As I sat in the living room of our rented apartment provided by my employer, we sat and talked; all of us. My wife and children love to just sit around and talk. It is wonderful. I love it and yet in some ways I try and do other things instead. Why? Most of my TV watching is useless drivel; a waste of my time. Time is a commodity and I often spend it unwisely leading to regrets later. My children have been pointing this out to me. I am starting to see it too. We began to talk of discipline. I was not doing the talking. It was the three of them.
"I definately think you did the right thing in spanking us. I don't remember you ever being cruel to us when you spanked us. It was always right! I mostly just remember us praying each time after you spanked us!" You see we were led to believe that if you love your child, then you will be careful to discipline them. Another proverb actually says that He who does not discipline his child, HATES his son! That one, I thought, was harsh. But God's word is true whether we want to accept it or not. Then my son said something. He is the one who my wife would call me about sometimes saying, 'I have had to discipline this boy 10 times today. I just don't think it's working. I can't stand it! I hate doing this. He just isn't getting it!' It was hard for me to hear those things but would usually have to take care of it when I got home. We doubted at times that we were doing the right thing. We hear it all over the media by the so-called experts; it is wrong to spank; it is abusive, you should never spank, time-outs are the way to go, it is cruel to hit a child. These things were always out there telling us we were wrong. God says to be careful to discipline your children and in so doing save them from death! That sounds kinda harsh too!
Anyways, it was Michael who floored me with his comment, "I think that disciplining us was the best thing you ever did for any of us."
I could barely believe my ears! What a blessing to hear such confidence from our own kids! They don't remember EVER being hit! They remember being guided lovingly to learn self-control. Thank you God!
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Somewhere in America on an empty ballfield in the early 1970’s……………….
“Dad!! It’s gettin’ wicked dark! I can’t even see the ball anymore! Can we go home now?”
“Yeah, OK let’s go guys!” dad would yell to the three lanky boys. One of them is at the backstop/homeplate afraid he’s gonna get hit by a pitch from dad ‘cause he can barely see the ball anymore, and two in the field who get a little nervous when they hear the ball hit the bat……for the same reason. They’ve been at this for an hour or two now and all three of them are exhausted from chasin’ endless hits from one another as well as hitting endless pitches from dad. They all pile in the car and go home. No doubt there are more than a few lost baseballs scattered over the outfield this time. It just got too dark for the boys to find them. I was one of those three lanky boys. It strikes me as funny that we would complain about “playing” too much. Now that I’m a dad, I wonder where he got the time.
Cat Stevens wrote a now famous song around those times called, “The Cats in the Cradle”. It tells the story of a father who is too busy to spend time with his children. He is too busy doing what he considers important. Unfortunately, he forgets to spend time with his son. The neglect of the son does not change the fact that the son exclaims with great pride as his father walks away, “I’m gonna be like HIM, ya know I wanna be like HIM”. The song ends many years later as the dad tells the son, quote, “I’d like to see you if you don’t mind.” To which the sons piercing reply is, “I’d love to dad if I can find the time”. When listening to the song, all fathers’ hearts ache with the closing realization: “As I hung up the phone it occurred to me, he’s grown up just like me…..my boy is just like me……..”
The longer I am a parent, the more my opinion of him improves. As I experience the struggles and pulls on my time and energy daily, my respect for him grows. You see, I always saw my parents as “my parents”. They did not have personal lives. They existed because I existed and needed someone to grow me up. That may sound silly, but it has some validity in my mind. Clearly this is childish thinking. However, childish thinking can permeate the way we see things. I may be a grown up on the outside, but there are times I feel like a little kid again.
Now I am the parent. I am responsible for the upbringing of my family. There are times when I am riddled with feelings of inadequacy. My lack of direction in my own life is nerve racking. I am unable to even have order in my own personal affairs at times. I struggle with even taking care of myself physically! I don’t exercise as much as I should, I don’t even eat right! I can be lazy at times at work and home. I do not feel up to the task. I wonder…………….. Did my father have these feelings? I do not have to be some kind of “good person” to forgive my father and have mercy on him for all his faults, and all the things he didn’t do for me when I was growing up. He is guilty of being a human being. By definition that means he has faults. Outside of the Lord Jesus himself, I haven’t met a man who has no shortcomings. Everyone who meets my dad likes him. He is a likeable guy! He has many good qualities. He has seven grown children out in the world on their own doing the best we all can now. He made that possible together with my mom. He’s done the best he can with what he had. Can I be critical about the way he raised us? Sure I can. The difference is I no longer want to be. I want to look at the blessings instead. I am a blessed man. My father has played a role in me becoming who I am. I am grateful for him being there for me when I needed him most.
Somewhere else in America year-2006…………………
“You guys simply cannot beat me.”
