The Welcome Home – Page 71 – The Next Chapter

What a difference an hour makes

I glanced at the last blog entry.
I smiled as I read: more tomorrow.
And there was “more tomorrow.” There was more “tomorrow” in yesterday than I’ve had in a very long time. And so… I mull over my closing statement: “more tomorrow.” I mull it over and consider: what a difference an hour makes.

I had finished up on the computer… my husband and sons came in from a long day… it was late, they were tired and they were ready to hit the sack, so to speak. My husband came in and talked to me for a bit, had some fruit and was getting ready for bed. Sore and tired.

It was chilly in our home and so the warm down comforter and the soft quilt felt so good as I snuggled into bed. I was watching my precious husband from my pillow… still sore and tired. He was so sore and tired that he felt he couldn’t lie down and had thought he might stay up a bit. What would happen in the next moments I was totally unprepared to experience.

My husband was so chilled he looked for slippers… so sore he was unable for a moment to stand up straight. I could barely hear him as he asked me: what does it feel like to have a heart attack?

What?!?! Are you kidding me?

Uhhh…. it feels like pain in your arms. pain in your chest. heavy pain. it feels like an elephant is on your chest and you cannot breath. It feels like nothing you’ve experienced before, I guess. I guess it feels like you feel right now.

I’m no longer snuggling in my warm bed – our warm bed. Grabbing my bathrobe I hurry into our kitchen where my husband is breathlessly talking to someone on the phone… instantly he asks me to call 911.

That call to 911 set in motion the series of events that would begin with EMT’s coming to our home, assessing my husband’s situation and telling him they wanted him to go for a ride to the ER. I will never forget his painful experience that night. I speedily threw on my dress, my tights and shoes… I pinned up my hair… attempting to be mindful that I might wear that dress and whatever else I put on for an unknown length of time in an unknown situation. I tried to remember all I would need — and, no time to be scared or timid, three minutes later I was in the van driving very quickly and very cautiously to the hospital.

O, what a difference an hour makes.

Once in the ER, it was confirmed that my dear husband had had a heart attack. The words: myocardial infarct sank down in my ears. His blood pressure was sky high and he was already receiving medications that improve his condition tremendously. Hours later he was admitted to the coronary care wing. I had gone home to sleep for an hour, to check on the sleeping children and to get a few things. I returned to the hospital and a bit later where Wes was scheduled for surgery – first they would do an Angiogram to assess the condition of his heart, veins and arteries. This test revealed a number of blockages… a couple were very severe. I would later learn that the angiogram was followed by angioplasty to insert 2 stents in two 95% blocked arteries. The surgeon asked if I had any other questions. I think I mumbled a couple of questions that seemed important at the time, but aren’t all that important now. The surgeon assured me the damage was very minimal but that the arteries were seriously blocked and the stents would restore health.

Later, when another surgeon came out to ask me if I had any other questions, I really couldn’t think of one — or any — except: is my husband going to be alright? It seemed all I could think of was the previous couple of hours I had spent in that heart surgery waiting room. I realized that I had joined another club that day. A club I was surprised had come to me so soon – so early on in the game. I was surprised that I was already joining a group of women who had in common that their husband’s had had heart attacks. Another unenviable club membership. But in a very peculiar way, I was comforted by the fact that each one of the 5 women in that waiting room was a wife… perhaps a mother, a grandmother, a sister or an aunt. I looked around the room many different times that morning and considered that each one had likely faced an uncertain time, maybe a painful time that brought them to that place… that they, too, were asking: is he going to be alright? I wonder, even now, how those women are doing… I’m wondering how the family is doing that gathered in the CCU waiting room. I’m wondering whose story ended that night and what they’re doing now.

Each had a story to tell, each had a life they had been piecing together like a patchwork quilt. And it all begin because they, too, knew: what a difference an hour makes. I have been adding some new things to my quilt this week… squares and stitches I will never forget for they have completely changed my outlook… for I am now a member of the club: women whose husbands have had a heart attack.

