A Long Musing

To say the past two months have been eventful would be woeful understatement. My husband suffered a severe attack of gall stones and pancreatitis in early October that resulted in three weeks in the ICU, multiple scans and tests, two surgeries, two hospital stays and the loss of about twenty pounds or more and counting. He still isn't home, in fact; he is recuperating over at his mother's, not far from our home, where it is far more peaceful than a house full of children, music lessons, and the cacophony of our daily routine. The plus here is, of course, that he is recuperating. The pace is ... slow. It's like waiting for seeds you've planted to sprout. I check on him and talk with him daily, watching for those tiny green promises of progress. They are there, but it's early spring, the soil is cool, and progress on some days seems imperceptible.

I've thought long about what this experience has done to/for our family, Justin, and me. My children have weathered this remarkably well, I think, due in no small measure to family members and good friends who have stepped in to help us. They have watched others bring in meals, nearly daily through the first two and a half weeks when I was spending all of my non-teaching, non-parenting time at the hospital. My children have gotten to know my parents much better thanks to many hours spent in our home teaching them to better organize and take care of their belongings, including learning to let go of Stuff they really didn't need. Owen, Evan, Bronwyn, and Liam have all stepped up a little more to be helpful, and they have paid more attention to how I am doing, looking for opportunities to give Mom "Special Treatment." That involves bringing all available candlesticks and candles to my room, lighting them, putting on soft classical music, and then reading me stories while someone else rubs lotion onto my hands and feet. The first time they did that I fell asleep. Talk about bliss!

I'm not sure what Justin has gotten out of this experience so far. I think for most of it he has been too sick for philosophical contemplation. I, on the other hand, have had an abundance of time to think about this experience. There are the expected hard things: stress and worry over Justin's condition, his care, how long the hospital stay was going to be, financial concerns; long hours away from home; struggling to organize my family enough to be able to accept the heartfelt offers of service -- I was so grateful for those offers, but with so much uncertainty about Justin's condition or what the new day would bring, that I struggled mightily with a concrete answer to how someone could give the service they were truly ready to give. I felt lucky to figure out what would be needed in the next hour myself. Continuing to ask for help is hard. As Justin's health has improved only enough for him to leave the hospital, I've needed ongoing assistance with getting our two oldest boys to and from school (they attend a school about thirty minutes from home) because my husband always took them. Our bishop (the ecclesiastical leader of our congregation in my LDS ward) has even helped with taking them in two mornings a week, arriving at his own office an hour early on those days in order to get my boys where they need to be. As the challenge of this carpool continues it gets harder to ask again on Sunday, "Can we continue the carpool this week?"

In spite of the challenge, though, there have certainly been the blessings. We have been blessed with terrific medical care. I've been so impressed with those who watched over him in the hospital: the G.I. specialist who completely rearranged his afternoon clinic schedule in order to provide an emergency procedure for Justin, the ICU nurses who felt like adopted family members (I actually cried the day Justin left the unit because I knew how much I would miss them), the ICU floor doctor who stopped by daily to see how Justin was doing and offer encouragement, his skilled surgeon, his awesome family practice doctor. And that's just the beginning. Justin's sister Keli is due for sainthood for the many hours she spent with Justin, looking for ways to help him be more comfortable. She probably spent more time with our two oldest boys than I have as she has helped with carpool. We've had known and anonymous gifts of food and money. Neighbors have brought in meals or invited us over for dinner at their home. And there are the many queries wherever I go about how Justin and our family are doing.

Early on I had a conversation with a very close friend and we talked about why the Lord allows these hard, even painful things to happen to us. I have thought often back on our conversation. Part of me has wondered why He chooses to intervene with the fantastic miracle in some instances, but not in others. C.S. Lewis spent an entire book discussing this in his The Problem of Pain (amazing reading, if you haven't already done so). One of the most important lessons I have figured out through all of this is that first of all, we all signed up to come to this earth and have a mortal experience, to try out these bodies of flesh and bone and learn how to master them. To learn about powerful emotions and how to discipline them. To learn compassion and empathy for others through our own hardships. And if God stepped with a glorious miracle every time this Mortal Experience became painful and hard, then the whole point of our being here is lost. It would no longer be our own experience. I don't believe, however, we have to trudge along alone. That also is a lesson we must learn. We are meant to have this M.E. arm in arm with others and, most importantly, with God's assistance. We have to learn that we will only truly be masters by putting our hands in His and humbly asking Him into our lives. And when we do that it's no longer just a M.E. (Mortal Experience), but an M.M.E. (Miraculous Mortal Experience), the miracle being accepting God's love and assistance, and then recognizing and acknowledging Him when He does offer His tender mercies.

It's not over yet. Justin is scheduled for another surgery this coming Tuesday. I am oh so weary, but we'll carry on just a bit further, looking for taller green sprigs of promise as we go.