Last week I wrote about the struggle I was having to hang in there through a difficult season of stress–some of it bad, some of it good, but stress nonetheless. This week my husband and I are anticipating his knee “re-replacement” on June 18 (if it doesn’t get postponed again!) And as I write, we STILL don’t know the type/pervasiveness of the infection, the kind of surgery, or the extent of the rehab. All we know is that a “picc” line and six weeks of IV antibiotics is guaranteed. It’s been a frustrating week and I need to be honest and tell you that I am no longer hanging on.
Instead…I’ve decided to let go.
I’m letting go of the need to appear to hold it all together. Letting go of the wish to be strong for everyone else. Letting go of the desire to be in control.
I’m letting go…so I can just be held.
I want to be held with my eyes on the Cross of Christ and not on the storm. Held in the promise of God’s never-ending love for me. Held in the secure belief that He is holding my falling-apart world together.
Yes, I’ve decided to stop holding on and just be held.
Perhaps you’d like to join me in letting go of the pain, the hurt, the disappointment, the confusion, the worry or the fear you face. Please listen to the music video “Just Be Held” by Casting Crowns. The lyrics by John Mark Hall, Matthew West and Bernie Herms inspired this blog and express this truth more beautifully than I ever could.
I knew April and May would be ridiculously busy with extensive traveling, speaking engagements, ministering to cancer patients/caregivers, serving on faculty at writing conferences, milestone family celebrations, and teaching discipleship classes. But I just had to make it until May 31 and then my schedule would clear, I could relax and shift out of stressful, high-gear living. I knew I could do it.
But that was before we met with the doctor on May 30.
Unexplained, intermittent pain in my husband’s right knee–now a year-and-a-half since bilateral replacements–led us to yet-another appointment with his surgeon. An earlier CT scan confirmed what we already knew, i.e. something’s not right. Blood work did not indicate an infection, but the doctor wanted to aspirate some fluid “just to make sure.”
We were anticipating my husband would need a “revision” surgery, placing a small, steel rod beneath his tibia, which appeared to be slipping. It would be a much easier procedure than what he’d already been through and very little rehab required. in fact, the pain should be improved pretty much immediately.
We weren’t crazy about him having to have more surgery–he’s already had four procedures on that knee (two invasive and two arthroscopic)–but it didn’t sound like a big deal. Kind of like when you’ve survived cancer and then a doctor tells you that you have a kidney stone. The latter doesn’t seem nearly as daunting because of what you’ve already faced.
But when the surgeon withdrew the second tube of fluid, he said his “stomach dropped.” Instead of the clear color he expected, it looked yellow and cloudy–normally a sign of infection. Now the conversation shifted from “propping up” the tibia, to removing the entire replacement, cleaning out the area and at some point putting in a new joint followed by extended antibiotics and extensive rehabilitation.
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Just when I almost had made it to May 31.
Do you know that feeling? It happens when your life has been spinning out of control and you discover that the light you see at the end of the tunnel is really an oncoming train. Or when the roller coaster of bad news just keeps taking another plunge. Or when you can’t seem to catch a break with your job, your finances, your kids, your………………..fill in the blank.
Maybe the bottom dropped out just when you thought you had gotten through it all. Just when you thought life would slow down. Just when you imagined the stress would end. Just when you could exhale.
But now, like me, you are waiting and wondering. How big and heavy is that train I see coming? Is there any chance to derail it? Can I possibly jump away before impact?
Good questions. And I don’t know any of the answers. But I do know how I prayed after that doctor appointment and how God answered.
“Lord, I feel terrible for my husband to have to go through pain and excruciating work AGAIN and honestly, I feel terrible for ME to have to go through exhausting caregiving again. It doesn’t make sense. And because I already know how difficult it may be, I can’t logically feel okay about it.
“But, I’m praying and believing that Your Holy Spirit can bring me a peace that passes all understanding. A peace that isn’t based on what I can see or know or even feel on my own, but simply on Your supernatural power to do more than I can ask or imagine.”
