Even When It Hurts

Steven had four wisdom teeth extracted yesterday. When I left him in the exam room and headed toward the waiting room, he was happy and chatting with the nurses. Then when I was called back to the recovery area, this is what I found.

Of course, through my maternal eyes, I saw my 17-year-old son as a vulnerable little 4-year-old boy.  He was still under the effects of the anesthesia and was just beginning to wake up. The nurse came in and put an ice pack on his head and without opening his eyes, he said some words that I could not understand because of the anesthesia and the gauze in his mouth. As the nurse walked away, I asked him to repeat what he said thinking he needed something or maybe was in pain. He still didn't open his eyes, but said very slowly so I could understand, “I said, Thank you so much.” And it caught me up short for a moment. I didn't expect his first words to be that of gratitude.

I stopped and thought about it for a moment and realized that ever since my boys were little, as soon as they were able to speak, I always made them thank the nurse or doctor when we went for doctor visits. It was difficult sometimes when they were little and needed a shot, but even through tear stained eyes, they would say, “Thank you.” I wanted them to trust me when it was unpleasant and know that even though it might hurt, it was for their best good. I wanted to teach them to be thankful to the medical professionals. My son Steven, unfortunately, has had more than his share of doctor visits and needle pokes; everything from allergy shots and blood draws to PICC lines. Even so, when Steven was hardly awake and his first words were that of gratitude, I was proud of him but also a little amazed.

Thinking about that later, I realized that this picture is much like my own experience with pain and gratitude. Just as I teach my children to be thankful in spite of the pain, my Heavenly Father expects the same from me. Although life is sometimes difficult, He wants me to be thankful even though it hurts and trust Him that it is for my best good. I may never understand why Jim had to go so soon, and why I’m left with the pain and grief of missing him, but I do know that I serve a sovereign God who has the best in mind for me. So, I will continue to say thank you and trust my heavenly Father for what is best for me - just as my children have learned to trust me and be thankful even when it hurts.

Sweet Gifts

Today is December 1^st and I have been doing lots of thinking and reflecting lately. Reflecting on the past year and specifically on where my family was one year ago today. I’ve heard from other people who know – others whose husbands have died - that the first anniversary of a loved one’s death can be very difficult; “dicey at best” is what one person told me. Dicey at best. So, I thought it would be wise to be gentle with myself as I navigate these upcoming days. I’ve lowered my expectations; the expectations that I place on myself to manage everything that I juggle on a daily basis. I’ve decided to live life during these days as it comes and feel the feelings that I’m bound to feel. Warm soaks in the tub and plenty of pampering will be my only appointments. And through it all, I plan to sit at the feet of Jesus to take in all the strength and grace and peace and loving kindness that He offers me.

A year ago today, I moved into Jim’s hospital room to be with him and help care for him as he lay dying in his hospital bed. Many friends and relatives came to visit to say their last goodbyes to Jim. I remember that even though Jim was on a morphine drip and seemed unresponsive, when we talked to him on that day, he would sometimes move his leg. We all wondered if that meant anything or if it was some involuntary movement. But as he continued to move his leg, it became apparent that he could still hear us and that moving his leg was all he could do to respond. I remember a friend came in and talked to me and then said to Jim, “Jim, is it okay if I pray with you?” and Jim nodded his head. We looked at each other and smiled to know that he was still with us and could hear us. And then we prayed. And I remember the sweet moment when even though he looked like he was sleeping, I leaned over and told him I loved him and kissed him on the lips for one of the last times, and he kissed me back. What a sweet gift.

My tears fall again even as I type this.  Tears are another sweet gift.  I have learned to be very comfortable with my tears over the past year.  Tears are healing and a way that our bodies release stress and grief.  What a gift God has given us to be able to have tears to process grief.  It is cleansing and a sign of courage and strength.

Strength. That’s another thing I’ve been thinking about lately. People tell me how strong I’ve been over this past year. I remember wondering how I would ever be able to “do life” without Jim after his passing.  I truly didn't think I was strong enough to handle everything by myself that it takes to keep this “Miller boat afloat” as my sister once told me I do.  It is truly amazing how our God gives us the amount of grace that is needed for each step that we need to take.  Although I believe I am not a quitter and that I had a certain amount of strength before Jim’s death, I experienced a strength I didn’t recognize in myself.  Another sweet gift. God’s strength working through me.

Probably one of the biggest things I’ve learned over the past year is to actually do what God asks me to do even when I don’t feel it.  In Philippians 4 it says, “Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.”  I remember in the early days after Jim’s passing, when I was engulfed in deep grief, I cried out to God through my tears. And I made myself say the words “thank you” for Jim’s death and for what I was experiencing. It was painful. But I knew what the next verse promises. “And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” Another sweet gift. God has given me a peace that only He can give. Peace that we can’t understand in circumstances like this. Thank you Father!  So my practice now is to allow myself to feel the pain and grief of losing Jim but to always pair that with thanksgiving and gratitude. And He is always faithful to fulfill his promises.

So today, I’m going to continue to count my blessings. And thank God for every one.  They are many.  Peace.  Another sweet gift.