Author: pamela

Throughout the seemingly long afternoon I received surgery updates from the nurses and soon I would hear the words I longed to hear:  He’s doing fine.  After Dr. Ryan explained a few specifics about the surgery, he said Wes was very cooperative throughout the surgery.  I still wonder what that meant. 😉  Then he asked if I had any questions.  I thought, Owow — I ought to have some questions — I’ve had all afternoon to think of questions — surely there are some important questions one would ask at this point.  All I could say was, It’s a new day… I don’t know what questions to ask.  I thanked him for saving Wes’s life.   I had nothing else,  just:  Thank you.  Thank you.

I had been saying that to the Lord… This is a new day for us.  This is a new day.  Thank You for doing this, Lord.  Thank You…  sort of like when we take the cup of salvation, all we can really say is: Thank You.

A new heart also will I give you,
and a new spirit will I put within you:
and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh,
and I will give you an heart of flesh.”
ezekiel 36.26

To which we truly can only say: Thank You.
Thank You spiritually, thank You physically.

I’m thankful the Lord never wastes a thread.  I’m thankful His ways are only good all the time.  I’m thankful He goes before us and there is nothing hidden from Him, nothing He does not see, nothing He cannot do — no purpose of His is thwarted by any means.  The Lord did me a loving favour four years ago to allow me to see His merciful, healing hand.   Early that warm July morning, I’d been on my face before the Lord and knew with certainty that if He would choose to heal our son if He would choose to take him home that that fifty/fifty chance of survival the doc was offering was a win/win.

I had fainted, unless I had believed to see
the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.
–ps 27.1

Out of surgery now and getting Wes settled in his room, the nurse told me I might want to wait a bit, that it might be a startling sight to see my husband on a ventilator and that he would look a bit different due to some swelling and that there would be a lot of equipment and tubes and things…  I nodded to her and thanked her — and inside I thought: I stood beside my son… I know I want to stand beside my husband.

Many many times through the years when hard things come, the Lord has taught me to take in what’s happening and to watch and wait… and to tuck it all away.   I’ve repeated to myself many times, this is so big… you’re going to need this… someday you’re going to need to look back on what the Lord did here (and here, and here, and there, and there).  You’re going to need this.  

I could see that even though he was still heavily sedated the pain was tremendous.  Over the next hours he would have the vent removed and reality would set in… he was going to have a painful recovery period.

Our children and grandchildren had gathered in the waiting room by this time.  It was quite a sight… could’ve been a wedding a funeral, a surgery or a World Cup game there on the television… family all standing around talking together.  One of the boys brought in several boxes of pizza and they were all strategizing what to do next, how they’d get all Wes’s  pool jobs done and who would do what in the weeks ahead.  There was so much work to do — I wish the scene could’ve recorded for Wes.

Through the course of the evening they all had opportunity to go in a few at a time and stand beside him, to talk to him and hold his hand.  His tender smile and recognition was comforting to each one of them — their short visits would be repeated throughout the night.

I decided to go home for a few hours late that night… and as I drove across the trestle, it began to sink in what all had transpired that day — how the Lord had very clearly directed the path, how He’d answered that humble prayer so specifically and how He’d provided “just what the doctor ordered.”  I say it began to sink in… but I’m not actually sure even today that I grasp it all.  But this I know:  it was a new day and once again Providence did rise before the sun.

At some point in the night, I went from the chair beside Wes’s hospital bed to the couch at the window… the shade was down to darken the room but I was suddenly aware of the bright overhead lights in his hospital room.  The morning had come — and true to the testimony, all I knew of that morning was that Providence had risen before the sun.

I thought back on the previous Wednesday afternoon… I’d come in to the dining room having spent the better part of the day working in our gardens. I was doing some preparation for a talk I was to share the next evening and in the course of my reading, I came across a verse–and I recall I had fully intended to look it up in my Bible, but I decided to keep reading.  I’m glad I kept reading, as the profundity of the verse and a very present application would have been lost on me at the moment.  Only a few hours later I would recall what I’d read and I would praise the Lord for His *living* Word.

A new heart also will I give you,
and a new spirit will I put within you:
and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh,
and I will give you an heart of flesh.”
ezekiel 36.26

I had shared this with Wes, we’d talked about it many times in the previous day.  All the while we knew the Lord had, indeed, gone before us.  We’d asked the Lord to make the way before us very plain.   Before we went to sleep, we’d prayed and thanked the Lord for His graciousness to us, for His presence, for the work He was doing; we affirmed to the Lord (and to one another) that our times are in His hands.  Then came the morning.