I prayed that last Friday. On Saturday morning when I read my Bible, words jumped off the page and encouraged my heart. On Sunday morning, the worship music lifted my spirits and the message was just what I needed to hear. Nothing had changed in our circumstances and no new information was obtained concerning our future, but it was well with my soul.
God will do the same for you and your loved one.
“Don’t worry about anything; instead pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he’s done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand, His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:6-7
P.S. Surgery–of some sort–is scheduled for 1 p.m. Friday, June 8. If I don’t blog for a while, it’s because I’m taking really good care of my guy!
If the music video below doesn’t automatically load, click here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCR_Fa8YV2U
This To Kill a Mockingbird snippet of advice comes from Harper Lee’s fictional character Atticus Finch, a white attorney defending a black man falsely accused of rape in a racist 1930s southern community. Finch is adamant that his own children learn to treat everyone with compassion, regardless of their outward differences and admonishes them to try to see life from another’s perspective.
Families and friends facing serious illness have differences that are much more than skin deep—very diverse personalities and coping styles, which often are misunderstood or unappreciated.
From my observations ministering to cancer patients and their families for more than 25 years, I can tell you that folks normally cope with cancer the same way they coped with life before cancer. The talkers keep chatting and the quiet ones stay mum. The feelers continue to emote and the thinkers keep on rationalizing. The people-oriented surround themselves with folks to spur them on and the task-oriented gather facts to try and problem-solve.
And guess what? That’s okay…because we need each other.
We need an arsenal of abilities and strengths to fight cancer or any other trial and each person in your inner circle of loved ones brings something different to the table. You will be far better equipped if you can appreciate your differences instead of allowing them to annoy or even divide you.
My husband of nearly 45 years and I are pretty much exact opposites in personality. I’m a task-oriented
extrovert and my mate is a people-oriented introvert. He’s easy-going and I have to plan to be spontaneous. If you are familiar with the Myers-Briggs type indicator, I’m an ESTJ and he’s an INFP. Even if you’re not familiar with the traits those 10 letters stand for, you can clearly see none of them matches up![1]
If you have ever taken the Gary Smalley Personality Types Inventory, I’m a lion-beaver and he’s a golden retriever-otter. A lion’s rallying cry is “Let’s get it done!” while an otter delightfully squeals “Don’t worry, it will all work out!” [2]
And what I’ve learned from all this alphabet soup and animal labels is that sometimes my hubby needs to tighten up and sometimes I need to lighten up. And I’ve especially learned that at times I need someone like him who is very different than I am to help me hear from God.
Our Creator designed us to need each other and to be able to offer one another our talents, our gifts, our insights, and our special brand of encouragement. Please don’t let those differences become a wedge in your relationships. One of the primary ways Satan has to discourage families and friends facing serious illness is to get us at odds with one another. Don’t let that deceiver win.
Whether you are the patient or the caregiver, go ahead and consider the world from someone else’s point of view. Take a deep breath, climb into his or her skin and walk around a little. You want and need people with personalities different from yours to help you find peace in the face of illness.
Live in harmony with each other. Don’t be too proud to enjoy the company of ordinary people. And don’t think you know it all!…Do all that you can to live in peace with everyone. Romans 12:16, 18 NLT
Don’t tear down another person with your words. Instead, keep the peace, and be considerate. Be truly humble toward everyone… Titus 3:2 The Voice Bible
Be joyful. Grow to maturity. Encourage each other. Live in harmony and peace. Then the God of love and peace will be with you. 2 Corinthians 13:11 NLT
Adapted from Peace in the Face of Cancer, copyright Lynn Eib 2017.
My husband and I recently returned from a breathtaking cruise of the Rhine River from Amsterdam, Netherlands through Germany and France to Basel, Switzerland. We basked in the beauty of more than 7 million tulips blooming at Keukenhof Gardens, marveled at the 13th-century Gothic architecture of the Cologne Cathedral,
spotted 30+ medieval castles along the spectacular 80-mile river gorge,
and delighted in the brush strokes of such artistic giants as Rembrandt, Vermeer and Van Gogh,
while intermittently feasting on French pastries and warm German “apfelstrudel”with vanilla sauce. (#happyhusbandesserts)
But during our three days in Amsterdam and our week down the Rhine River, the most beautiful sight–which literally brought tears to my eyes– was not a wonder of nature nor a human masterpiece. It was the memory of a person.