Our children also joined a club… kids whose daddy’s had heart attacks.

maybe more on that tomorrow.

blogging’s like a bicycle

Well, sometimes blogging’s like a bicycle. You ride and ride and ride some weeks and then other weeks you just can’t seem to get to the peddling. Still other times, blogging’s sort of like a bicycle with a loose chain… you get going and things seem to be running along pretty smoothly and then the chain slips off the gear. That’s a bit descriptive of my blogging style, I suppose.

Yesterday… o, yesterday… what a day! I’ll write more about it tomorrow — it was a bittersweet day. It was the day of our friend’s memorial service… but yesterday was also my husband’s birthday. He can now order senior coffee at McDonald’s. He has an AARP membership. He has my unfailing love, admiration and respect. And I think it’s pretty neat to have shared 32 of his birthdays with him… how God has blessed me with this tremendous and loyal husband and all these wonderful years!! I pray for many, many more years.

Today would’ve been my daddy’s birthday… I wish I had known him or spent time with him all of my life. When I met him as an adult after not spending my childhood in his care, I never would have imagined the swift passage of time and never would have thought he’d die so young. Every one of the “senior years” is younger to me… now. We had some wonderful years and our children — his grandchildren — treasure the memories and rehearse them from time to time. He was larger than life… and some of the memories have, because of a bit of embellishment, taken on a life of their own, I’m afraid. But he really was a grand man with grand stories and witty humour. On this day, eight years ago, I was sitting beside him… he was dying of cancer… and the making of memories had come to an end.

And today’s the first day of autumn. hmmmmmm.

more tomorrow. the chain slipped off.

Remembering Bob Bruzas

Robert Alan “Bob” Bruzas

“Bob Bruzas was born on September 22, 1943 in Seattle, WA to Joseph and Ruth Bruzas. He was raised in Bothell and graduated from Bothell High in 1961. A love of children led him to pursue volunteer work with Easter Seals, and a career in teaching. He graduated from Washington State University in 1966. He was the director of Camp Patterson, for disabled children, for 13 years. This is where he met his wife, Hildi, who worked there as a counsellor. They married in 1972, and began raising their family in Everett, where Bob worked with Young Life, taught Sunday School at Silver Lake Chapel, and taught P.E. for 30 years at Evergreen Middle School. He loved coaching gymnastics and wrestling.

Bob loved Jesus Christ, and was faithful to encourage people around him with the reminder that God loved them and would meet whatever need they had. His heart for hurting people gave him an eternal impact in many lives.

Bob enjoyed hiking, fishing, working on the Idaho ranch, gardening, and keeping in touch with former students.
Bob lived bravely with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) for 15 years. He loved having his grandchildren around, and also enjoyed visits with many precious people, in person and on the phone. The birds, farm animals, flowers, and wildlife he saw from his chair were a daily joy. He finally saw His Savior face-to-face on September 5, 2007. Through the progression of this disease, he was lovingly cared for at home by his wife and children and by our dear hospice nurse friend, Donna.

He leaves his devoted wife, Hildi; and his children, Rachel (Brian) Foster, Rebecca (Laren) McGuigan, Deborah (Jerry) Schwartz, David (Michelle), Anna, Peter (Aminta), Daniel, Tommy, Mark, John, and Greta (all of Grangeville, Idaho, except David, living in Black Diamond, WA.); his grandchildren, Kate Foster, Joey, Mary, Hildi, Patrick, and Saoirse McGuigan, Jesse and Damaris Schwartz, Annabelle Bruzas, and Faith, Nelson, and Beau Bruzas, will miss “Papa”. He also leaves his siblings, Joe Bruzas and Kathy Schroeder; and many nieces and nephews.

Bob was buried in the family cemetary in a private service, and will be honored at two memorial services at 1 p.m., Monday, September 10, 2007, at Christian Reformed Church, Grangeville, ID and Saturday, September 22, Rose Hill Presbyterian Church, 12202 NE 90th, Kirkland, WA.
In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to www.persecutionproject.org (water wells project in Africa).”

A families’ Rubicon

Throughout the week I’ve been thinking on some of the talks men gave during our fellowship on Sunday. We gather each week with believers in a home church and each week our meeting is in the form of an open meeting – meaning, that in addition to singing and prayer, the men share what the Lord’s given them to share in the way of a message or a testimony or whatever. I generally take notes so that I can review the talks later or so that I can look up whatever Scriptures have been cited. Occasionally one of the men will share something that really gets me thinking or really confirms something the LORD’s already teaching me, or has been impressing or guiding here in our home. I love that we can always learn… I love that the Lord continually shows us new angles of His Truth.