“Yeah sure dad…..we beat you before!” says one of my three teenagers as we finish a board game at the dining table. We’ve been playing games all afternoon. A familiar song comes on the CD player,
“A child arrived just the other day, he came to the world in the usual way, but there were planes to catch, and bills to pay, he learned to walk while I was away…………………..” Everyone knows the words and they are singing along or mouthing the words…..it’s a classic. I grab my son as he is walking by and playfully say to him with a hint of concern in my voice, “I hope I’m not like the dad in this song. Mike, is this song true for you?”
“No of course it isn’t dad”. Says Michael…………”Well it is true that I wanna be like you!”……………………………………… As he said that I thought about my dad. Just then it occurred to me, “My boy is just like me, my boy is just like me”……………………………
“Dad!! It’s gettin’ wicked dark! I can’t even see the ball anymore! Can we go home now?”
“Yeah, OK let’s go guys!” dad would yell to the three lanky boys. One of them is at the backstop/homeplate afraid he’s gonna get hit by a pitch from dad ‘cause he can barely see the ball anymore, and two in the field who get a little nervous when they hear the ball hit the bat……for the same reason. They’ve been at this for an hour or two now and all three of them are exhausted from chasin’ endless hits from one another as well as hitting endless pitches from dad. They all pile in the car and go home. No doubt there are more than a few lost baseballs scattered over the outfield this time. It just got too dark for the boys to find them. I was one of those three lanky boys. It strikes me as funny that we would complain about “playing” too much. Now that I’m a dad, I wonder where he got the time.
Cat Stevens wrote a now famous song around those times called, “The Cats in the Cradle”. It tells the story of a father who is too busy to spend time with his children. He is too busy doing what he considers important. Unfortunately, he forgets to spend time with his son. The neglect of the son does not change the fact that the son exclaims with great pride as his father walks away, “I’m gonna be like HIM, ya know I wanna be like HIM”. The song ends many years later as the dad tells the son, quote, “I’d like to see you if you don’t mind.” To which the sons piercing reply is, “I’d love to dad if I can find the time”. When listening to the song, all fathers’ hearts ache with the closing realization: “As I hung up the phone it occurred to me, he’s grown up just like me…..my boy is just like me……..”
The longer I am a parent, the more my opinion of him improves. As I experience the struggles and pulls on my time and energy daily, my respect for him grows. You see, I always saw my parents as “my parents”. They did not have personal lives. They existed because I existed and needed someone to grow me up. That may sound silly, but it has some validity in my mind. Clearly this is childish thinking. However, childish thinking can permeate the way we see things. I may be a grown up on the outside, but there are times I feel like a little kid again.
Now I am the parent. I am responsible for the upbringing of my family. There are times when I am riddled with feelings of inadequacy. My lack of direction in my own life is nerve racking. I am unable to even have order in my own personal affairs at times. I struggle with even taking care of myself physically! I don’t exercise as much as I should, I don’t even eat right! I can be lazy at times at work and home. I do not feel up to the task. I wonder…………….. Did my father have these feelings? I do not have to be some kind of “good person” to forgive my father and have mercy on him for all his faults, and all the things he didn’t do for me when I was growing up. He is guilty of being a human being. By definition that means he has faults. Outside of the Lord Jesus himself, I haven’t met a man who has no shortcomings. Everyone who meets my dad likes him. He is a likeable guy! He has many good qualities. He has seven grown children out in the world on their own doing the best we all can now. He made that possible together with my mom. He’s done the best he can with what he had. Can I be critical about the way he raised us? Sure I can. The difference is I no longer want to be. I want to look at the blessings instead. I am a blessed man. My father has played a role in me becoming who I am. I am grateful for him being there for me when I needed him most.
Somewhere else in America year-2006…………………
“You guys simply cannot beat me.”
“Yeah sure dad…..we beat you before!” says one of my three teenagers as we finish a board game at the dining table. We’ve been playing games all afternoon. A familiar song comes on the CD player,
“A child arrived just the other day, he came to the world in the usual way, but there were planes to catch, and bills to pay, he learned to walk while I was away…………………..” Everyone knows the words and they are singing along or mouthing the words…..it’s a classic. I grab my son as he is walking by and playfully say to him with a hint of concern in my voice, “I hope I’m not like the dad in this song. Mike, is this song true for you?”
“No of course it isn’t dad”. Says Michael…………”Well it is true that I wanna be like you!”……………………………………… As he said that I thought about my dad. Just then it occurred to me, “My boy is just like me, my boy is just like me”……………………………
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
A REFLECTION
Somewhere in America on an empty ballfield in the early 1970’s……………….
“Dad!! It’s gettin’ wicked dark! I can’t even see the ball anymore! Can we go home now?”
