Hi everyone,
Not many updates as far as Anderson goes, but I do have some thoughts I'd like to share and hopefully they'll help you all feel a little more what I feel and what I'm going through right now.
I really don't feel
strong at all. When people write me and tell me how strong I am or how strong I've been... I really don't feel worthy to be called that. Any and all strength that you see in me comes directly from God and absolutely none from me. I think if it were completely up to me, I'd just crawl into a corner and wish I would just die there. Every time I get out of bed, every time I sit up and talk to a doctor, every time I do anything at all, it's God lifting me up and moving me. I have no strength left. I can barely function. I'm glad he's in the ICU now because I really do not have the mental capacity to take care of him right now.
I wanted to share with you a little bit from the book I've been reading.. Hope for Hurting Hearts. The way Greg Laurie writes the book reminds me of the way I write these emails. I like it. He seriously puts my emotions into words better than I could on my own. Here's from the section "what helps... and what doesn't". He even uses "..." like I do!
Sometimes people will see you in the days of grieving, and they will notice that you're not smiling, or even that you've been crying. And they'll think, perhaps, that you're not doing very well.
Well, what were you expecting? There is a place for mourning, a place for weeping, a place for grieving when someone you love has died. So don't expect us to get over it quickly. You can't "get over" someone who has been a part of your life... You don't just edit them out of the script. Yes, you know they're alive in heaven, but they're not with you anymore. And that is where the sorrow comes in...
Grief is like a big ocean wave... When you're out there in the ocean waiting for a wave and see a really big one coming, you have to make a choice. You have to decide what you will do with that wave. If you don't take action to ride the wave, it can pick you up and slam you down into what we used to call the soup, or the whitewater. And when you're in that turbulent, angry water, you can quickly lose perspective, even losing the sense of "which way's up?" The other way to handle a large wave is to catch it, and ride it as best you can.
Sometimes you will encounter a grieving person who has managed to ride the waves for a while, and he's keeping his head above water. Then at other times, you will see him when he's been caught in the wave, crushed by its force, and seemingly lost all perspective.
So when you ask a grieving person "how are you?, he or she may find that difficult to answer. Maybe it would be better to simply say, "I'm praying for you," "I'm sorry," or "I love you."
Sometimes a person may want to talk about their grief. At other times, it's the last thing they want to do. And sometimes the best thing youc an do for someone who has lost someone is not to say anything at all. Job's counselors had it right when they first came to see him and console him. For seven full days these friends didn't say a word, they simply sat with him in his grief. Everything began to fall apart when they started talking.
When you're mourning, you're vulnerable. Your guard is down and you are ultra sensitive-sensitive to things that will help you and sensitive to things that can hurt you as well. So if youw ant to say something to a grieving person, pray that the Lord will give you the right words. And if you don't know what the right words are, just give that person a smile and don't speak at all. Just say a prayer for them and leave them alone. (It's me now... I don't mean to say that you all should leave us or me alone. He goes into a section right after this about words that don't help, like "I know what you're feeling" or "what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger" or "God always picks His best flowers first" I'll skip a little bit and get to another part that I thought was really true)...
One person who lost three members of their family in a tragic car crash wrote, "We recover from broken limbs, not amputations. Catastrophic loss by definition precludes recovery. It will transform us or destroy us, but it will never leave us the same. There is no going back to the past, which is gone forever; only going ahead to the future, which is yet to be discovered." [end of excerpt]
I think that one of the most beautiful things about having a relationship with God is the hope that He brings in our lives. The saying that "time heals all wounds"... I don't necessarily agree with that. I think that time will help you forget the sting, but the wound is always there. It's a sensitive spot that when poked or prodded by some unsuspecting passerby, opens up again and pours out blood or pus if it's a particularly nasty wound. If you ever've said "where'd that come from?" when someone reacted particularly nastily or harshly to your seemingly harmless action or remark... you might have just poked open someone's pre-existing emotional wound... just maybe. To be truly healed and whole again is impossible... on our own. Only the Creator can restore the broken; broken doesn't just up and fix itself. True healing is born out of hope and to me, God is the only source of hope in this world.
The more you try to control your life, the more you try to hang on to what you think you deserve, the more difficult life becomes. Disappointment and loss is inevitable. Hope comes from knowing that God has a plan and that it's not an evil one, but it's a beautiful one... one that glorifies Him in all His goodness and power and love for us and THAT seriously gives me hope. It's so counter-intuitive, but the more you give up control to God, the easier life becomes and the more you have to gain. The unbearable becomes bearable. If you're sinking sinking sinking deeper and deeper into the dark depths of the ocean with some kind of heavy weight tied to you, immobilizing your legs, pulling you lower and deeper, the weight of the water closing in on you and the panic of drowning and suffocation causing you to flail about in futile efforts to grasp what you see but cannot attain... giving up control and submitting to God is like being loosed from the weight, floating effortlessly up to the surface and taking huge gasps of life-giving air until you've been restored and can breathe normally again. Even death... death may seem like the ultimate roadblock in the journey of life... but it really isn't. Life in this world is just a glimmer... a foggy reflection of eternal life and heaven. Death is just the end of this foggy life and the beginning of something more wonderful and glorious than we could ever imagine. That is something to look forward to.
