. And since anticipating effects is what you do for a living, you really should have seen that coming.

Be It Unto Me

   Since I have nearly a month until the next BSF class, I decided to study something besides Amos over Christmas break. The gospel accounts of Jesus' birth are a logical fit. The application I found as I meditated on Mary and Joseph's roles in Jesus' birth, is that cooperating with God's plan is, at its core, simply a choice to be obedient. An angel showed up to announce God's plan, but he didn't stick around to defend Mary and Joseph from the ugly rumors that followed them all their lives. Mary knew that would be the cost of her obedience, yet still she chose, "Be it unto me as you have said." The angel did not tell her Joseph would die before Jesus' ministry began, or that she would witness her son's gruesome death, or that Jesus would leave her behind when He returned to heaven at a young age. Those, too, would be the price of her Be it unto me.

    God's plan at this time, this painful walk of grief, seems impossible to me. But I, too, have a choice to make. I can choose to face this as a matter of obedience to God and to His plan to take Tracy to heaven at a young age. Instead of focusing on my ability to bear the consequences of God's plan for my son, I can focus on my choice to cooperate with it. I can choose, like Mary, to do what God asks of me which, right now, is that I need to feel this sorrow. I asked the Lord to help me heal, this is apparently how He will do it. And I have a much better helper than a here today, gone tomorrow angel. I have the Holy Spirit indwelling me--for keeps. He will not protect me from the pain of loss, but He can give me the strength to endure it. There is not a submissive "handmaid of the Lord" bone in my body, but my stubborn will has the power to choose Be it unto me.

Two Wreaths

   

 

    One of the Griefshare Surviving the Holidays suggestions was to decorate our loved one's grave. As you can see by the picture, the day was gray and dreary. Nevertheless, we hung a wreath on his memorial bench and staked solar lights, even though the cemetery closes after sunset and no one but those in the neighboring properties would be there to see them come on. It was just one more instance of doing the best we can with the choices left to us, unsatisfying choices, far removed from what our hearts want so desperately--to see him and not his grave.

 

Two Wreaths

One hangs by our home's front door.

One rests where your body lies.

 

One for joy, one for sorrow.

One for peace and one for pain.

 

One for birth and one for death.

One looks forward, one looks back.

 

One for the Savior, born to die.

One for the son He came to save.

 

Woven together for all time,

 like a wreath, God's Son and mine

           One.