A couple of different cardiologists had come into the room; the cumulative readings on the monitors and other tests showed that Wes had had yet another heart attack.  It seemed the whole atmosphere had changed: now more serious were their voices, now more urgent were their discussions than the previous had been.  It was sort of like when you get that note on your computer screen that the battery power is low and then you get another screen message that alerts you your computer will soon shut down and you scramble like a crazy to find your power cord to plug it in before your computer shuts off and you lose whatever work you were trying to finish.  But not really like that at all.

Dr. Ryan was talking with Wes and at some point said, How ’bout if we just do this?  Wes was sitting up in his bed, saying he knew there were several others scheduled for surgery in the next couple of days and that he’d be happy to wait his turn — especially for those whose needs were more serious.  I can’t recall the whole conversation exactly, but it was complete when Dr. Ryan replied, How about if we just do this right now?

That set in motion a flurry of activity and preparation for surgery.  There was no time to check off the boxes in the “care checklist” booklet we’d received.  No time to accomplish all those pre-surgery tasks and procedures.   Somewhere along the way Wes was given some pre-op info: You’ll be on a heart-lung machine, we’ll do this and that, you’ll experience this and that, after the surgery you’ll have such and such… it’s all sort of a blur to me now.

Through the hallways, in the elevator, down the long corridors…  Do you have any other questions?  Do you have on any jewelry? Your wife can hold that wedding ring for you… Through that door is the third-floor waiting room… The nurse will inform you when he’s successfully on the heart-lung machine and the surgery is underway… We’ll take good care of him… The doctor will talk with you when he finishes the bypass grafts…  Do you have any other questions?

I kissed him… took his glasses and his wedding ring…  and through my tears I tried to remember to smile… to be brave.

It didn’t really dawn on me at the time, but over the next few hours I would come to see the gravity of the situation.  It was not a normal surgery day.  Not a single soul was in the third floor waiting room of the beautiful Cymbaluk Tower… no one at the desk… no lights on… no noise at all.  It was surreal.  And I realized the Lord had answered our prayer.  He’d made the way very plain.  Our times are in His hands.

Hannah came in… she put Wes’s wedding ring on her finger behind the ruby ring he had bought for her many years ago… she cried as she said she never knew that inscription was inside his gold wedding band.  Be there.

Be there… his earnest prayer for all our children:  Be there.

On that Friday afternoon it seemed we were leaving with more questions than answers — more of a dilemma than a solution.  Strangely, as I look back on the whole sequence of events, it wasn’t necessarily the wisest thing to do—to leave the hospital.  But at the time, it seemed like the logical next step — even though we weren’t exactly thinking in or planning for sequential steps of action.

Earlier in the day, when the doc had said bypass surgery was the next step, my husband thought he needed more time in order to plan for and schedule such a surgery.  The need for surgery wasn’t in question — we’d seen the images and what the heart cath had revealed.  The doc sort of incredulously said he was thinking that surgery ought to be done in the next week.  Hmmmm.  Next week?  I’m not sure either of us had a grasp on the gravity of the situation — you know, hindsight being 20/20 and all, we’d likely have scheduled it then and there.  I’m glad we didn’t know.

Even as we were walking out to the car, leaving the hospital, my husband slowed his pace bit, asking me to walk a little slower.  At home, settled in a chair in our living room, he rested for a little bit.  Maybe it was an adrenaline rush, maybe it was nervousness, I don’t know… but instantly my mind was filled with things I knew needed to be taken care of…  a quick tidy here and there, and then there was the cake I’d committed to making — a cake for a baby shower.  The cakes needed to be baked and the fondant needed to be made.  The ovens were preheating, the mixers were whirling the cake batter and I was working along, filling the pans and planning for the decorating of the cake and I was singing… and, yes, mulling over the surgeon’s comments.  As the cakes were baking, I prepared the fondant and made syrup for all the hummingbird feeders.  Wes had gone upstairs to copy off a bunch of records and reports that had been requested by the hospital’s business office.    Funny how one can do a whole bunch of things in a short amount of time when the mind’s on overload.  All the while we’d been praying—affirming that our times are in His hands and that the Lord would surely direct our path.  We determined we would wait on Him to make very clear the next step.

