When Your Husband Has a Heart Attack on Your Birthday, but You Can’t Blab to the World About It Because You’ve Given Up Social Media for Lent

You know what they say. “If you want to make God laugh, make a plan.” I had a plan for my sixty-seventh birthday on February 24.

My sister and I had just spent a hurried and exhausting four days sorting and packing our mother’s belongings in preparation for moving her into a care home. Mom, who lives with dementia, had been on the waitlist for 15 months. Yet, when the call finally comes for these spots, you’re required to move fast. When check-in day arrived, Sis and I stayed for lunch with Mom at the care home, saw that she was settled in, and returned to our respective homes.

Mom at her new digs.

That evening, Hubby and I attended our House Church meeting, where we enjoyed a birthday trifle in honor of him and me and our friend John, all celebrating in the next few days. Although much business and packing remained for Mom, I told the group that after our whirlwind four days, I planned to spend my birthday (the next day) with my feet up, reading my new Sarah Sundin novel.

I can always lose myself in Sarah's books.

My birthday started as a normal Tuesday morning, enjoying a cup of coffee and writing in my prayer journal at my desk while Hubby prepared to go to work. I was packing his lunch when he told me he was experiencing weird pain in his chest, shoulder, and arm. As an amputee who often feels discomfort in his remaining, overworked arm, this wasn’t unusual—only a bit different. I advised him to call in to work sick, then rest on the couch and see what unfolded. He did.

I went out to warm up the car and shovel the sidewalk, all the while ranting to God. “Seriously, God? Today?” My sister and her hubby were catching a flight to visit our other sister for a few days. If Hubby’s situation turned out to be serious, I should consider asking Sis to cancel her trip so she could be around for Mom. But if it turned out to be nothing, I sure didn’t want to spoil her trip and waste her money! What should I do?

When I returned to the house, Hubby informed me that the care home had called and I should call them back. I did. The nurse assured me that Mom was fine but had taken a fall while reaching for her walker. Again, the line, “Seriously, God?” sprang to mind. I decided I should go check on Mom, but first I stopped by her vacated apartment to grab a couple of items she needed. While there, I got a call on my cell phone. The telephone company, with whom I’d arranged for Mom’s phone to be hooked up at her new place, called to clarify a few things. Seriously? As we talked, it seemed to me that the person I’d spoken with the day before had gotten almost everything wrong that he could get wrong. Frustration mounted.

At the nursing home, Mom was doing fine and even remembered it was my birthday. I stayed only a few minutes, then called Hubby. He was still feeling the same. So, I returned home, loaded him up, and headed for the hospital. Both of us were expecting to be told we had nothing to worry about, but I texted our House Church group from the ER waiting room to let them know what was going on.

My birthday ticked on.

After running numerous tests, the doctors told us Hubby’s blood pressure and heart rate were good. But the protein marker in his blood that can signify a heart attack seemed high. They wanted to retest it in two hours. Still confident that we’d be sent home after that, I made the five-minute walk to Mom’s apartment and spent the interval packing. (I’m a task-oriented person, and frankly, having something like that to work on was far more helpful to both Hubby and me than sitting in the ER. I guess no one will ever praise me for being the “she-never-left-his-side” type.) While I worked, our daughter called to wish me a Happy Birthday. Still convinced that her dad’s situation would prove to be nothing more than a frustrating annoyance, I filled her in.

By the time I returned to the hospital, the second test results were in, and the decision had been made to admit Hubby. The protein marker had spiked during the two hours. “Your husband is having a heart attack,” the doctor told me. Is having. Not had. “It’s not the big scary kind, but it’s still a heart attack.” They wanted to be able to monitor him until he could be taken to the city for an angiogram—possibly not until Friday. (“Seriously, God?”)

I stayed a while longer, then headed home to throw together a bag for Hubby. While I was home, Amanda from our House Church stopped in with food, birthday treats, and instructions to take a hot soak before bed with the bath salts she’d placed in the gift bag. Our elder son stopped in with a gorgeous birthday bouquet and a hug. I put up my feet until Hubby called to say he was finally settled into a room, then returned to the hospital with his stuff.