“Yeah, OK let’s go guys!”, dad would yell to the three lanky boys. One of them is at the backstop/homeplate afraid he’s gonna get hit by a pitch from dad ‘cause he can barely see the ball anymore, and two in the field who get a little nervous when they hear the ball hit the bat……for the same reason. They’ve been at this for an hour or two now and all three of them are exhausted from chasin’ endless hits from one another as well as hitting endless pitches from dad. They all pile in the car and go home. No doubt there are more than a few lost baseballs scattered over the outfield this time. It just got too dark for the boys to find them. I was one of those three boys……….
Cat Stevens wrote a now famous song around those times called, “The Cats in the Cradle”. It tells the story of a father who is too busy to spend time with his children. He is too busy doing what he considers important. Unfortunately, he forgets to spend time with his son. The neglect of the son does not change the fact that the son exclaims with great pride as his father walks away, “I’m gonna be like HIM, ya know I wanna be like HIM”. The song ends many years later as the dad tells the son, quote, “I’d like to see you if you don’t mind.” To which the sons piercing reply is, “I’d love to dad if I can find the time”. When listening to the song, all fathers’ hearts ache with the closing realization: “As I hung up the phone it occurred to me, he’s grown up just like me…..my boy is just like me……..”
Somewhere else in America year-2006…………………
“You guys simply cannot beat me.”
“Yeah sure dad…..we beat you before!” Says one of the three teenagers as they finish a board game at the dining table. They’ve been playing a couple different games all afternoon together. A song comes on the cd player. It’s a mix of many different songs by different artists. A familiar song comes on:
“A child arrived just the other day, he came to the world in the usual way, but there were planes to catch, and bills to pay, he learned to walk while I was away………………….. Everyone knows the words and they are singing along or mouthing the words…..it’s a classic. Dad grabs his son as he is walking by and playfully says to him with a hint of concern in his voice, “I hope I’m not like the dad in this song. Mike, is this song true for you?”“No of course it isn’t dad”. Says Michael…………”Well it is true that I wanna be like you!”………………………………………
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Who's Your Daddy?........................A short story.
When he woke up this morning, the thought of changing someone’s life didn’t enter his mind. He was more focused on just how to live through the day without eating too much food, or losing his temper “one more time” with his kids, or doing the right thing as far as his wife was concerned. He’s fallen into a rut with his approach to life. It gnaws at him slowly until it sucks the life out of him. Living to please others and make no mistakes just doesn’t work too well. It usually ends in doing all the things we strive to avoid.
More out of habit than any actual virtue, Mike gets on his knees as he crawls out of bed. His prayers have been pruned. They used to be long, asking for many things to work out certain ways and for God to protect his wife and kids, to get God to do what Mike wants God to do. Nowadays, Mike says so much more with so much less. “Lord, please remove my fears and direct my attention to what it is you would have me be. I pray that you grant me wisdom and knowledge of your will and the power to carry it out”. No plea’s for protection or for blessings and the like. He has come to a point of knowledge, (or is it wisdom?), where he “knows” God will protect his family. He knows God is in control of all things and will be intimately involved in directing each of his children’s lives. He knows his wife is in the palm of HIS hand; and he knows that he is too.
It is after this habitual movement of his that Mike snaps out of it and realizes again, for today, that following God is not going to happen by trying to “be good”. A true Christian is not a man trying to be good or follow rules from the good book. In fact, no man can decide to “be” a Christian. Mike is a Christian because he was chosen by God to be one. It is God who has directed him in his life, and it will be God who keeps him on the right path. All of his effort need not be given to trying to be good or do right. Instead, all of his efforts can go into striving after guidance. What will we be doing today Lord? Show me the way. All the asking for so many things from God have been whittled away, pruned from his prayers. The instrument used to wean Mike off of asking for things is trust. As this trust in the Father has grown, he has become more and more confident in HIS love for Mike. It is a matter of fact that his heavenly Father is always looking out for him at all times. Just as his own boy Danny used to hold his hand as they walked down the sidewalk; this tiny little palm with miniscule fingers attached to it, grasping his hulk of a hand in comparison as they stroll along. Not once did Danny think his daddy didn’t know where they were going, or that daddy would let his hand go and run away leaving him to fend for himself. Even the thought of it is absurd! There never was a question! Daddy helps me; daddy…. is my daddy! If daddy brings me somewhere it’s because I need to be there. I’m going wherever dad says!
Mike leaves the house this morning with exhilarating thoughts of who it is that God is going to put in his path today. He knows that lives can be changed today. People who come in contact with him can be changed for the better. Not because of who he is in and of himself, but because he is an ambassador of the one true God. Wherever he goes, God goes with him. Yes, he is confident that lives will be affected today. As confident as a little boy is that daddy loves him……………….
