The Journal: Working at Worry

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A year ago, as Nate’s back pain escalated but before we learned that his greater problem was deadly cancer, I was distraught with worry. During the night, questions overwhelmed me:

1.  Will the back surgery help?

2.  How long will the benefit last?

3.  Will he be able to keep working?

4.  How many surgeries will there be?

5.  And at the end of the surgeries, what will life be like for Nate?

6.  How much pain?

7.  Will he end up in a wheelchair?

8.  Should I go job-hunting?

9.  Will we have to move again?

Questions swirled like gathering clouds along Tornado Alley, ruining many a night’s sleep. When morning came, Nate would pursue the same routine he’d functioned in for 37 years, getting ready for work and climbing on a commuter train to get there. But what had been automatic gradually became a white-knuckle effort motivated only by his strong sense of duty. As we paced through the September days leading to the discovery of his cancer, Nate’s work days grew shorter, yet he remained resolute. “I’ve just got to work,” he said one morning when his pain was especially high. “It’s my job to provide.”

Deep down I believe he knew that if he quit, if he stepped away from the fast-paced working mentality of his Chicago routine, his pain would expand to fill the void. As much as he was looking forward to retirement, “going to work” was what he did best.

As for me, my spirits lifted when I knew he was able to work, because it meant his pain was manageable that day. It meant he could still fight the good fight. But what about my torment of worry during the wee-hours? What could be done about that?

Gradually both of us had made things worse, Nate by over-working his debilitated body and me by letting anxiety dominate. As Nate’s suffering had increased, we’d fallen for the lie that he and I were in charge, a ludicrous notion. The only thing I could think to do was to pray Scripture verses over our situation and over Nate. It would bring help to him and would remind me to “cast my cares on God.” (1 Peter 5:7)

I wrote the verses in my journal and prayed them through with pen and ink, hopeful God would intervene dramatically in Nate’s life and by that, in mine. Today, from the vantage point of one year later, I studied these same verses prayed a year ago in desperation and am utterly stricken by how God took the words literally and answered each prayer in a spectacular way.

From the journal:

“Cause Nate to wait on you, Lord. Renew his strength so he’ll be able to rise above the pain, to mount up with wings like an eagle. May he run in your strength rather than his own, escaping weariness, walking through this trial without fainting.” (Isaiah 40:31)

“May Nate quickly come to you, Lord, because he is laboring under heavy burdens. May he find the rest you’re offering.” (Matthew 11:28)

“Please protect Nate from all harm. Protect his soul from evil.” (Psalm 121:7)

“Please give Nate hope for a positive future, even a new beginning. Until then, give him courage.” (Psalm 31:24)

And according to these verses and many others, God did every bit of it with excellence….especially the part about Nate’s new beginning.

The Journal: His Plans or Mine?

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Toward the end of summertime a year ago, I had just finished unpacking after our move to Michigan that June. Because of Nate’s painful back, most of the shoving, rearranging and emptying of boxes had fallen to me, but we were both so pleased to be in our new peaceful setting with a smaller house that the work had been a joy.

By the end of that summer, we’d settled in and were looking toward Nate’s back surgery in September. He was working as much as his pain permitted, and I had an empty calendar, an enormous blessing after having been swamped with seven children and unnumbered volunteer commitments for the better part of our marriage.

That August (2009), my journal read: “The calendar squares of past years have had so much writing on them that some had to have flaps of paper taped on them because everything happening that day couldn’t be written tiny enough to fit on one square.”

In our new situation, I didn’t look at my calendar for days at a time, a true luxury. Life was becoming manageable: “Last week was the very last giant garbage pile in front of our cottage. This week we have only one big can and nothing standing next to it for the first time. So here I am, ready for a new phase of life.”

I had no inkling my “new phase” would be nursing a terminally ill husband, followed by getting used to life without him. At the end of that same entry I wrote a prayer: “I wait at your feet, Lord, for instructions, opportunities, your revealing of the path I’m to walk. Whatever it is, it’s all up to you. I want only to hear you clearly and make the choices that are within your will. Open my hearing to know for sure.”