Corrie Ten Boom.
If you’re already familiar with the Dutch woman known mainly from The Hiding Place book and movie, I don’t really have to explain why it was such a thrill to stand on the same floors she walked more than 70 years ago. Tears filled my eyes as I stared into the actual hiding place where Jews and members of the Dutch resistance were safely tucked away from the Nazis (left photo). Let me share a little of that story from the website for the Ten Boom Museum shown below:
During the Second World War, the Ten Boom home (above the family jewelry business) became a refuge, a hiding place, for fugitives and those hunted by the Nazis. By protecting these people, Casper and his daughters, Betsie and Corrie, risked their lives. This non-violent resistance against the Nazi-oppressors was the Ten Boom’s way of living out their Christian faith.
During 1943 and into 1944, there were usually 5-6 people illegally living in the Ten Boom home: some of whom were Jews and others members of the Dutch underground. Additional refugees would stay with the Ten Booms for a few hours or a few days until another ‘safe house’ could be located for them.
Through these activities, the Ten Boom Family and their many friends and co-workers of ‘the BeJe group’saved the lives of an estimated 800 Jews and other refugees.
On February 28, 1944, the Ten Boom Family was betrayed and the Sicherheitsdienst (Security Service) of the Nazis raided their home. That day, more than 30 people were arrested, among whom were father Casper and Betsie and Corrie, his two daughters that were living at home. Corrie’s brother Willem, sister Nollie and nephew Peter were at the house that day and were also taken to prison.
Although the Sicherheitsdienst arrested many visitors, they could not find who they were really after. Safely hidden behind a false wall in Corrie’s bedroom (entrance was through a removable bottom shelf) were two Jewish men, two Jewish women and two membersof the Dutch underground. Although the house remained under guard by the Sicherheitsdienst, members of a local police resistance group were able, by cunnings means, to liberate the refugees from the ‘hiding place’ 47 hours later. The four Jews were taken to new ‘safe house’, and three survived the war. One of the underground workers was killed during the war years, but the other survived. (The photo shows how narrow the hiding place was and wall stencils illustrate how six people stood inside for two days.)
Ten days after his arrest, father Casper died in Scheveningen Prison. Betsie and Corrie also spent some time in that same prison. From there, they were transported to camp Vucht and then to the notorious Ravensbrück Concentration Camp in Germany.
Life at Ravensbrück was almost unbearable, but Betsie and Corrie spent their time sharing Jesus’ love with their fellow prisoners. Many women became Christians in that terrible place becauce of Betsie and Corrie’s witness to them. Betsie died at Ravensbrück (age 59) but Corrie miraculously survived.
After her release from Ravensbrück Concentration Camp (age 53) Corrie travelled all around the world to tell everyone that “there no pit so deep that God’s love is not deeper still” and that “God will give us the love to be able to forgive our enemies.” In more than 30 years, Corrie visited over 60 countries to testify to God’s love an to encourage people with the message that “Jesus is Victor.”On April 15th, 1983, on her 91st birthday, this remarkable woman died in Orange, California.
I cannot wait to meet this amazing woman in Heaven one day. I pray her story encourages you to believe that God’s love can reach into your or your loved one’s deep pit and to trust Him to be your safe hiding place.
You are my hiding place and my shield. I wait for your word. Psalm 119:114
For you are my hiding place; you protect me from trouble. You surround me with songs of victory. Psalm 32:7
He has hidden me in the shadow of His hand. Isaiah 49:2
(To read more about the Corrie Ten Boom Museum, go to https://www.corrietenboom.com/en/home. Her author page on Amazon.com lists her many books.)
(If the music video below doesn’t automatically load, click on https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RzqpkMJxyss)
A few years ago I was eating breakfast on the deck with my oldest grandchild, Bauer, 2½ at the time. Thanks
to my husband’s green thumb, the deck was bursting with beautiful blooms. As I stumbled around, chiding my foggy brain to wake up, little Bauer let out a small toddler sigh.
