Thin Places

It’s been awhile, I know. Over the past many weeks I’ve completely unplugged, disappearing from this blog, Facebook, Twitter, and all but the most essential email exchanges. It has not been some idealistic attempt to get back to nature. This time I haven’t been chilling in my cozy, woodsy cabin listening to the birds and the sounds of squirrels scampering and chipmunks chattering.

Not even close.  I’ve been listening to alarms clanging and machines whooshing and the varied and sundry bells and whistles warning that something is wrong, very wrong. And not just in Boston.

The good news is that my brother-in-law Jay has made it out of ICU after 58 days, and is now on his 6th day out of many to come in an acute rehab facility. He’s still on a few of the machines that kept him alive in ICU – such as the ventilator, dialysis, feeding tube. But so many of the machines are now gone and the process begins to – painfully and slowly but surely – wean him off of the remaining devices and get him back onto his feet.

But not long after returning from Boston to get back to work and to life here in Cleveland, my phone rings in the wee hours of the morning. No one wants the phone to ring this early – you just assume can only be bad news. The ambulance is already at my dad’s house and within minutes, we’re out the door and turning what is normally a 40 minute drive into a 20 minute dash.

Dad is quickly moved from the ER to ICU at Medina General, where we hear terms we have grown all too familiar with in the last couple of months. We’ve also learned how to interpret numbers on a monitor and we don’t like what we see. Dad’s heart beats erratically and far too fast, his blood pressure is far too low – along with his oxygen. The doctor and nurse ask about a living will and about intubation. In front of my mom and dad they say that he is on the “cusp”. That he may bounce back or things may “go south very quickly”. They arrange to have him immediately transported to the Cleveland Clinic, telling us that it is his best chance of survival. They also tell us to call the family.

As they prepare to transport him, Dad is very alert – alert enough to ask Ken to cook the mass of chicken and ribs defrosting  in the refrigerator. He apologizes for ruining the family cookout planned for that day before he’s rolled out the door. We were looking forward to some family fun because the two days previous had been painful due to the fact that Dad’s brother died.

While living in Thailand with his wife, my Uncle Ed suddenly got sick and was quickly unable to communicate or move. Because of the language barrier with his wife, we could never understand exactly what was going on with Uncle Ed, until his wife called to say – He is dead. Phone calls started flying between Medina and Ireland and Thailand and back again as the stunned siblings tried to get information and comfort one another. My father simply closed his eyes at the news. Two days later he was in an ambulance heading to ICU. My theory is that he simply imploded.

This  last week-plus has been filled with more frightening reports, terrifying events, clanging alarms, and doctors, doctors and more doctors. Dad is tired, but still his amazing, strong, compassionate self . Each day when I kiss him hello, his first question is about Jay and my sister-in-law, Kathy who is with him in Boston. His next question is always  about Ken’s dad in Texas – who has just recently been admitted to  hospice – and of course about how Ken is holding up through all this. He doesn’t focus on himself. He wants to see pictures of his great grandbabies and maintains his wonderful sense of humor. He loves the nurses and hates the hospital food – which gives him lots of material. Dad always finds the good, even when it’s buried under mounds of difficulty.

Perhaps it is because we are dealing with multiple crises and have a 360 degree view of the entire landscape, but I admit, it’s been difficult to maintain my sense of humor and sunny disposition lately.  It’s just not coming easily or naturally during this challenging season. As I’ve said before,  I  often have to purposefully dig for the treasure of each day, buried under what seems to be an endless amount of frightening news, bad reports, amidst the clanging of alarms and jangling of my nerves.

I recently stumbled on a Ralph Waldo Emerson quote lately that suits my season – one that I keep repeating to myself:

Don’t waste yourself  in rejection, nor bark against the bad, but chant the beauty of the good.

I have been rolling these words around in my mouth and mind for days, thinking about what it means.

I chant the beauty of the good when I sit on Dad’s hospital bed showing him a video of Poppy helping Nana plant flowers.
I chant the beauty of the good with with each picture of Poppy that Leanne or Jacob send me as we laugh over her latest antics.
I chant the beauty of the good, when I call Kathy in Boston to laugh together on the phone or when I collapse in tears in the comforting arms of my friend, Kimmi.
I chant the beauty of the good when I help Hana study for her final exams, rejoicing in the fact that she made it to the end of her school year – something that last fall we did not think possible.