Some of the men, though they might not see or appreciate the comparison, remind me of my husband’s younger self. Their zeal, their fervent love for the Lord and the Truth, their determination to lead their families and their passion for the Word is so refreshing and encouraging. I love the enthusiasm of younger believers – it’s really motivating; motivating to redouble the efforts or to revisit that which the LORD has clearly shown in His Word, to reexamine those things that the Lord directed in earlier years. We get older… we get softer –or so it appears. We appear to become lackadaisical in some ways — we may lose a bit of the fire we once had. Some would say this is weak and some would then tend to discount or overlook an older person. But I think sometimes all we need to do is spend a little time around someone older to see what’s really going on and the older need to spend time with the younger… someone idealistic and zealous for the Truth and the old fire is rekindled. And the younger person may need to take a long walk with the older one to see the view down the road. What this also shows me is that both are needful in a fellowship… both are of tremendous, inestimable value — both need the genuine fellowship of the other. Fellowship takes time… it really takes time; and in our harried world, time’s becoming more and more precious — anything threatened becomes more precious… time, age, health, ability…

So what have I been mulling over? One of the men shared about his family studying ancient history, and drew some analogies to the time of Julius Caesar’s crossing the Rubicon. Crossing the Rubicon made a bold statement, passing the point of no return, Caesar said, “The die is cast.” Our friend likened that move, or the crossing the Rubicon, to our walk with the Lord: that point we lay down our lives at His feet, that time we say we will follow Him no matter what… no matter what others do, no matter what it costs, no matter what happens. He shared a bit about his family and decisions they had made as a family.

History gives us lots of those analogies, those points of no return, those times where the die is cast. Families have to come to that point if they are to walk on with Christ – if they are to be obedient to the cross. A family has to decide the here and now things… the from here on and the from now on things of life. For each family, the from here on and the from now on things might look different one from another family. But the from here on and the from now on things might include: from here on and from now on: we will walk with Christ. From here on and from now on: we will have no divorce, we will have no idols before God, we will walk in faith. From here on and from now on, we will live as a loving, working, courteous, loyal, faithful family. We will cross the Rubicon. We will walk on, we will engage in the battle and we will fight to the end. The die is cast. Our I will’s will stand firm in Jesus.

My husband and I, right before we were married, made a determination with several I will’s and several we will never’s. Along the way, the Lord has brought us to the water’s edge and we’ve had decisions to make: to stay there or to step in and cross the river. When He put on our hearts to leave our childbearing to Him, to give Him Lordship of the womb, we had to cross the river, the die was cast. When He led us to discipline, to homeschool, to guide and train up our children in the way He has, we had to cross the river… the die was cast. We’ve had to mark those decisions well, we’ve marked some with stones because they’ve been challenged, they’ve been tested, others have scoffed, things haven’t always been or seemed rosy and we’ve needed to be reminded: we crossed the river, the die was cast.

By whatever naame or idiom or phrase, every Christian family needs to come to the River. And then, hopefully, to the point of decision… the point of no return: their own Rubicon – their own: “Choose ye this day…”

Parenting and Grandparenting Little Ones

The interesting thing about grandparenting little ones while still bringing up little ones at home is the necessary time each requires. Necessary time for instilling priorities and grounding in the relationship, necessary time for attention and care and necessary time for establishing order and authority. It’s a tough balancing act at times.

There’s the grandparents inherent desire to be accepted, appreciated, loved, etc., by the grandchildren — something that really is natural in children, but somehow, generally, grandparents don’t have that solid assurance from their grandchildren that they have from their own children. I think it has to do with the entirely right and appropriate authority of parents. But I think parents have a lot to do with the level of authority and respect represented and shown for their children’s grandparents. Children know their parents are their “authorities,” but they have this testing ground with grandparents… do they have to obey them or not? do they have to listen or not. Again, parents bear a great responsibility here: they must guide the level of authority and responsibility and obedience.