“It’s lovely out here,” he said with a sweet smile. “We have everything we need.”
Ah, contentment.
A bowl of multigrain Cheerios with milk, a Lightning McQueen sippy cup of O.J., the beauty of nature and a day with grandma—what more could you possibly need?
Maybe a clear PET scan? How about a drop in the tumor marker? No more medicine side-effects would be nice. An insurance company that didn’t balk at paying for what the doctor ordered would be really great.
It’s difficult to have childlike contentment when we live in a grown-up world where in the U.S. alone every 30 seconds a new cancer diagnosis is made and every 65 seconds someone develops Alzheimer’s. It’s never easy to find contentment while watching a loved one deal with a physical assault on his/her body—especially knowing we are helpless to stop it.
My dear friends Don and Jean, longtime members of the church my husband founded, know all too well how it feels to have your world turn upside down and to frantically search for contentment again.
Both retired school teachers, Jean was diagnosed with inoperable, stage 4 non-small cell lung cancer at Christmas time 2013.
“I was shocked,” she recalls. “I thought I was too healthy to get cancer. I was doing all the ‘right’ things to be a healthy person—never smoking, eating right, exercising, weight control, regular checkups and all that.”
Since that shocking diagnosis, both Don and Jean have tried to live in the moment, but the admonition to “take one day at a time” is “the opposite of our teaching careers,” she says. “As teachers we always had to look ahead and plan for another day.”
“Learning to live one day at a time—and live it to the fullest—has been no easy task for me,” Don acknowledges. “My mind is always ‘planning’ the future, so I have had to change the way I think about tomorrow. I’m not there 100-percent, but I’m way better than I was.
“I think both of us in our own way just turned this whole thing over to God,” Don adds. “For me it’s putting total faith in His plan—knowing it’s a perfect plan—even if I don’t understand it all.”
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I’ve thought often about my grandson’s contented sentiment, especially mornings when I sit down with my to-do list ready to organize everything that I think needs to be done that day. Sometimes I smile to myself and say “It’s a lovely day and I have everything I need.”
Perhaps that’s a sentiment with which you could start your day? The words of a toddler could be described as childish, but if like Don and Jean, you have faith in a loving God, they can become childlike trust.
Of one thing I am certain: my soul has become calm, quiet, and contented in You.
Like a weaned child resting upon his mother, I am quiet. Psalm 131:2 The Voice
A soul that is calm, quiet and contented in God.
What do you need today for your soul to be content? Ask your Heavenly Father and expect His answer.
Know this: my God will also fill every need you have according to His glorious riches in Jesus the Anointed, our Liberating King. Philippians 4:19 The Voice Bible
…for I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little. For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength. Philippians 4:11-13 NLT
(If the music video doesn’t automatically load, click on https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHe_qmo3gX4 )
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About Me
I’m a newspaper reporter-turned-author. And I’m a passionate encourager, but always a truth-teller. I worked for nearly two decades in a unique position as a patient advocate in my oncologist’s office and the Cancer Prayer Support Group I founded in 1991 is the country’s oldest such faith-based group.
Since my diagnosis in 1990 of locally advanced colon cancer, I’ve offered hope to hundreds of thousands of cancer patients and their caregivers. I pray you will find encouragement here, too!
After her release from Ravensbrück Concentration Camp (age 53) Corrie travelled all around the world to tell everyone that “there no pit so deep that God’s love is not deeper still” and that “God will give us the love to be able to forgive our enemies.” In more than 30 years, Corrie visited over 60 countries to testify to God’s love an to encourage people with the message that “Jesus is Victor.” On April 15th, 1983, on her 91st birthday, this remarkable woman died in Orange, California.
it feels to have your world turn upside down and to frantically search for contentment again.
I’m a newspaper reporter-turned-author. And I’m a passionate encourager, but always a truth-teller. I worked for nearly two decades in a unique position as a patient advocate in my oncologist’s office and the Cancer Prayer Support Group I founded in 1991 is the country’s oldest such faith-based group.