With the cakes wrapped and in the freezer, a few batches of fondant all wrapped up, the hummingbird feeders all filled… it felt so good to be home, to have a bath and to sleep in our own bed.  So tired,  I was asleep before my husband came to bed.  That quote, filling my thoughts:  “All I know of tomorrow is that Providence will rise before the sun.”

Very clearly, Providence had, indeed, risen before the sun.  Roused out of a deep sleep… my husband’s hand on my shoulder and his pained whisper in my ear… I need to call 911.

I watched and prayed as the aid car drove away from our home down our lane.  I dressed and  gathered things to put in the car — strange what you think is necessary or what you remember in such times.   I remembered that when my husband had a heart attack seven years prior, I kept saying to myself: get fully dressed, get fully dressed… you may be there awhile and you cannot wear a nightgown at the hospital, you have to wear clothes.  And, it’s strange what you think to tell your children in such times.   Like plans for the nautical themed shower cake and what foods are available for everyone when they get up.

Our times are in His hands;
there are things we can’t plan for — things like heart attacks.

I made my way to the emergency room.  Again, we waited — it was all very familiar to us — the blood draws, the waiting, the monitors, the pain scale of one to ten.  Later, settled into a 7th floor room, more tests, questions and affirmations that surgery was the next step.  Our times are in His hands.  This theme would guard our thoughts and govern our responses — this theme would be our hope and stay.

As my husband talked with our different children through that day and into the night, he would affirm to them over and over that no matter what the outcome of this whole thing, the Lord is only good, His ways are only good and we can trust Him.  Over and over again he would share that all his hopes are in Him and He has a very good plan.  After long talks, as the last kids left very late that night, we settled in for a rest — my husband in his bed, tethered to the monitors and I in my chair beside him… the incessant beeping lulled me to sleep.

I haven’t written in awhile… well, at least not here on my blog—mostly bcz I’ve not really had motivation to write.  Words… gazillions of words are posted day after day and so many are worthwhile—but in the heaps of gazillions of words so many worthwhile things are buried.  I receive and delete entries every day.  You probably do, too.  I guess I’ve not wanted to add to the heaps of words — or to the trashbins of email accounts, either.   I love to write.  I love to share what the Lord is doing. But I’m also really insecure about writing.  Especially knowing there are so many talented writers out there, putting out polished entries complete with photos and commendations.  I don’t have a whole lot of that.  But one thing I have is a passion to share what the Lord has done, is doing and how gracious and merciful He is and how great His love is for me.  And for you — for us all.

 All I know of tomorrow is that Providence will rise before the sun.”

Day after day I saw that quote on the computer screens all around the hospital.  In the emergency room.  In the waiting rooms.  In the private rooms.  It had such a profound effect on my thinking.  I feel as though the Lord had that quote for me to see over and over again so that I would walk through each day with confidence that He was going before me — that no matter what happened, my times are in His hands: He only does all things well; He loves me; He has each experience in hand for my good and His glory.  And over the course of many days, I would see Providence going before me.

Nearly three weeks ago, I called my husband, as I customarily do in the afternoons, to say hello, to see how his day was going and to see when he’d be home for dinner.  That Wednesday afternoon was no different — except that our son answered the phone when I called.  Not necessarily thinking it strange, I asked how things were going… he related that dad wasn’t feeling well.  Never once assuming something different, I just thought that they’d had something bad for lunch or whatever.  Not until my husband drove in and started out of the truck did my thoughts immediately change  — suddenly spliced into my movie were the words, “are you having a heart attack?”

Over the next several hours we would go through a very familiar process of waiting and waiting.  Later that night, settled into his room, we’d hear more familiar words and assumed we knew the next procedure.   I was unprepared but strangely not surprised by the doctor’s report and diagnosis after the heart cath procedure.  When another cardiologist came in to talk with my husband about what was needed, my husband said he’d be able to schedule the procedure in sixty or ninety days or so… it just wasn’t a good time for it right now.  Heart attacks are funny things… you never know when they’re going to happen and they sure take you by surprise.  And, they’re inconvenient.

Being that our situation wasn’t all that conducive to scheduling a $urgery of that magnitude, we determined to pray… to seek the Lord and His very clear direction as to what we ought to do next.  What should we do next?  There were lots of ideas, lots of conversations, lots of opinions, but we clearly needed the Lord’s precise direction.  We prayed He would make our path very plain.  And He did.

Providence did, indeed, rise before the sun.

Tell ya ’bout it next time.