I like to think of it this way: when we have a job to do, we take responsibility for the planning, execution and completion of the job. If we don’t have the freedom to do the job completely, then we’ve not really been given responsibility for the job. Same with grandparenting. Grandparents need to be given the “authority” to look after the children, to be obeyed and to discipline when necessary. When the grandchildren know these perameters or expectations are set, they will have the freedom to love and obey the grandparents as they ought — and when the grandparents are sure of their place in the grandchildren’s lives, they, too, have the freedom to love and care for the grandchildren appropriately.

But if the grandparents are don’t have the blessing of the children’s parents to be true grand-parents, then they’ll naturally go down another path bcz they’ll still want to have the loyalty and affection of the grandchildren—the grandchildren will know they don’t have to listen or obey the grandparents and so the grandparents will seek, perhaps manipulative, ways to gain the hearts of the grandchildren and, ironically, the grandchildren will attempt to manipulate the permissive grandparents.

When the grandparents don’t have the obedience of the grandchildren their relationship will on shaky ground. If the children’s parents are seeking to train up the children in the way they should go, and yet have compromising grandparents to deal with, then the grandchildren will be torn by the guilt they will come to have if/when they behave contrary to parent’s wishes. They will be torn by split loyalties. They will be trapped in the snares of temptation and permissive grandparents. And the foolish grandparents will wonder: what happened here?

But if the grandparents parent the grandchildren the way their children are seeking to parent their own children, then there will be harmony and security. This harmony and security will not only be experienced by the children, but by the parents and grandparents as well.

So back to that balancing act of parenting and grandparenting simultaneously. We have noticed that we must be extremely careful when caring for our grandchildren here in our home. It’s not all that noticeable in other’s homes where we and both our children/grandchildren are present. But in our home, we see the necessity of consistent parenting for both our young children and our grandchildren. We cannot allow our grandchildren the luxury of being/doing/saying what we don’t allow our own youngsters to be/do/say. And yet… there’s this unique dynamic that we also need to work to affirm our children (the parents of our grandchildren) but deferring to them when discipline is necessary or backing up recent discipline with appropriate boundaries. Our grandchildren witness this as see us as a “united front” with their parents. And our own little children (the aunts and uncles of the grandchildren) see us demonstrating the very same care and discipline and so they also have affirmation of a unified consistency. I can’t afford the consequences of not doing these things… and the children would be poorly served if I didn’t.

More another time on grandparenting and parenting young ones.

09-11-01

Do you recall where you were and what you were doing on September 11, 2001?

On 9-11, what’s inherently understood as September, 11, 2001, our country was hit with the worst terrorist attack in history. I think most of us can remember things or events of that day as if they occurred this day. I was sleeping and my mother called on the phone to alert us that a plane had crashed into one of the buildings of the World Trade Center and that if we could, we should get to our television. She knew that we have no reception here at our home without some serious juryrigging wires, coat hangers and tin-foil. But she knew we’d want to witness what was going on in New York. And we did. What happened in the following hours was nothing short of horrific.

At the time, my husband was caring for a friend who had a severe brain disorder and was spending every day at Harbourview Hospital in Seattle… our baby, ‘melia, was 10 weeks old and we also had a brand new grandson. Our older children had just begun a new homeschooling year and the weather was warm. I recall that, for days, we simply left the tv set on, distorted sound, fuzzy picture and all.

What an amazing time that was… what a strange turn of events. What an amazing source of conspiracy theories that event was and has become. And as sensational as the reports sound, there are some that really sound plausible – especially as each day brought conflicting stories. Theories or no, conspiracies or no, truth or lies… what happened on September 11, 2001 was, again, nothing short of horrific. What a devastating tragedy and unspeakably dreadful event… for those who died, for those who helplessly attempted to save them, and for those they left behind —the loss and grief they continue to bear must be overwhelming at times. And for the rest of us, it will always be remembered as a very sad day in history.

housekeeping

It might appear by the looks of some people’s desks or cabinets (or garages) that they are disorganized or messy… and yet, sometimes these are the most productive, organized people around. They seem to be able to set their hands on any needed item at a moment’s notice. They, even though it might appear otherwise, know right where everything is.