Something that I've been thanking God for through all of this is how He's used all the circumstances in our lives to prepare us for this moment of probable separation. Anderson and I had a long distance relationship for about 3 years prior to his first brain tumor diagnosis in 2006. He'd spend 3 months in Brazil and one month in the U.S. Once he bought his plan ticket to go back to Brazil, we knew we only had limited days left together... it all became a countdown until the moment he had to make that long drive out to LAX. For the first year of our relationship, I was a wreck every single time. Sometimes I'd just want to sleep through the departure... so I wouldn't feel the sting of separation... but that was kind of dumb because I still felt it later on and I could have been awake to say goodbye one last time while he was still there to hug and comfort me. One time, I was so depressed that I kinda locked myself in my room for a month and did nothing but listen to the audio version of Harry Potter. I think I might have listened to the first 3 or 4 books while I just laid there in bed. After a few times... we were still sad and we still cried every time, but it didn't break me every time... it just became another countdown... this time not for how much time we had left together, but for how much time until we'd see each other again. Anderson had a countdown timer on his desktop and he numbered the days until he'd be back with me again. It really changed the time we were apart when we focused not on our present sadness, but focused on the upcoming reunion instead. God's promised me an eternity with Anderson in heaven. That's definitely something to look fwd to. This time, I have no idea how long my countdown timer is, but I'm sure I'll end up at the end of my life wondering where all that time went and be bursting with joy when I can wake up and take that journey to meet him in the clouds.
That being said, I am still praying with all my heart for a miracle. Faith the size of a mustard seed can throw a mountain into the ocean, so says Jesus. I have full confidence that God can stop tumor progression, regenerate healthy tissue, make him see again, make him walk again, make him breathe again... in the blink of an eye. He has that power and I believe it. But I also believe that God will choose the path that gives Him the most glory. Maybe I think that a miraculous healing would bring Him more glory but who am I to make that call? I wasn't there when He created the world and everything in it. I have absolutely no authority to make that call... and my desire for miraculous healing would probably come out of my own selfishness to keep him for myself a little bit longer than anything else.
I see this is becoming one of the long ones. I guess I'll try to wrap things up now.
Last thought of the email: One of the sad things about the ICU is that they kick me out for 4 hours a day... 2 hours during the change in morning shift and 2 hours during the change at night. When they kicked us out of his room for the night shift change, I went home to the apt with Kelly and took a shower. I had been feeling OK until I stepped into the bathroom. I suddenly became overwhelmed with emotion from the memories we spent in that bathroom... in that bedroom. Getting ready in the mornings and brushing up at night were pretty big ordeals for me and Anderson. Whoever got there first would put toothpaste on the other person's toothbrush for the other person. Was that confusing? Anyway, sometimes I'd get there and there'd be toothpaste waiting for me on my toothbrush usually at night. It would warm my heart every time. The master bathroom at the apt also had two sinks and we really enjoyed standing side by side and getting ready together. Anyway, it all hit me and I suddenly felt really alone. I'd cry and stop. Sob and then stop. When we finally got back to the hospital, I held his hand and he squeezed mine back. I started crying and he wanted to be let out of his wrist restraint (they restrain him so he doesn't pull out his breathing tube) so I let loose one of his hands and he pulled me close to him and he started patting my arm and consoling me. He still takes care of me with what he can. I'm so blessed to be married to the man of my dreams... who would still desire to take care of me even while on a ventilator, a feeding tube, an EKG, a central line, 2 periph IV's and an arterial line, paralyzed from the chest down... to comfort me with one arm while the other one is still in a wrist restraint. This is the love I want to remember... not getting a dozen roses on valentine's day, even though he does that too sometimes.
Take home message: God is the source of our strength, our hope, our faith, and our love. If you couldn't already tell by my super long emails, we really can't stop telling you of all the wonderful things that God's given us and has shown us in our lives. If this is something you desire for yourselves... it really can be yours for 10 easy payments of... (ok JK... I just heard Billy Mays died and infomercials, Pitch Men and oxyclean have been way in the back of my mind today)... No seriously now... if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved... BUT WAIT! if you act now, you will inherit all the strength, hope, faith, and love that God has been waiting to offer you your entire life. It would make us so happy if through our lives, that you would come to know God, that through our experiences, you would strengthen your own faith and relationship with Him or even just to not take your life for granted.
K... that's it for today and maybe for a few days unless I have lots more thoughts tomorrow to share.
<3,
Tiff
Pictures:
- The wedding pic is one that May sent me fairly recently. I really like it. I wasn't there when it happened (I think) so it's like I discovered something new about our wedding when I saw this pic. It's on my desktop and sometimes I just like to stare at it. And then I catch myself and realize that the real thing is only a few feet away.
- Dodger Stadium tour - thank you to James and Becky for taking us. It was THE best. :) One of the first things we did after getting married. If you ddin't already know, my husband's a huge dodger fan. I thought he was kind of weird for being so into bowling and baseball but that's OK because those were two of the sports that my dad used to play with us when we were young so I took to it pretty well when he re-exposed them to me after we met. I didn't start to get better at bowling until he became my personal bowling coach. He always took the opportunity to make me a better person. Anyway, I check the standings and the scores everyday now in case he asks me or in case he was wondering. Go Dodgers!