Last night had me battling worry over our immediate future. Each day seems to bring a new problem for which I don’t have the answer. For example, today Nate’s hand began having blips of weakness when it would go limp for an instant and then recoup. Because of this, he spilled (onto himself) one glass of water, a whole cup of coffee (lukewarm) and his dinner plate. Hospice is wonderful in their knowledge, experience and willingness to teach me what to do, and our kids are eager to help. But during the night, as I lie alone in bed, the heavy-handed truth is that I’m the one running the show.

In the daylight I don’t doubt God will point to answers for every new issue that arises and that this will continue unendingly. During the night, however, I worry, hanging onto this truth by my fingernails.

This afternoon I needed something special from God, because tears seemed to continually wiggle just behind my eyes. Walking Jack the five blocks to the beach would help, I was sure, since getting a look at that wide horizon and meandering along the wave line has always been calming. I checked to be sure the boys would watch over Nate while I was gone, then leashed the dog and headed out.

All summer we walked to the beach in flip-flops, kicking them off at the base of a small dune on the way to the water. Today it was socks and shoes. I missed the feel of sand between my toes, and as I climbed the dune, shoes on, I thought of my favorite sandals, a gift from a good friend. They came from J. Crew, a place I never shopped, and were navy blue with “straps” of white and blue seersucker. The part between the toes was hot pink, and they were oh-so-comfy.

In a lifetime of coming to this same beach, I’d never lost a sandal. But last summer I’d returned to the base of the dune one day on my way home, and my beloved J. Crew sandals had been missing. I looked everywhere that day, but they weren’t to be found. It was a disappointment, and I credited some creative middle school kid with tossing them into the woods or the nearby creek as a prank.

Today, as I battled worry about what was ahead, my eye caught something bright in the sand. It was a dot of pink, not a natural color at the beach. I bent over to get a better look and got a shock. Peeking out from under the sand was the between-the-toe piece of a flip-flop. Could it be?

I dug around it and lifted out a navy sandal from J. Crew with seersucker straps, twisted and bent, but definitely mine. Those wiggly tears spilled over, and I talked out loud to God, stunned by this unusual token of his kindness. “You did it, God! I can hardly believe it! Thank you, thank you!” God had given me a “good gift from above” (a really unusual one) on the exact day I needed it.

Digging in that same area with the hope of finding the other flip-flop, I bumped into it several feet away under eight inches of sand. My favorite sandals had come back to me after being lost for nine weeks. There was no explainable reason except that God saw my need and decided to do something special to take care of it. It was as if he said, “Quit worrying, and quit hanging on by your fingernails, because I’m hanging on to you.”

On my frequent trips to the beach during the last nine weeks, I’d unknowingly been stepping over my flip-flops again and again, buried in the sand beneath my footsteps. They’d been there all along; I just didn’t know it, because I couldn’t see them.

God had used an object lesson to make a point with me, just like Jesus often used objects to teach those following him. When I’d been feeling alone and burdened with worry during the night, he’d been hidden from sight (just like the sandals). But in reality, he was telling me, “I’ve been there all along.”

“I will give you the treasures of darkness and hidden wealth of secret places so that you may know that it is I. I am the Lord, and there is no other. Besides Me there is no God, the One forming light and creating darkness, causing well-being and creating calamity. I am the Lord who does all these. I will go before you and make the rough places smooth.” (Isaiah 45:3,5,7,2)

Left brain, right brain, I never remember which side does what. One thing I do know, however, is that I’m not a numbers person. I’d rather write a 50 page paper than add a long column of figures, even if I had a calculator. That’s why keeping track of Nate’s pill bottles and medicine doses is almost more than I can handle. The 8½” X 11” grid Hospice gave me today to write everything down was intended to help but has only screamed, “You can’t!” from its place on the kitchen counter.

The Hospice doctor and the head nurse of our team spent 90 minutes with us today, examining Nate and talking over his current pains and frustrations. The doctor completed his part and was getting ready to leave when I asked him if it was true that marijuana was a legal pain med in Michigan. He answered, as most doctors do, with a detailed explanation. “There are three parts to the answer. The first is the law, and yes, it has become legal to use marijuana in medicating pain in Michigan. The second part is the training of doctors in the proper use of it, and that has widely occurred, too. The third part is the stickler. Who will be the provider?” Good question. Good answer.

The nurse volunteered to stay an extra half hour to tutor me on the meds. My slow responses to her drug-instructions must have triggered anxiety in her as she feared for her patient. She and I lined up all the containers, which included meds we used to use, meds we are currently using and meds we will use in the future. The minute she began referring to the drugs by their real names, I got lost.

Excusing myself to get a thin-tipped indelible marker I said, “You can tell me what and when, and I’ll translate it for myself on the label.”

She chuckled like I was kidding but bravely started in: “Ondansetron is for nausea,” she said, “and he can have up to three pills, 8 hours apart, over 24 hours.” I wrote on the container, “Nausea, 1 at a time, up to 3.”

She continued: “ABHR is a gel you rub on his wrists if the ondansetron isn’t working, and he can have it twice in 24 hours.” So I wrote “Break-through nausea, wrist, twice.”

We handled each vial, packet and tube, she reading the technicalities on the labels and me making them idiot-proof with my marker. I felt much better when we were done, especially after we’d labeled the four different kinds of morphine with their differences, none of which we are yet using. Just reading the word “morphine” on so many pill bottles made me shaky over the great unknown of Nate’s and my medical future together. Nevertheless, we completed our task.

My little pharmacy looks a lot like the leftovers shelf in our refrigerator because I have the meds grouped in Zip Loc Bags, but if there is any hope to keep it all straight, baggies are the answer. In addition to pills for pain, anxiety, sleeping, mood, constipation and swelling, we have a gel for bone pain and another for dry mouth. There are also special mouth washes, lip balms, skin creams and (gulp) suppositories.

As the nurse was leaving, she filled my cupped hands with a pile of bright green, rubber gloves. “You’ll need to wear these when you administer the gels,” she said, “or you’ll be medicating yourself when you apply them on Nate.” Some of those medications were starting to sound pretty good to me. She must have sensed that, because as she left, she gave me a strong hug, and it worked even better than the gels might have.

Tonight my sister Mary, a nurse, came over and pulled me out of my medical quicksand. Sitting on a kitchen stool, she recorded each drug name and its prescribed dose on the paper grid, using nurse-lingo like “M” for midnight and “N” for noon. Just watching her pen fly over the little squares was comforting. She completed the job accurately and thoroughly, relishing the whole process.

God’s tender loving care is in the details. Through the medical perplexities of this day, he made sure all my questions were answered, and he put my mind at ease (both brain sides). He also showed me (again) that if I have to walk through a maze, he’ll keep me from making any wrong turns. Whatever the needs, he’s always got them covered.

“God will generously provide all you need. Then you will always have everything you need and plenty left over to share with others.” (2 Corinthians 9:8, NLT)