Orderliness. I have attempted this my whole life. I am not orderly… not really. It may seem so, but, as a general rule, I’m just too abstract random. I hate this flaw… no, wait, who has a flaw they like? Anyway… every autumn I attempt to set our house in order—order for this house anyway. You know… the sort of order that might not look picture perfect – but everything has a place and that, in turn, prompts me/us to put things away after we use them. Now… one thing I have to guard against is comparativitis. If I let myself, even for a moment, compare my order to another’s order, well… the battle is lost. I have friends whose homes are so orderly, yesterday’s paper is already in the recycling bin. Last season’s clothing is already folded and stored away. There is only one bottle of shampoo and one bottle of conditioner in the shower and they have laundry sorted into a divided hamper. This week’s dinner plans are set, the food is purchased and the vegetables are chopped. The garden tools are sharpened and oiled. Comparativitis could just destroy me… but I have decided to just rejoice for them, learn from them and, well… just work at getting each day’s needs taken care of… and, as always, wipe the table before the farina dries and get the milk jug back into the fridge before it gets warm.

So back to ordering. Setting things in order also gives me an opportunity to assess or take a sort of inventory and to assess things to see what needs replacing or repairing or whatever. Especially since we homeschool and have a business that tends to be seasonal. I’m learning through the years that I can help myself and my husband a whole lot more if I’m conscientious about purchases and possessions and then, concerning children: much more is caught than verbally taught. So… regardless of my personal “bent,” I need to live in a manner that I would want to be emulated by them. They’ll naturally gravitate toward their particular ‘bent’ but I can sure influence the direction of the bent. I really need to keep this in mind more and more.

There is a curve though. Today I discovered a problem with ordering things in a new way/location. Things get lost! I lost my cell phone. I couldn’t find it yesterday and needed to get going and so I just quit looking for it. When Timothy called — a number of times — he wondered why I wasn’t answering or returning calls. Then I thought of my oft used solution and wondered how people manage with only one phone (line). What do they use to locate their phone? Do they go to a neighbor and ask for a call and then run back home to listen for the ringing? Well, After searching for one (of three) the cordless phones, I called my phone… as I heard it ringing, I confidently clicked off the phone in my hand thinking I would instantly set my hands on the cell phone. I still couldn’t locate it. I redialed. Still not seeing the ringing phone. One more time. Voilá… I found the phone. In the back of the freshly cleaned cabinet… just where I… how’d that get there in the plastic container under the clips, barrettes and covered rubberbands? I was cleaning! Ah… I remember now. Amelia was my helper.

So today, in addition to making some peach jam and pear butter, I’ll be attempting to clean another couple of cupboards… and tomorrow I’ll do the same and so on… throughout the next few weeks. I’m told we’re in for a nice “Indian summer” here in the Pacific Northwest… something about the abundance of spiders (and there is!!). Well, whatever the case, warm weather by any name would be delightful. Soon enough though, history reminds me, the daylight will be shortened considerably… sunny days are numbered and the brightness will have to come from indoors. I’m sincerely attempting to delight in this this year.

Happy Grandparenting

I love the testimony of a plaque that hangs on the kitchen wall at our friends’ house. She’s Nana to six grandchildren. As is shown below, the first four letters of the word, spoiled, have been crossed out. It’s a great conversation piece and thought provoking, too. Too often grandparents and other people joke about little children and poke fun at rules and limits. Almost mocking indulgences are made when people give children “treats” or other things the parents wouldn’t want them to have or would want in moderation not excess.

We’re of the same mind that the worst thing a grandparent can do is to “spoil” the grandchildren — for I know of few things worse than spoiled individuals (or spoiled anything, for that matter). I’m thankful our parents have this same mind, by the way. It’s made our job so much easier with our own children and spurred us on with our grandchildren, too.

Of what value is it to children if grandparents undermine the training and values the parents are attempting to instill? Of what genuine worth is an indulgent grandparent? O, I am not equating kindness or “pampering” or sweet-treatment to spoiling, for it’s a delight to tenderly care for and guide children and grandchildren. No… that’s not what spoiling is. Spoiling is allowing children to get away with things contrary to the parent’s teaching… contrary to the biblical disciplines the parents are instilling… contrary to wisdom. Spoiling is a destructive manipulation many well meaning grandparents use in order to gain favor in the grandchildren’s eyes. But the trouble with that is that the children will have to eventually discern who’s really loving them and they’ll be torn between loyalties… loyalty to parents and loyalty to grandparents.

