{day 13} 'Not my will but Yours be done' Part 3 of 3

Around the bend we have come, from DNR* to morning exercises, Kip's dad had made a turn-around in the span of 24 hours. Another answered prayer. Joy came to us that morning after the night's weeping but we still didn't have all the answers.

Kip stayed at the hospital most of the day on Saturday, talking with therapists and doctors. It seemed like more than the usual amount of activity for a weekend. Yet, the family waited for the results of the biopsy and whether or not 'the game changer' had arrived.

On Sunday night at our family prayer time, I heard my husband pray, "Father, we desire Grandpa to be healed. My father is willing to submit to you, O Lord, and so I must follow in his example." A silent tear slowly crossed my daughter Meagan's cheek.

What I didn't know when I  saw that tear falling across my merciful-hearted one was that she had been a witness. Grandpa, who couldn't speak due to the trach** in his throat, had typed on his iPad during Meagan & Kip's visit earlier in the day, "I always pray 'Not my will but Yours be done.'"

It was a gift: this call to submit to God's ways. Sometimes He just acts, whether or not we like it. He doesn't ask our permission or explain His ways. But in this case, He gave us time to unclench our fists and release Clarence into His hands. He gave us time to finally pray, "Not our will but Yours be done."
.
I thought we were releasing him. I thought God, in His kindness, was calling Clarence home and preparing our hearts.

Yet, God's ways are not our ways. I was ready for what I thought God was doing. Instead, God was calling me to walk by faith, not by sight. The path remained the same, with its unexpected twists and turns.

Peace wasn't in smooth circumstances or a clearly defined path; it was in Him.

 That was the gift that He delivered that weekend: peace. Himself. Not a miracle. Not instant healing. Not a way out of suffering. He gave us Himself. "He Himself is our peace," Ephesians 2:14.

It is in the reflecting and recounting that I see this now -- the deep peace, the communion with Him -- was enough when the circumstances were dire.  I don't know if we recognized it then but that's okay. That day's charge was to walk the path in front of us. We did. Part of this day's charge is to remember that gift of peace when I submit fully to God. And submit this day like I did that day.

The path stayed uncertain for quite sometime. Yet, we were more okay with it. I see that now. We submitted to the Prince of Peace and received a peace that the world does not give.

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:33

*DNR means Do Not Resuscitate **trach means tracheostomy
 

Click here to read Part I of The Call to Deep Submission or here for Part II

Click here to read all the posts from the beginning.

* * *

This is part of the 31 Day series: 
The Clarence Chronicles: Lessons of Faith from the ICU

Click HERE to read Day 1, which links to all the posts in this series.

* * *

(day 12} The Gift of Deep Submission part 2

If you missed part I, you may want to read here first.

And so, we discovered that after 51 days in the hospital, Clarence had given up and was done trying. It was too much.

The medical roller coaster is tough -- ups and downs -- unexpected twists and turns. The waiting. All along there are questions of what to do. Each of us wants to do more -- the wife, the kids, the friends. Yet, no matter what we do, we still feel powerless because what he really needs is help breathing.

It seems like you should be at the hospital more. Ask more questions. Do something. But how long can you ask the children to stay in the lobby 'trying' to do their school work? Laundry needs doing. Bills need to be paid. And honestly, we all just need a break from the hospital scenery.

But, truly, the one in the crucible -- in this story it is Clarence -- doesn't get a break. Nor does his spouse. Because they are, after all,  "one flesh" of almost 50 years.

Still, we wonder if we could do something more. Did we give permission at the right time? We knew that if he lived, the interventions were all worth it. But what if we gave permission for all these interventions, and he didn't live? Questions lingered. Hope was walking a tightrope. It hadn't fallen, yet.

But this request from Clarence to no longer be resuscitated caused the hope to wobble hard. Did he have some inner knowing sign in his body that it was time? Time to face the inevitable? 

And so on this hardest of days and nights, we asked again for prayer. We received it, just like in the beginning when we truly began to intercede and also asked others to intercede on Clarence's behalf. As soon as we asked others to pray, more peace arrived in the midst of the up and downs. There was the anointing oil and the healing prayers.