More out of habit than any actual virtue, Mike gets on his knees as he crawls out of bed. His prayers have been pruned. They used to be long, asking for many things to work out certain ways and for God to protect his wife and kids, to get God to do what Mike wants God to do. Nowadays, Mike says so much more with so much less. “Lord, please remove my fears and direct my attention to what it is you would have me be. I pray that you grant me wisdom and knowledge of your will and the power to carry it out”. No plea’s for protection or for blessings and the like. He has come to a point of knowledge, (or is it wisdom?), where he “knows” God will protect his family. He knows God is in control of all things and will be intimately involved in directing each of his children’s lives. He knows his wife is in the palm of HIS hand; and he knows that he is too.
It is after this habitual movement of his that Mike snaps out of it and realizes again, for today, that following God is not going to happen by trying to “be good”. A true Christian is not a man trying to be good or follow rules from the good book. In fact, no man can decide to “be” a Christian. Mike is a Christian because he was chosen by God to be one. It is God who has directed him in his life, and it will be God who keeps him on the right path. All of his effort need not be given to trying to be good or do right. Instead, all of his efforts can go into striving after guidance. What will we be doing today Lord? Show me the way. All the asking for so many things from God have been whittled away, pruned from his prayers. The instrument used to wean Mike off of asking for things is trust. As this trust in the Father has grown, he has become more and more confident in HIS love for Mike. It is a matter of fact that his heavenly Father is always looking out for him at all times. Just as his own boy Danny used to hold his hand as they walked down the sidewalk; this tiny little palm with miniscule fingers attached to it, grasping his hulk of a hand in comparison as they stroll along. Not once did Danny think his daddy didn’t know where they were going, or that daddy would let his hand go and run away leaving him to fend for himself. Even the thought of it is absurd! There never was a question! Daddy helps me; daddy…. is my daddy! If daddy brings me somewhere it’s because I need to be there. I’m going wherever dad says!
Mike leaves the house this morning with exhilarating thoughts of who it is that God is going to put in his path today. He knows that lives can be changed today. People who come in contact with him can be changed for the better. Not because of who he is in and of himself, but because he is an ambassador of the one true God. Wherever he goes, God goes with him. Yes, he is confident that lives will be affected today. As confident as a little boy is that daddy loves him……………….
Monday, February 06, 2006
As she was lying there on the bed,visible signs of torment eating away at her now frail body are evident. She may be a hundred pounds, but probably not. Her hair is almost gone. Just a few strands here and there, unable to hide her pale skull as she lies there in the bed sleeping.....or is it semi-comatose? The Cancer has been eating away at her insides for over a year. She only knew about it for the last few months. Two of her sons are standing over her as she lies there in the bed. She can't speak really anymore. The morphine dosage has been increasing daily now. She is out of pain they are told but there is no hope of survival. They are just keeping her out of pain as best they can. Both sons are holding her hands; one on the left, and one on the right. It's upsetting to both of them that she is now unable to communicate anymore. Both brothers are speechless themselves, suffering individually over the demise of their mom who is whittling away into nothing in front of their eyes over the Last week especially. All they can do is hold her hand. Both are full of emotion but unable to express it. It cannot be put into words; how it feels to watch your mother die who was at one time the rock, the glue that held the family together. Then it happened. She was looking at them now. They smiled at her. She mustered up her strength and squeezed their hands. This was encouraging. Then she did something else. She took her two sons hands and pulled on them. She brought them towards her. Both sons let her pull them in close to her in this show of strength on her part. As she brought them to her chest, she didn't pull them in to her body as they thought, instead she ever so slowly intertwined them together over her body. She was putting them together! She placed one brothers hand into the others. The two looked at each other and then to her. She had a pleading look in her eyes. It was clear; she was communicating after all. It was clear to this brother anyway. She wants us to love each other. Take care of each other as you grow. It was a powerful message; one that overwhelmed me! We held hands over her for perhaps a minute. We never really spoke about it after that, but it was clear to me that she was trying to convey to us that she wants us to care for each other because she will not be able to anymore. It's been 18 years since then. We are still in touch weekly by phone. I do love my brother very much. I often wonder if he remembers it like I do. If the message she was sending was as clear to him as it seemed to me. Maybe he wonders the same thing?...................
That's when she called me one day at work.
"Dan...............it's mum", she said.