Leading children along right paths is one of the great privileges of grandparenting. I’m seeing it as a second opportunity to do well with and for the first child.

Happy Grandparent’s day to the grandpa’s and grandma’s!
plaque

May we all have sweet memories of children and grandchildren who are not spoiled but are led well!

The Way I See It

Or, actually, the way I figure it is that I’ve bought enough Starbuck$ mochas to be invited to submit quotes for their cups. I know, I know… it is rather presumptuous of me to think I’ve got a running shot at the competition. But, I mean, really… have you read some of the quotes? Now, actually, there have been some rare occasions I’ve gotten a cup with a quote worth framing. Seriously. However, most of the time, I don’t find the quote worth the cup it’s printed on… and surely not a filled cup. Okay, okay… enough of that rant. Sometimes I laugh out loud when the caption on the front of the cup catches my eye. I have to laugh… it says: Careful, the beverage you’re about to enjoy is extremely hot. I think: Hmmm; I hadn’t noticed! Must be the paper band around the cup.

So… my husband came home from meeting with the men in our fellowship. Yep… $bx is one of the best little places in town to talk and study the Word. It’s comfortable and warm… and, amazingly, not too busy at night. Now, Sunday morning, on the other hand: total mayhem! Really. My husband came in and I just had to give him a hug and take in the delicious aroma of café latté! And… he had just enough plain coffee remaining in his cup for me to heat it a bit and feel like I enjoyed a whole cup! I also wanted to read:

The Way I See It #238

Have you noticed that dogs are the new kids?
You take a walk with your kid and your dog, but
nobody says, What a cute kid!” nstead they say,
“What a cute dog! What’s his name? Is he a rescue?”
Maybe if I put a collar and leash on my kid
someone will notice her.”
– Judy Gruen
Humorist and author of The Women’s Daily Irony Supplement

I thought… Why, yes I have. I have noticed that for a long time. Dogs (or pets) are the new kids. All over, women are being duped into believing that that nurturing, loving, homemaking desire they have deep down inside can actually be fulfilled by a pet. Women are being sold a lie… and they’re buying it, too: that a pet can be just like a baby. You’ve probably seen it too. A young couple gets married and they’re not ready for a family (so they ought not be married – ooops, I digress), but they have this longing… so they get a pet. They have a baby shaped longing in their hearts… but then they fill it: with a dog. They take the pet everywhere. They call the pet their baby and each other: mommy and daddy. They buy special things for it and then they have a portrait made and send it to you for Christmas and you have to hang that picture of that little “family” on your fridge. Yep – have to. Just think of how hurt they’d be if they came over to your house and saw that you didn’t respect their “family” enough to post their portrait.

We’ve had many pictures on our fridge over the years. They’re great conversation starters, too. But you know… they can also be prayer reminders, too. I pray for them… pray the LORD will bless them and fill the longing of their heart. Honestly, I genuinely believe that women have been sold a bill of goods and have been educated to believe contrary to God’s wonderful design, conditioned to ignore the longing they have to nurture and taught to accept the counterfeit. For years I’ve received prayer requests from women who put off childbearing and then ache month after month, year after year: praying and waiting for conception that they had previously fought.

So, yeah… I have noticed that dogs are the new kids. The way I see it? Believers need to live otherwise.

loyal — to the end

[September 6, 2007] Several weeks ago I wrote but never completed the following blog entry. Now that story has an ending. My heart is heavy today as I think of our friends and the first day they spend without their husband/father. Wes took Hannah back over to Idaho on Sunday morning so that she could continue helping our friends and she called a bit after midnight to share that the final chapter was complete. Today our friend, Bob, woke up in the presence of the Lord Jesus… in the presence of all the saints who’ve gone before and of the angels in Glory. This is a great comfort. Now… the family goes on without him. They loved him, were loyal and can trust the LORD for the days ahead. This, too, is a great comfort.