I chant the beauty of the good when I look into the face of God in silence, knowing that He is close. So very close to me and to all those I love. I chant the beauty of the good when I read, or quote to myself,  the unchanging words of scripture:

The LORD hears his people when they call to him for help. He rescues them from all their troubles.The LORD is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those who are crushed in spirit. The righteous face many troubles, but the LORD rescues them from each and every one. – Psalm 34-17-19

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. – Psalm 46:1-3

…the LORD who created you says: “Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you. I have called you by name; you are mine. When you go through deep waters and great trouble, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown! When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you. For I am the LORD, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. – Isaiah 43:1-3

Have you never heard or understood? Don’t you know that the LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of all the earth? He never grows faint or weary. No one can measure the depths of his understanding. He gives power to those who are tired and worn out; he offers strength to the weak. Even youths will become exhausted, and young men will give up. But those who wait on the LORD will find new strength. They will fly high on wings like eagles.They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint. - Isaiah 40:28-31

And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. – Romans 8:28

And He says “My gracious favor is all you need. My power works best in your weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may work through me.-  2 Corinthians 12:9

Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about what happens to you. -  1 Peter 5:7

Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. If you do this, you will experience God’s peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. And now, dear brothers and sisters, let me say one more thing as I close this letter. Fix your thoughts on what is true and honorable and right. Think about things that are pure and lovely and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise. – Philippians 4:6-8

And when I cling to the words of Jesus, the One I love and follow, I chant the beauty of the good:

I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world. – John 16:33

Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke fits perfectly, and the burden I give you is light . – Matthew 11: 28-31

Even before I finish this post, I receive text messages from Boston. Jay is in distress and is even now being transported back to the hospital and the intensive care unit. I send out urgent prayer requests and think about  what I consider urgent and what I don’t consider urgent during this season. I find it hard to care about things that have no eternal value.

My phone dings again; another text message just now comes in now from Texas and a Wadenpfuhl aunt is en route to the hospital via ambulance.

Now my phone rings -( my ring tone is a fave Joni Mitchell song. I am on a lonely road and I am traveling traveling traveling traveling/ Looking for something what could it be?)

It’s my brother calling from the hospital. The doctors seem to have figured it out and barring any setbacks, dad will soon head to a rehab facility near his home to get his legs back under him.

I chant the beauty of the good.

I’m cleaning out my files – always an unpleasant task for myriad reasons. For a start, it makes me nervous to find things I dropped through the cracks months ago. I also get depressed thinking about things I wish I had done differently. And then there are the things I don’t know how to act on or I’m trying to forget. That’s why I buried it in a file drawer in the first place. And trust me, buried is the right word.

I am however, turning over a new leaf, as they say. (I have to. I lost the old one.)

Before that can happen, I need to sift through these piles of papers, just to make sure I’m not throwing out anything important, like my passport or the only existing copy of whatever.  While I would rather set the whole mess on fire and move on, I’m old enough to know that this doesn’t work – in life or filing. I have to face the music.

So it’s late afternoon and the vultures are circling, the dark clouds descending and I’m muttering to myself something about quitting  when suddenly, a wrinkled photocopy falls into my lap – words from Mother Teresa, tucked between an old Christmas script and handwritten notes from a Madagascar trip. Don’t ask why these three items would be in the same file. It might have something to do with the color blue, I don’t remember.

But I don’t believe in coincidences. I think God meant for me to see these words today – words spoken by a woman who is my personal hero  – to remind me, to center me.

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered; forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish,ulterior motives; be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies; succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight; build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough; give the world the best you’ve got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God.

It was never between you and them anyway.

It’s between me and God.

What I do, I do for God, because of God, with God, in full sight of God – no matter how it turns out.

I also remind myself that I am often part of the problem – unreasonable, illogical and self-centered etc etc.  But forgiving myself wouldn’t be out of line.

On the contrary, it would be healing.

I swat feebly at the vultures. I’m not dead yet. I blow fresh breath to scatter the dark clouds and tape the graying paper to my wall. It’s between me and God – which is both comforting and terrifying. But I won’t quit today.

Now back to my files. Where did I tuck those matches?