Finally home again after visiting hours ended, I texted my sisters, now together, to tell them about my crazy birthday. I took Amanda’s advice and enjoyed a hot soak in the tub, a favorite TV show, my flowers, and some chocolate before falling asleep. It was a birthday to remember.

I spent the next four days rotating between the hospital, Mom’s care home, and her apartment, where I continued to organize her things. When Hubby finally went to the city hospital by medical transport on Friday morning, a snowstorm was brewing. (Seriously, God?) The highway was closed by that afternoon, so he didn’t return to our local hospital until after visiting hours. We didn’t see each other at all that day, but the news was mostly good. The angiogram revealed no need for a stent. It did, however, increase the mystery as to why this happened. The following day—on his birthday—Hubby was discharged with prescriptions for four medications and a blood pressure cuff, and orders for no driving or lifting for a week.

Proof that Jon was in the hospital on my birthday and his.

As I write this, five weeks have passed. Hubby has returned to work. Mom has continued to need help adjusting to her new life. One of my brothers has required my assistance, while another is in a battle for his life against cancer and is on our hearts and minds constantly. It seems like a lot.

Still, I’ve had time to ponder this series of events and to consider some of the “coincidences” leading up to them. I place the word in quotes because I don’t believe in coincidence. I believe in God’s foreknowledge and in His care for me. Even though I don’t understand why things were allowed to happen, I can see these attributes of His colliding on my behalf. So, as I meet with Him each morning, I record in my journal these blessings as they come to mind:

·         For the first time in years, I had no imminent writing deadlines. Not that I could have put my mind to writing anyway, but I didn’t need to. By the time an email arrived with an easy editing deadline, life had begun to settle down again.

·         Also for the first time in years, I was not working on a new book—with or without a deadline. No pressure to write niggled at me, not even the self-imposed kind.

·         Before I knew any of this was going to happen, I had given up social media for Lent. This meant that the pressure of posting my daily scripture memes and engaging with others, as well as the time-sucking scrolling, were both off the table during a stress-filled time.

·         As it turned out, Mom’s phone was not hooked up for four days. Once it was, and she began calling numerous times a day, I realized what a gift those days had been. While I could visit her, the fact that she couldn’t call me was helpful. I knew she was safe and the staff would call me if anything came up. They’d already proved it that first morning.

·         In the writing world, this was contest season. I had received repeated requests to judge two contests that I’d judged for many years. For reasons I couldn’t name, I had not volunteered this year. I just had a “sense” that I was to take a break. Now I know why.

·         A month earlier, I’d volunteered to trade hosting dates with another House Church member for no other reason than we anticipated a low turnout that week. We have a small house and can’t accommodate the whole group.  Had we not traded, our turn to host and organize the meeting would have fallen on the same day we moved Mom into the care home.

There’s more, some of it too personal to share. I’m learning to take note of these sometimes weird little blessings that one doesn’t realize are blessings until hindsight reveals them. I hope to make a habit of recording them and sharing them when appropriate, because this is the stuff that can grow our faith, increase our trust in God’s timing, and solidify our knowledge of His love and care. Seriously.

“I will never leave you nor forsake you.” Joshua 1:9

Sundays in Psalms: How to Drown Your Enemies

 

I will be glad and rejoice in you; I will sing the praises of your name, O Most High.  My enemies turn back; they stumble and perish before you.

—Psalm 9:2-3 NIV

 

Without fail, I leave church on Sundays feeling lighter than I felt walking in. Sometimes, it’s due to an uplifting sermon. Sometimes, it’s a conversation with a friend, their encouraging words, and a hug. Other times, it might be because someone took a moment to hear what’s on my heart and pray with me. Most often, it stems from lifting my heart in worship alongside other believers. All of those pull together to make attendance worthwhile, even though I could enjoy the live-streamed service from the comfort of my couch.