Whew… so all of that happened.

July 16, 2007 I know it’s been awhile. No, I wasn’t on a cruise or sunning at the beach or spending time at a spa… but, I must say that 107º in Lewiston was h-o-t as was the rest of the time we spent in Grangeville over the weekend. I so love the heat!! I’m finding the only heat I’m experiencing now, back home, is from hot-flashes! I suppose this will be some consolation that this coming winter will be more bearable knowing that I will not need to rely solely on standing in front of the woodstove to get toasty warm.

But that’s not what I wanted to write about. No, what I wanted to write about briefly today is: loyalty. Loyalty is a strange thing. In fact, perhaps one might never really know if it’s a priority or if loyalty is present until it’s tested. Sort of like a chair or a stool. You don’t really know if it’s strong until you step on it and let go of whatever else you choose for stability. You never really know how strong the coffee is until you taste it or you never get the full flavour of tea until you steep it in some boiling water. So… loyalty. Until you’re tested, you may not, in fact, be loyal at all. You might be dedicated for a day or so or a week or so, but years? Loyal for years? Gotta be tested.

My friend is loyal. I watch her — have watched her and will continue to watch her. I love that she’s faithful – she’s been faithful and I know I will watch her continue to be faithful. I’ve no reason to doubt it. But you know what I marvel about? Yes… she’s been utterly loyal. Never looking to be relieved of her “life” or “duties,” she’s tended to his *every* need. Loyal. She’s fed, bathed, clothed and tended to every single thing that concerns him – day after day, year after year – everything. I don’t know how many times I’ve said, I don’t think I could do what she’s done. I thought about it a great deal, and I’m really not so sure I could do what she’s done. I hope I would. I want to think I would. I’d want to be… but year after year after year after year…. I wonder. Would I have given up a long time ago? Would I press on faithful —loyal— to the end? So, you know, I’ve begun to pray to that end: that I would be found faithful —loyal— to the end, no matter what.

I’ve thought about faithfulness —loyalty— to the end. I promised my husband thirty years ago that I would be faithful — loyal— to the end. I’ve kept that promise. It was so easy to promise that thirty years ago. It was such a delight, such a wonderful thing to say, to think… to feel. It was easy bcz my resolve hadn’t actually been tested. It was easy bcz I was well, I was young, I was strong and idealistic — that, and I’ve noticed a tremendous resolve in many children of divorced parents to determine to *never* allow any circumstance to dictate or diminish loyalty. That was me then and it is me now. And my loyalty to my husband increases day by day, year by year. So why would I think my response to a devastating situation be anything less than loving loyalty?

We went to Idaho to visit our friends this past weekend. The family has been a tremendous blessing to us through the years. As the father of a large family continues to suffer the debilitating effects of ALS or Lou Gehrig’s disease, we have grown increasingly concerned about the long term effect illness has on each one… thus, my references to my loyal friend — the wife of this man. None of them would seek recognition for the marvelous care they give and none seek sympathy for the situation they daily live with, nor for the tremendous responsibility they each one carry — especially our friend — his wife, mother of their children and his primary care-giver all these years.

Her resolve’s been tested. Her loyalty has been tested and has not been found lacking in the slightest. In fact, she stands as a model of excellence and is to be praised. She would not say so — she doesn’t seek any of that and actually deflects the heaps of praise she receives. I think that’s probably one of the things I admire most and have taken note to remember. When she hears the words of others, “I couldn’t do that…” she replies, “I couldn’t either, but the Lord can.” She has been by her husband’s side… been his total and complete helper for every single thing that concerns him. His illness has been progressing for at least 12 years now and completely debilitating for longer than half that time. And through it all, she has daily praised the LORD.

It struck me profoundly this past weekend that I thought I couldn’t do what she’s doing… but I do believe this: God can. The LORD can do anything, anything, anything. For nothing is impossible with Him. And so… I don’t really need to know how faithful I am or how loyal I am to my husband today. The thing I need to know –and I do seek– is that the LORD *is* faithful. *He* is loyal and *He* alone is my strength. And should I face a similar challenge… I, in faith, trust that He would carry me, too. I pray to be found faithful. I pray to be found loyal. To the end.