This night we needed it, especially my husband Kip because he was sent to stay with Papa. Kay spent the night with their mom. I with my children. No one was alone.

Kip had never seen his  tough, determined father this discouraged before. Kip spent time straightening out details, such as the fact that Clarence had only been in the hospital for seven weeks and not six months. He showed him how much he had improved and how much he had to live for. I don't know what else he said to him or how the conversation went down.

But I know that in the morning Kip awoke between 4 and 5 a.m. to the sound of his dad doing exercises in his bed. "Weeping may last for the night but joy comes in the morning" was witnessed. He was such a different man that next day. So different that I felt a little crazy like I had dreamed up the drama of the day before.

 Weeping may last for the night but joy comes in the morning.

This was so true in this case. We rejoiced. We were a long ways from home, hope still felt fragile. But the sun was shining and our hearts were no longer quite as heavy as they had been the day before. The gift of deep submission was still around the bend. The best was yet to come. The path wasn't easy but it was worth it.

*  *  *

Part 3 will be continued on Day 13. 

Click here to read Part I or 

Click here to read all the posts.

* * *

This is part of the 31 Day series: 
The Clarence Chronicles: Lessons of Faith from the ICU

Click HERE to read Day 1, which links to all the posts in this series.

* * *

The Hardest Day or the Gift of Deep Submission (Part I) {day 11}

It was a gift. A gift of deep submission. "Not my will but yours be done."

Now, gift & submission do not normally go together in my book. Yet, today as I went on a thirty-minute walk and reflected on our family's journey last year, specifically my father-in-law being in the hospital for 128 days when we thought he would be in & out in two days, now I saw the call to deep submission as a gift.

Not everyone is given time to submit. Sometimes the trial is thrust upon you whether you submit to it or not. Ready or not, here it comes.

The gift of submission was given to us on The Hardest Day. Well, that makes sense, doesn't it? Because submission is never easy. We had been in the trial -- on the crucible -- for quite some time.

It was late enough into the Trial of Hospital Visits that the car could've driven to the hospital by itself. I was comfortable with my way around the hospital. So much so that one day two different people asked me if I worked there.  They didn't believe me when I said no. So obviously, I looked comfortable around those parts.

When I walked into my father-in-law's room that day, there was evidence of blood in his lungs and in his urine.My mother-in-law always had the doctor's talk to one of 'us kids.' Today it was my turn.. The doctor was concerned that,  in addition to the complications of his surgery, he might also have lung cancer.

"This is a game changer." It was also Friday. The earliest we would know the results of the biopsy would be Monday. 

My mother-in-law had just sat down in the lobby. I was opening my mouth to tell her what the doctor had told me about the potential lung cancer when Clarence's nurse walked up. He told us that Clarence had repeatedly requested to not be resuscitated today. The nurse told us that he had reassured Clarence that that is exactly what he would do, but to us he said, "Clarence has a full code on his chart. Legally, I am bound to resuscitate him."

He encouraged us to have a family discussion.

My mother-in-law and I looked at one another. I told her about the potential of lung cancer. The two of us went into his room to ask the dreaded question. The bright sunshine filling the room contrasted with the heaviness we felt in our hearts.

She paced awhile. He looked like he was asleep. She spoke, "You awake?" He communicated that he was.

She paced some more. "Kathleen, I don't know how to do this."

"Tell him what the nurse told us. Ask him if it's true."

She sat down. She took his hand and finally asked him if he'd asked not to be resuscitated. He vigorously shook his head, "Yes." She collapsed her head on his chest and wailed, "Oh Clarence, how can I?"

Tears streamed down my face. I don't remember much more of what we did after she asked the question. I do know that eventually we got up, left the room, and made a game plan. She wanted to call her only daughter, Kay, and asked me to call her five sons, including my husband.

This was My Hardest Day. It would be my husband's Hardest Night. And it would eventually lead us all to the deep gift of submission and the best gift of all in the mighty sea of medical unknowns.

 (Story is continued on Day 12). 

 "Weeping may last for the night, But a shout of joy comes in the morning. "

Psalm 30:5

* * *

This is part of the 31 Day series: 
The Clarence Chronicles: Lessons of Faith from the ICU

Click HERE to read Day 1, which links to all the posts in this series.

* * *

.