In Psalm 9, David goes back and forth from praising and worshipping God to declaring God’s judgment on his enemies—sometimes with brutal, violent language. It might seem like a strange way to arrange a song. I think the modern-day psalmists understood when they wrote the contemporary lyrics stating that “praise is the water my enemies drown in.”*

I can feel weighed down by the enemies of discouragement, guilt, or anxiety—whether stemming from events in the world around me or whatever’s happening in my own heart and body. But when I begin to praise God, my attention is focused on the only One who can defeat all those enemies. Praise and fear cannot co-exist. Praise and bitterness cannot co-exist. Praise and envy cannot co-exist. Worship becomes a God-given weapon we can use to defeat every foe, even—or maybe especially—the ones no one sees. 

Action Step: Next time you’re feeling defeated, pull up some worship music and sing along with all your heart, despite your feelings. See if your enemies don’t flee.

 

*From Praise by Elevation Worship, written by Steven Furtick, Chandler Moore, Brandon Lake, Pat Barrett, Cody Carnes, and Chris Brown.

Sundays in the Psalms: What's under your feet?

 You made them rulers over the works of your hands; You put everything under their feet: all flocks and herds, and the animals of the wild, the birds in the sky,    and the fish in the sea, all that swim the paths of the seas.

—Psalm 8:6-8 NIV

 

The eighth psalm normally evokes visions of glorious starry skies or sunrises. Images of beautiful wild animals roaming free. Majestic horses galloping along a shore or an eagle soaring high. Playful kittens with a ball of yarn or lambs frolicking in the sunshine. These words and the pictures they inspire remind us that God has placed us humans in a significant position between all this and His angels, giving us a certain measure of authority over His other creatures. These words also serve to point us to God’s majesty displayed in creation, as they should.

I was surprised, though, to see an entirely different vision in my mind’s eye as I read these words recently. Instead of beauty, countless piles of garbage filled my periphery from horizon to horizon at a landfill site. Trash floating in the ocean, killing sea life and destroying the beauty God created. Smokestacks releasing toxic fumes into the air we need to breathe. When these visions are superimposed over the words of this passage, we’re reminded of how woefully we’ve taken care of what God entrusted to us. No other creature in the entire kingdom could or would do what mankind has so carelessly managed to accomplish. The stark contrast helped me see anew our incredible need for a savior, both personally and collectively.

Questions for Reflection: Am I doing all I can to reduce the amount of garbage I produce? Do I take my God-given responsibility of caring for the earth seriously?

Sundays in the Psalms: The Kids are Watching

PSALM 7

Whoever digs a hole and scoops it out
    falls into the pit they have made.
The trouble they cause recoils on them;
    their violence comes down on their own heads.

—Psalm 7:15-16 NIV

While visiting her parents for the holidays, Kim was driving around her hometown with her mother in the front seat and her two children in the back. Frustration grew as her mom played the side-seat driver, sucking in air between her teeth when she thought Kim was about to pull out in front of an oncoming vehicle. 

In reality, Kim had grown competent at driving in a big city, where a single hesitation often meant a long, unnecessary wait. Resentment began to simmer. When her mother asked her to make a quick stop at a friend’s house to drop something off, Kim pulled in front of the house on the left side of a two-way street.

“You can’t park like this.”

Her mother’s admonishment was the last straw.

“Mom. I don’t care!”

Her mother jumped out of the car to drop the item into her friend’s mailbox, declaring that she wouldn’t pay the fine if Kim got a ticket.

No ticket was forthcoming, but within twenty-four hours, both of Kim’s children—at separate times—repeated the words she’d thrown at her own mother, right down to the exact hand gestures: “Mom, I don’t care!”

Fortunately, Kim had the self-awareness required to see herself reflected in her children’s words. If they weren’t allowed to speak to their mother that way, why was she? Her mother received—and offered—an apology the following day, and lessons were learned by all.

Questions for Reflection: How quick am I to recognize when I’ve fallen into a pit of my own digging? How quick am I to be a "side-seat driver?"