"Hi ma. how'd it go?", I asked. Even while I asked I could sense something was wrong. Why was she calling me at work? She was supposed to be operated on today to fix this ulcer that was supposedly making her unable to eat without becoming feelings of nausea and many times throwing up. So why was she calling me so soon into the day? She wouldn't tell me over the phone. All she could say was that she wanted to talk to me in person and wanted to know when I got out of work..............can I come up to see her. Many thoughts ran through my head. What could it be? The worst it could be is cancer right? If she has cancer we can do something about it probably. Oh, God please comfort her through this. Please help me God. Please help me through this too. Help me to help her. I really don't remember much more of that day. It sort of jumps forward to me in the hospital room with her. I'm sitting with her on the bed. she is very serious in her tone. She tells me she has stomach cancer. They were not able to operate because it is too widespread throughout her body. They went in to fix the supposed ulcer and found cancer all over. They literally just closed her back up and brought her back to the room. I remember trying to be encouraging and not show her any fear or worry. I just wanted her to know I would help her through this. She seemed pretty resolved there was nothing that could be done.
Things changed those next few months. She went for some chemotherapy more for palliative treatment; to reduce the pain she was going to have as she died. She went about her life to some extent. I remember visiting her in the hospital shortly after her diagnosis and she had a bright red pocket-purse next to her. When I asked her why she said bought it 'cause she always wanted one but thought it too fancy to have......now she didn't care.....she was getting one before she died.
She didn't get real sick right away. Those chemo drugs are deadly though. They wiped her out when they did kick in. She had to get a tube put in her stomach for nutrition because she couldn't eat anymore without getting sick. If you knew her, you knew she loved to eat. She eventually also got a pain control machine she wore like a belt that could give her pain control too. In two months time it was Thanksgiving and she had been home a short while but unable to really do anything around the house. We had thanksgiving over there house. She couldn't eat with us, she couldn't make anything for us, she had no more eneergy and became simply frustrated and sad as they day went on. I seem to recall it was at this time she decided she would rather stay in the hospital than stay at home for the remainder of her illness. Back then you could do that! She was there through Christmas. I remember Christmas day. She mustered up all the energy she could to present herself as positive as she could to her family. We all went to visit her at differing times to see her and she was in a good mood for all of us. She started getting sicker right after that. The cancer was eating away at her insides at a rapid pace. She started hallucinating from the large doses of morphine she was recieving. Her stomach was bloated! It was huge! One day one of us went in and she said, "Guess what...........I'm having twins." We didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She was pleasant enough. Never mean or nasty, just losing touch with reality more and more. Her life had been reduced to trying to spit into the small emesis basin given to her by the nurse. For some reason it was important to spit. I don't know why. It had become her chore; what she needed to do every few minutes. As I was standing next to this woman, my mother,the one who raised me from a baby, the one who used to scare me at times with just a look, my duty was clear. I had to wipe her mouth after she attempted to spit into the basin and small white cotton-ball type foam would form on her lips. My duty was clear to me at that moment. "She did this for you"........"She did this for you when you were a babe". My duty was clear; I took care of my task with alacrity! There was nothing gross or disgusting about it. It's different when it's your own flesh and blood. It was just something that had to be done; in fact, it was my priviledge to do it; an honor you might say.
The doctor had told my dad it was a matter of days or weeks til she would die. There were seven of us so we kept an around the clock schedule so someone was always with her at all times. She became almost comatose for that last week of her life. We would go and visit and just sit with her and hold her hand, not much else. I remember going to bed each night that last week feeling kind of guilty asking God to please take her. This was not living to her; she was merely existing now day by day. She couldn't even speak anymore. Who knows how much morphine she was getting every hour now. We would bring the phone to bed each night because we knew it was just a matter of time...............
The phone woke me up. I don't even remember who it was on the phone. It was one of my siblings I think. She died not too long ago they said. Dad was there. "OK", I said. I almost went back to sleep. I told my wife next to me. I lay there feeling glad for her, sad for me, guilty that I felt glad she was dead. I was grateful her suffering was over. Of course I could not go back to sleep. The next week was a blur. Before I knew it the funeral was over she was buried and life was going on. My father was beside himself with grief. They were together for over 25 years and he was now alone. I couldn't even begin to imagine what he was going through. One thing that I remember from the end of her life is something my father told me. He said that he was sitting there next to her in the bed that night. Now mind you, she hadn't really spoken hardly at all for over a week. He said that all of a sudden, she sat up in bed wide-eyed and said, "There comin' for me!!"
"Who?", myfather asked.
"The angels.....there comin' for me!!" Not many hours after that she died. Perhaps we should say her spirit left her body and went to be with her Creator. I like to remember that story fondly because I too believe that this earth is not my home. My home is in heaven. I do not grieve her passing anymore. Even after the initial sadness of her dying wore off, I had a sense inside that she is not dead. She is alive in heaven with my King. I will see her again soon! Life is fleeting. Before I know it, I will be there too. While I am in no hurry, I am not afraid to die. To me it's more like a "going home" than a dying.
"Dan...............it's mum", she said.
