Category Archives: Suffering

Special Delivery

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During the 6 weeks when Nate had cancer, we made almost daily visits to one pharmacy or another in an effort to secure the many drugs prescribed for him.

As the days passed, we sat in pharmacy drive-through windows longer and longer, arguing with insurance companies through pharmacy employees. “They said no more of these pills and only half of those.” As part of the larger health war we were fighting, these smaller skirmishes were necessary but draining, especially for Nate, who was often in the car feeling bad about  it all.

After Hospice entered the picture, they took our place on the front lines of all pharmaceutical battles, allowing us to step away, a tremendous gift. The drugs they prescribed came directly to our front door via FedEx’s daily visit. All the way to Nate’s last peaceful breath, the deliveries were always one step ahead of his need.

Jack, our usually-silent dog, always announced FedEx’s arrival with rude barking, so others in the family routinely beat me to the door to receive Nate’s prescriptions. But one day I made an effort to get there fist, wanting to apologize to the woman driver for Jack’s bad-mannered greeting.

“I’m sorry,” I told the tall, blond driver. “We’ve got a difficult situation inside, and the dog’s just nervous about everything.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” she said. “I love dogs. And really, he’s right. I’m not supposed to be in front of your house or even on your street.”

“What do you mean?”

“My instructions are to leave all FedEx deliveries at the mail house by the entrance to your subdivision where they sign for them, and that’s what I’ve always done for other people. But you really need what I’m delivering, and you’ve got better things to do than run up to the mail house. So here I am.”

I was astounded this young woman would take such a risk for us, maybe even jeopardizing her job. Her thoughtfulness impacted me deeply.

This morning as I sat in a prayer group of 4 ladies, I looked at the empty chair in our circle trying to picture the Lord in it, because of course he was. Much like the FedEx driver, he comes all the way to us, knowing we are in need of what he’s equipped to deliver. He goes the extra mile for us, aware that we’re often too depleted to even meet him half way.

Better than that, though, he can deliver a custom-made remedy for everything that ails us, from disease to debts, infections to infractions, sickness to sins. The FedEx lady could deliver only what she had in her truck; God can deliver the gamut, because he owns the whole warehouse.

And boy, can he can deliver!

“He will deliver the needy who cry out, the afflicted who have no one to help.” (Psalm 72:12)

Fast Friends for the Long Haul

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Like many women, I have a number of friends from long ago, relationships that are tried and true. Our one-on-one’s have stood the test of time and will last, we are sure, until death do us part.

I’ve spent the last couple of days with one of these gems, my friend Lynn. We first met as pre-teens at Moody Church during the Eisenhower years. By 1959 we were bonded in a way that has lasted through 52 years.

Lynn and I acted goofy in the early days. For example, we tried smoking when we found a package of Cools under a park bush. After running home for matches, we went back to the park, hid behind a hedge and lit up, swallowing the smoke as if it was a cool drink. It didn’t have much appeal.

We blistered our skin under a sun lamp, trying to get a winter tan. We drenched our hair with peroxide in an effort to go blond. We pulled bad-mannered pranks at the church camp.

But we did good things together, too. We learned to knit and turned out sweaters, hats, mittens and scarves. We supported each other through multiple boyfriends and ended up engaged within a year of each other. We married 9 months apart and were bridesmaids in each other’s weddings. Our husbands became good friends and were in the Army at the same time, though Don rose much higher in the ranks. We became grandmas the same year, and this week we enjoyed being together again… as always.

Life has become more tenuous these days. While Nate was struggling with cancer, Don was battling the aftereffects of a stroke. Rough knocks have gradually changed us, and we talked about how different our perspectives are these days compared to “before”, touching on each decade of our friendship.

We’ve accepted the difficult truth that God sends upsetting experiences our way for our ultimate good. His timing is significant, and he delivers crises based on what we can handle and no more. He has us on his mind continually and stays close through every decade. He’s loves us when we act goofy and forgives when we offend him.

In other words, he’s the perfect Friend.

Lynn and I thoughtlessly set God aside as teens. But this Friend, ever-patient, preserved us through those rocky years and waited for us to turn full-face toward him. Difficulties were part of the reason we did.

Today we howled with laughter in a read-aloud session of our high school letters, but the very best part of these two days has been our conversations about the Lord, his Word and his work in our lives.

When our years conclude as Nate’s have, one-on-one friendship with God will be all that counts.

“Since our friendship with God was restored by the death of his Son while we were still his enemies, we will certainly be saved through the life of his Son.” (Romans 5:10)

 

Breathing Easy

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While driving from Michigan to the Chicago area recently, I passed a boxy-looking white truck that said, “Medical Oxygen” on its side. It brought back a rush of feelings from 21 months ago, of the day Hospice knocked on our front door with an oxygen supply for Nate.

Jack barked with vigor that day, not wanting any harm to cross our threshold. Cancer had arrived silently, colorlessly, terminally, and he was on guard. I felt the same way: “Don’t open the door! No more strangers parading through! No more medical equipment dominating the environment! No more reminders of our life-and-death battle!”

But of course Van’s Medical Supply had only come to help. I shushed Jack and nudged him aside, allowing the oxygen tanks to roll in – one, two, three, four.

The delivery man kept up a steady stream of conversation as he went in and out, a kind attempt to soothe our frayed nerves. He assured us the equipment would be easy to use while my brain screamed, “You mean Nate isn’t going to be able to breathe ?!”

The tanks were wheeled past Nate, and the man greeted our patient cheerfully, like a friend. I can’t imagine what was in Nate’s head as he contemplated needing breathing assistance, but he didn’t let the stress show.

“Where should I put these?” the delivery man said. We settled on a tight corner behind Nate’s hospital bed. I can still hear the cold clanking of the 4 green tanks as he clustered them efficiently in the small, already-crowded room. My heart hurt that day contemplating Nate’s next slip downward.

Today the oxygen tanks are gone, as is the hospital bed and every other reminder of Nate’s killer illness. Nate is gone, too, but as I drove down the highway feeling sad, God reminded me that because Nate was gone, so was his need for breathing support. The cancer is gone, too, along with severe pain and approaching death.  Our dark night did end, slowly for us and dramatically for Nate.

Today we’re steadily moving forward, edging away from those agonizing days, not with reluctance anymore but with future-focus. Although a hopeful future was always there, in the darkness we just couldn’t see it.

When God allows life’s toughest stuff to dominate us for a while, he doesn’t leave us stumbling weakly without direction or purpose. Instead he equips us daily, much like Van’s Medical supply equipped us with oxygen before Nate needed it. When the need arose, we were ready, thankful for 4 green tanks in the corner.

In a way, that’s what God wants to be for all of us in every crisis. When we trust him to equip us for what will be needed, he causes us to breathe easier, despite being surrounded by calamity.

Breathe on me, breath of God,
Until my heart is pure,
Until with thee I will one will,
To do, and to endure. (Edwin Hatch)

“It is the Spirit in a person, the breath of the Almighty, that gives them understanding.” (Job 32:8)