Sunday Psalms: Feeling Peckish?

 

Have mercy on me, Lord, for I am faint;
    heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony.
My soul is in deep anguish

—Psalm 6:2-3a NIV

 

In the margin of my Bible beside Psalm 6:2-3 is a note. It simply says “June 22, 2012.” Even those nearest me could not guess what was going on that day. But whenever I see it, I know. Having been diagnosed the prior year with a chronic lung condition, I had sought a Naturopathic Doctor to help me get healthier. After working with me several weeks, she put me on a three-day water fast. The day before the fast, I was to eat nothing but fresh fruit and vegetables. Then, nothing but water for three days. She gave me other rules, too. Lots of rest, reading, and reflection. No driving. Don’t stay alone.

The first day, I felt hungry. The second day, I felt hungry and weak. By Day Three, I was convinced I had coincidentally contracted the flu. Every muscle in my body ached, my head pounded, and I couldn’t always keep down the water. I couldn’t sleep. Later, I learned these symptoms can be a normal part of the process when your body rids itself of toxins. They disappeared once I began to eat, and for the next week, food had never tasted so delicious. The experience was humbling in a way I had not predicted. I realized how needy I am for that daily bread I take so for granted. I came away with a much deeper compassion for those who must fight for every morsel of food, throughout their lives.

Question for Reflection: What is the longest fast I have done and how did it change me?

Sunday Psalms: Psalm 5 is not for night owls

 In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice;

    in the morning I lay my requests before you
    and wait expectantly.

—Psalm 5:3 NIV

Us in 1989

 

As a working mother of three, time alone with God seemed an insurmountable challenge. I’d read a verse or two from my Bible at bedtime when I could hardly keep my eyes open, then mumble a prayer as I drifted off to sleep. Then I attended a women’s retreat where the speaker challenged us to spend an hour a day in prayer, promising it would change our lives. It seemed she was asking for the moon. The only way I could see to make that happen was to rise an hour earlier in the morning. An extra hour meant setting my alarm for 5:30.

I did it. Crawling out of my warm bed when that annoying alarm went off was the last thing I wanted to do. Thankfully, we’d already learned to keep our alarm clock across the room, eliminating the snooze option. I made myself a cup of coffee and lit a candle, then plunged in. I discovered that by journaling my prayers first and reading scripture second, my eyes were opened to the cries of my heart before I feasted them on God’s word. His promises began to jump off the page and fill a need. Not every day. But often enough that the habit became something I wanted to do. Like returning to a good novel to see what happens next, I wanted to see what God had for me that day.

Thirty years later, I’m retired. Yet I rarely sleep past six, eager to continue this intimate relationship with my Lord.

 

Questions for Reflection: What steps am I willing to take to experience increased intimacy with God and let Him set the tone for my day?

Psalm 4: Skills Worth Honing

 

 

 Let the light of your face shine on us.

—Psalm 4:6b NIV

 

I led my church’s drama team for twenty years. In that time, I heard my share of memorized and mis-memorized lines, including from my own mouth. Because memorization is a key requirement for actors, I decided we could hone this skill and grow spiritually at the same time by spending a portion of our time together memorizing scripture. I chose Psalm 4. I wrote out all eight verses on a whiteboard and we read them aloud together. Then I erased one or two random words, leaving lines in place of the missing words. We read it aloud again, filling in the blanks. We repeated that process until nothing remained on the board but blank lines. My teammates were astounded that they could remember them. Any trick that helps us hide God’s word in our hearts is legitimate if it works.

Because our ministry was done from the stage and in the spotlight, we sometimes discussed and wrestled with our private motives. Were we in this for our own glory or for God’s? For us, one of the key points of Psalm Four became the last half of verse six. How much better to ask God to shine His light on us, reflecting His glory to others. That became our prayer each time we performed. 

Questions for Reflection: How can I challenge myself to memorize more scripture? In what ways can I apply that memorized wisdom to the difficult questions of my life?