"Hi ma. how'd it go?", I asked. Even while I asked I could sense something was wrong. Why was she calling me at work? She was supposed to be operated on today to fix this ulcer that was supposedly making her unable to eat without becoming feelings of nausea and many times throwing up. So why was she calling me so soon into the day? She wouldn't tell me over the phone. All she could say was that she wanted to talk to me in person and wanted to know when I got out of work..............can I come up to see her. Many thoughts ran through my head. What could it be? The worst it could be is cancer right? If she has cancer we can do something about it probably. Oh, God please comfort her through this. Please help me God. Please help me through this too. Help me to help her. I really don't remember much more of that day. It sort of jumps forward to me in the hospital room with her. I'm sitting with her on the bed. she is very serious in her tone. She tells me she has stomach cancer. They were not able to operate because it is too widespread throughout her body. They went in to fix the supposed ulcer and found cancer all over. They literally just closed her back up and brought her back to the room. I remember trying to be encouraging and not show her any fear or worry. I just wanted her to know I would help her through this. She seemed pretty resolved there was nothing that could be done.
Things changed those next few months. She went for some chemotherapy more for palliative treatment; to reduce the pain she was going to have as she died. She went about her life to some extent. I remember visiting her in the hospital shortly after her diagnosis and she had a bright red pocket-purse next to her. When I asked her why she said bought it 'cause she always wanted one but thought it too fancy to have......now she didn't care.....she was getting one before she died.
She didn't get real sick right away. Those chemo drugs are deadly though. They wiped her out when they did kick in. She had to get a tube put in her stomach for nutrition because she couldn't eat anymore without getting sick. If you knew her, you knew she loved to eat. She eventually also got a pain control machine she wore like a belt that could give her pain control too. In two months time it was Thanksgiving and she had been home a short while but unable to really do anything around the house. We had thanksgiving over there house. She couldn't eat with us, she couldn't make anything for us, she had no more eneergy and became simply frustrated and sad as they day went on. I seem to recall it was at this time she decided she would rather stay in the hospital than stay at home for the remainder of her illness. Back then you could do that! She was there through Christmas. I remember Christmas day. She mustered up all the energy she could to present herself as positive as she could to her family. We all went to visit her at differing times to see her and she was in a good mood for all of us. She started getting sicker right after that. The cancer was eating away at her insides at a rapid pace. She started hallucinating from the large doses of morphine she was recieving. Her stomach was bloated! It was huge! One day one of us went in and she said, "Guess what...........I'm having twins." We didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She was pleasant enough. Never mean or nasty, just losing touch with reality more and more. Her life had been reduced to trying to spit into the small emesis basin given to her by the nurse. For some reason it was important to spit. I don't know why. It had become her chore; what she needed to do every few minutes. As I was standing next to this woman, my mother,the one who raised me from a baby, the one who used to scare me at times with just a look, my duty was clear. I had to wipe her mouth after she attempted to spit into the basin and small white cotton-ball type foam would form on her lips. My duty was clear to me at that moment. "She did this for you"........"She did this for you when you were a babe". My duty was clear; I took care of my task with alacrity! There was nothing gross or disgusting about it. It's different when it's your own flesh and blood. It was just something that had to be done; in fact, it was my priviledge to do it; an honor you might say.
The doctor had told my dad it was a matter of days or weeks til she would die. There were seven of us so we kept an around the clock schedule so someone was always with her at all times. She became almost comatose for that last week of her life. We would go and visit and just sit with her and hold her hand, not much else. I remember going to bed each night that last week feeling kind of guilty asking God to please take her. This was not living to her; she was merely existing now day by day. She couldn't even speak anymore. Who knows how much morphine she was getting every hour now. We would bring the phone to bed each night because we knew it was just a matter of time...............
The phone woke me up. I don't even remember who it was on the phone. It was one of my siblings I think. She died not too long ago they said. Dad was there. "OK", I said. I almost went back to sleep. I told my wife next to me. I lay there feeling glad for her, sad for me, guilty that I felt glad she was dead. I was grateful her suffering was over. Of course I could not go back to sleep. The next week was a blur. Before I knew it the funeral was over she was buried and life was going on. My father was beside himself with grief. They were together for over 25 years and he was now alone. I couldn't even begin to imagine what he was going through. One thing that I remember from the end of her life is something my father told me. He said that he was sitting there next to her in the bed that night. Now mind you, she hadn't really spoken hardly at all for over a week. He said that all of a sudden, she sat up in bed wide-eyed and said, "There comin' for me!!"
"Who?", myfather asked.