I only had to wait a few days to “know for sure.” And there certainly was no ambiguity about “the path I was to walk.” But like countless other people thrown into crisis, every move we made, every decision weighed, every hour spent was with a desire to just get through it. There wasn’t time to think any more deeply than that.

But that’s the thing about following God’s lead. He’s done the thinking for us. He’s made the plans. He’s inspected the future. And according to what he’s seen there, he shows us the best way to go. We can either follow or go off on our own. It isn’t that we can’t think for ourselves or use the brain God gave us. It’s that the very best thinking we can ever do is incomplete and therefore not as good as God’s.

When my “new phase of life” arrived, it was something I never would have chosen. But God ordered my path, and so here I stand, gradually adjusting to being without Nate. It’s probably time for me to pray that same prayer again: “What’s next, Lord? What are your instructions? Your opportunities?”

The future looms, and God has already thought through my best options. Without doubt, he has important plans for me, and I intend to follow his lead.

“When you received the word of God… you accepted it not as the word of men, but as it actually is, the word of God, which is at work in you who believe.” (1 Thessalonians 2:13)

Predicting the Future

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I feel like I’m living in a crystal ball and have the ability to predict the future. That’s because I’m thinking about last year at this time and know what happened next.

On this date, October 20, Nate was two weeks from his death on November 3. We all knew the situation was severe, but none of us knew the end would come so soon.

I’ve been reading last year’s blogs, and today we were signing Hospice papers, including the most emotional one, a living will. Our children demonstrated great strength that day when I was feeling weak, stepping forward to sign as witnesses beneath their father’s signature on the document. Could there be any more difficult task in the life of a child?

As I’ve been remembering, I’ve also looked at the giant wall calendar from 2009 on which we jotted notes about each day, kept track of Nate’s appointments and recorded the names of visitors. Surprisingly, in examining the negatives, several striking positives have emerged:

1. First of all, as we’ve read our words, new waves of appreciation for Nate have washed over all of us. That’s definitely a positive. Once someone is gone, all petty grievances disappear. It becomes easy to focus on the good, and all of us are wholeheartedly thankful for Nate, without the slightest reservation.

2. The second positive result of looking back has been a giant-sized gratitude toward God, who repeatedly pulled us out of a sea of sadness and set our feet on solid ground. When everything around us was stormy, the Lord kept us calm, and that included Nate. He showed his involvement daily and kept every scriptural promise. He didn’t stop the cancer, but he held us close throughout the ordeal, and does so still.

3. A third positive is becoming aware of the progress we’ve all made. Today we’re all veterans of grief. It’s hard work, it lasts a long time, and it involves plenty of tears. But during the past 12 months each of us has increased in our understanding of what it’s like to mourn someone we love. We’ve also learned that the process includes times of well-being and peace, side-by-side with the sorrow.

4. Because of our experience in losing Nate, all of us can commiserate with others who’ve lost their husband and father, which is positive number four. We can say, “I know how you feel” and mean it. We can offer a shoulder to cry on and experience genuine sympathy for a hurting friend.

5. A year ago, our days were packed with problems, losses and emergencies. We had no time to process what was going on or think too deeply about it. The demands of each day called for putting one foot in front of the other and getting through “just barely.” Now, though, as life has regained routine, we have the time to ponder what really happened, an important positive. Putting events into slow motion to absorb their full impact is helpful.

6. And one last positive is our stronger focus on eternity. Part of last year’s October 20th post was the detailing of a new strategy: we decided that day to start talking about heaven. I wrote, “The time has come to shine a spotlight on his brightest hope.”

It’s true none of us lives in a crystal ball, but because we know the Lord, we can accurately predict that our separation from Nate is only temporary. The future sees us together again in heaven, and focusing on that is positive indeed.

”I give [my sheep] eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand.” (John 10:28)