Through

In our 21 years as missionaries, one of the scripture passages that I have repeatedly come back to is this one:

Isaiah 43:1-2
Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass THROUGH the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass THROUGH the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk THROUGH the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.”

***

Looking back over these past four months I can see that subconsciously I fought hard to avoid accepting this illness. Thyroid, some other neurological problem, anything! I just didn’t want to have ALS!

Now, I can see that I was in major denial, one of the beginning stages of grief.

Someone has said, “The only way out of grief is THROUGH.” And now I know it’s true. I must go THROUGH.

THROUGH…

I didn’t want to, but a couple of really hard days physically, the unstoppable tears, and the guidance of a loving brother made me realize that I was already well into the tunnel of grief.

What’s amazing is that through the years, I’ve taught many young people about the grief process. I’ve told them that grief is a God-given process to help us adjust to the big changes in our lives. I have encouraged them to experience every stage of grief, but not to get stuck in any of them. Isn’t it ironic that I didn’t recognize my own grieving process? ☺

Two weeks ago, while traveling alone, I finally had to acknowledge that I felt restless, sad, unfocused, confused, and emotionally exhausted. I was on my way to Pennsylvania to see my new grandbaby, and I was excited to see her and her 22-month-old sister, but in my own situation I felt overwhelmed.

It was my brother Daniel who would be picking me up at the airport, so I called him during my layover. “I’m warning you that when I land I’m going to unload on you. Is that okay?” “Sure!” he said. Daniel and I are almost like twins in our thoughts and feelings so I knew that I could pour everything out to him and he would help me sort it out.

We were barely in the car when I started:


“I’ve always been so happily involved in our ministry; but now, my plans, dreams and goals have all vanished. Daily I just cook meals, do errands, and rest. I don’t have the energy to do anything else. I feel useless, like I no longer have a purpose.”

“I wish so much I could spare Jim the pain of this whole thing. Every time we talk I can hear it in his voice. If this disease develops, he’s going to have the load of caring for me. I hate the thought of being a burden on him.”

“How does God choose who he heals, and who he doesn’t, anyway?”

“It’s so frustrating that my tongue is slow. It’s difficult to talk clearly. Sometimes I see strangers straining to understand me. I hate sounding like an idiot.”

“I feel like my body is in a slow downward spiral and I can’t stop it. I’ve had more muscle spasms than ever, a slower tongue, waves of profound fatigue, a feeling of tiredness in my torso, and even some difficulty walking.”

“I feel so draggy. I don’t want to do anything.”

“I wish I had never started that blog. Up until now I’ve felt so victorious, and now I feel anything but victorious. What am I going to say next time I write?”

***
My wise brother just waited and let me pour it all out, then he gently helped me see that I was well into my grieving process. He assured me that it was okay to cry, doubt, question, and feel self-pity. He reminded me that God has a plan for both me and Jim. He also said, “You DO have a purpose. God has called you to suffer. That’s a high calling and God evidently knew he could trust you with such an assignment. People need to see how a godly person suffers.” He urged me to continue to be totally authentic in my blog. He listened, he cared, and he helped me tremendously.

At the end of the hour-long ride, I already felt better; but in the two weeks that followed, a deep emotional healing began. I began to feel like myself again. Those two precious little girls were more than a lift for my spirits. In fact, during the heaviness of this month, significant help has come from my favorite little people. I now have five grandchildren under the age of five. They don’t even know it, but they are helping me THROUGH.


Elliana (22 mo.) and Jolene (2 weeks)



Micah (almost 5 months)



Levi (3) and Reuben (4 1/2)


One more thing: Within days of my June diagnosis, we received a CD from our friends Don and Evie. They encouraged us to listen to the song “THROUGH.” Here are the very fitting words:


THROUGH
(Words and Music by Gloria Gaither, William J. Gaither & Michael Sykes)

When I saw what lay before me
“Lord,” I cried. “What will you do?”
I thought He would just remove it
But he gently led me through
Without fire, there’s no refining
Without pain, no relief
Without flood, there’s no rescue
Without testing, no belief
Through the fire, through the flood
Through the water, through the blood
Through the dry and barren places
Through life’s dense and maddening mazes
Through the pain and through the glory
Through will always tell the story
Of a God whose power and mercy
Will not fail to take us through.

Would you like to hear the song? My friend Janet sent this link. You can hear the Gaither Vocal Band sing the song if you cut and paste this link into your browser: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmKSY12hclQ

Here's the bottom line:
WITH GOD'S HELP, and only with his help, WE WILL GET THROUGH THIS!

mm