"The angels.....there comin' for me!!" Not many hours after that she died. Perhaps we should say her spirit left her body and went to be with her Creator. I like to remember that story fondly because I too believe that this earth is not my home. My home is in heaven. I do not grieve her passing anymore. Even after the initial sadness of her dying wore off, I had a sense inside that she is not dead. She is alive in heaven with my King. I will see her again soon! Life is fleeting. Before I know it, I will be there too. While I am in no hurry, I am not afraid to die. To me it's more like a "going home" than a dying.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
I was in the bookstore yesterday. I was reading through some book I grabbed off the shelf and started reading one of the chapters about how today's church is out of touch. This guy is talking about how Christians of today are misreading the scriptures and not understanding how God changes with the times and how there is nothing wrong with this sin, or that sin, and on and on he went explaining his position based on false suppositions in the first place e! It made me mad! I then put the book back in disgust of how this man has no clue what he is talking about. It's like an electrician trying to explain to us all how plumbing works and why it is the way it is,....or vice versa. It was clear to me that this man does not understand even the basics of what makes a person a Christian. It annoyed me, so I put the book back and saw...........4 more books by the same man!! My goodness! This really ticks me off! I know instantly that this ticks me off because in my heart I have some envy, and jealousy. How can he write that many books when all he has to say is mostly garbage!........IMNSHO. So I'm thinkin to myself. How can he write that many books and I can't write one? So I ask you. Why have I not tried to write a book? I really want to yet seem to be held back from the task! I think I am like many people who think they should or could write a book. I seem to have this inner passion to write but am frustrated by not doing it. A man name D. Biggs whom I don't know, said a quote that I wrote down 6 months ago. " The biggest gap in life is the one between knowing and doing". This is where I find myself. What is stopping me? I guess it will never happen unless I DO it! Thinking about it gets me nowhere. I don't think I am unique. I believe I am one of many frustrated writers. I write this more as an appeal and admission of the truth that in some ways I am not doing something that is screaming inside of myself to do. Am I lacking motivation? Am I afraid of failure or success? Who knows!....do you have any ideas?
I appeal to you. I wonder if everybody has this desire in them to write or if it is only some people. I want to reach my full potential and feel that I do have something to contribute to the world through writing. Maybe my frustration with reading such trash will get me off the couch and away from the TV long enough to write.
Daniel M.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
I had a conversation in the car yesterday with my 16 year old daughter. I was beside myself with the level of wisdom she posesses. Where did she get it? She is so independent minded! She is strong in the faith. She knows the divine Creator and is a power of example to me of what a follower of Jesus is! How did this happen? I think it is because when we first had kids we knew we could not parent properly. It was this weakness in us that drove us to our knees. It was there and continues to be there that the battle for their souls has been won.
The thing I am most thankful for truly is that my children know who they are in Gods' eyes. They belong to HIM. This brings my heart peace. All three of my children are "on the ark". When you remember the story, everyone on the ark was saved and everything outside the ark was lost....forever. It is an awesome word picture. Jesus is that ark for us now. The question is...........are you on the ark? Are you trusting in Him and Him alone? I am on the Ark and so are my wife and children. I say this not with a cocky attitude but with an attitude of gratitude. I am grateful and thankful to be called one of HIS children. Thank you Lord Jesus for saving my soul. May all who read these words take refuge in the only one who can save both the body and the soul.
The thing I am most thankful for truly is that my children know who they are in Gods' eyes. They belong to HIM. This brings my heart peace. All three of my children are "on the ark". When you remember the story, everyone on the ark was saved and everything outside the ark was lost....forever. It is an awesome word picture. Jesus is that ark for us now. The question is...........are you on the ark? Are you trusting in Him and Him alone? I am on the Ark and so are my wife and children. I say this not with a cocky attitude but with an attitude of gratitude. I am grateful and thankful to be called one of HIS children. Thank you Lord Jesus for saving my soul. May all who read these words take refuge in the only one who can save both the body and the soul.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
I was done for the day. I had a very difficult 12 hour shift. I am exhausted and want to go home as I am off for 4 days! Before leaving I see the pile of paper given to me by the charge nurse. In it is what is called a "call back" form. This is spread through the floor to the nurses. We have a number and call someone back who was discharged just to see if everything is going ok, do they have any questions, are they taking their medications, etc., etc. WE have a general script of what to say in the case of things going well or not. I've never done this before but figure it will be easy. I call, and what sounds like an older man answers the line.
"Hello, this is Dan a nurse at NCH how are you doing today?"
"Who?!"
"Dan!( a little louder), I'm a nurse at Naples Community Hospital!"
"Oh. Yes. Hi"
"I was calling for a Simone? Is that your wife?"
"Yes...Yes it is." Before I can go into my questions of how everything is going and is there anything else we can do for you, he speaks again.
"She died on the 24th." I was struck dumb. I didn't know what to say! THIS was not on the script!
" I am so sorry to hear that," I managed to say.
"Yes. thank you. We left the hospital about a week ago, and she just kept getting worse. Finally I brought her back to the emergency room on the 24th but she just didn't make it. She died that day."
"I'm so sorry for your loss. Is there anything we can do for you?"
"No.......Life goes on ya know? I'm just hangin in there."
I didn't know what to say!! I felt bad for him and at a loss for words at the same time. I wanted to bring him some comfort.
"How long were you together," I asked feebly?
"Fifty years!" He seemed to answer with a sense of satisfaction.
"My goodness. So you've lost a big part of your life!"
"She was my whole life!" He said. This is where I could sense his voice cracking with emotion.
I wasn't sure what to say or how to say it. I offered him the only thing I truly have to offer. So I asked him a question.
"Are you a praying man?" I asked hesitantly, hoping for a yes in response.
"I try to but haven't been lately." He said.
"Could I offer up a prayer for you right now over the phone?"
Silence..........................
"Sir?.....Could I pray for you right now.......on the phone....with you?"
There was another pause. And then with a voice broken with the emotional strain of losing his life partner for some fifty years,.................he spoke.
"I sure would appreciate it yes."
I'd like to tell you exactly what I prayed but when I close my eyes and speak to God, especially when praying for another, I ask the Holy Spirit to pray through me to speak the words that the recipient needs to hear. One thing I do remember is coming alongside my fellow human being in anguish over the losss of the most important person in his life. That you Lord would somehow fill in the gap left by the loss of Simone. Please give him strength to go on now that she is gone.............There was more said.......but not much more..................amen
"Well, I sure do appreciate the call. Thanks for callin!"
"Well you hang in there sir".
"Oh I will. And thanks again for callin!", He said.
When I hung up the phone, I was struck with awe. I had the feeling I was used by the Creator to offer some form of compassion to a fellow traveller here on earth. It reminded me of the importance of my job. That I may be "just" a nurse, but our position is not simply to meet the physical needs of our patients, but to care for the whole patient. C.S. Lewis said once, "We do not have a soul. We ARE a soul; we have a body. It is my desire to be a nurse that does his best to meet the needs of my patients; physical, mental, and spiritual.
I'm glad I took the time to call him. It was a sobering way to end my shift and remember those things that are of utmost importance in life; the love of family.
"Hello, this is Dan a nurse at NCH how are you doing today?"
"Who?!"
"Dan!( a little louder), I'm a nurse at Naples Community Hospital!"
"Oh. Yes. Hi"
"I was calling for a Simone? Is that your wife?"
"Yes...Yes it is." Before I can go into my questions of how everything is going and is there anything else we can do for you, he speaks again.
"She died on the 24th." I was struck dumb. I didn't know what to say! THIS was not on the script!
" I am so sorry to hear that," I managed to say.
"Yes. thank you. We left the hospital about a week ago, and she just kept getting worse. Finally I brought her back to the emergency room on the 24th but she just didn't make it. She died that day."
"I'm so sorry for your loss. Is there anything we can do for you?"
"No.......Life goes on ya know? I'm just hangin in there."
I didn't know what to say!! I felt bad for him and at a loss for words at the same time. I wanted to bring him some comfort.
"How long were you together," I asked feebly?
"Fifty years!" He seemed to answer with a sense of satisfaction.
"My goodness. So you've lost a big part of your life!"
"She was my whole life!" He said. This is where I could sense his voice cracking with emotion.
I wasn't sure what to say or how to say it. I offered him the only thing I truly have to offer. So I asked him a question.
"Are you a praying man?" I asked hesitantly, hoping for a yes in response.
"I try to but haven't been lately." He said.
"Could I offer up a prayer for you right now over the phone?"
Silence..........................
"Sir?.....Could I pray for you right now.......on the phone....with you?"
There was another pause. And then with a voice broken with the emotional strain of losing his life partner for some fifty years,.................he spoke.
"I sure would appreciate it yes."
I'd like to tell you exactly what I prayed but when I close my eyes and speak to God, especially when praying for another, I ask the Holy Spirit to pray through me to speak the words that the recipient needs to hear. One thing I do remember is coming alongside my fellow human being in anguish over the losss of the most important person in his life. That you Lord would somehow fill in the gap left by the loss of Simone. Please give him strength to go on now that she is gone.............There was more said.......but not much more..................amen
"Well, I sure do appreciate the call. Thanks for callin!"
"Well you hang in there sir".
"Oh I will. And thanks again for callin!", He said.
When I hung up the phone, I was struck with awe. I had the feeling I was used by the Creator to offer some form of compassion to a fellow traveller here on earth. It reminded me of the importance of my job. That I may be "just" a nurse, but our position is not simply to meet the physical needs of our patients, but to care for the whole patient. C.S. Lewis said once, "We do not have a soul. We ARE a soul; we have a body. It is my desire to be a nurse that does his best to meet the needs of my patients; physical, mental, and spiritual.
I'm glad I took the time to call him. It was a sobering way to end my shift and remember those things that are of utmost importance in life; the love of family.
