Happy Sad

The first time I heard the saying, “happy sad” was from the Amy Grant song So Glad.  This was back in 1983 and I was going through a very dark year in my life.  And this song and those words spoke volumes to me.  Because that is exactly how I felt – happy sad.

Yesterday I felt that way again.  I took my daughter, Narissa, age 33, to the doctor.  This doctor is a specialist of immunology.  Narissa has been diagnosed with Common Variable Immune Deficiency.  Basically meaning her entire immune system is bad.  The little guys that are suppose to be guarding her body from the big bad everyday germs are sleeping on the job.  They may not even be sleeping, they may have vacated the premises.  They suspect this is why Narissa has had non stop 24/7 head pain and many other issues for 10 years now. 

Knowing Narissa’s childhood physical problems I asked if this is some diagnosis that kids can be born with and if so what are they symptoms.  As the extremely kind and knowledgeable nurse started giving the deluge of symptoms, in my mind I was seeing my son, Byron, as a young child.  As most of you who have read my blog for anytime know, Byron passed away last year, 10 days after receiving a heart transplant.  He was 34 at the time.  Both Byron and Narissa had many of the symptoms Nurse Monica shared with us.  Then she summed it up by saying many of the children that have this immune deficiency diagnosis have cardiomyopathy when they get older.  Which all has to do with a heart valve problem.  Byron was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy in his early 20’s and had this heart valve problem. 

I shared with Monica a little bit about Byron’s physical history and shared that his cousin was also diagnosed with cardiomyopathy at age 14.  She then said that this immune deficiency has been genetically traced back to people from German descent and asked if our family came from German descent.  Well pretty close, my dad’s family came from Austria. 

One of the major symptoms of immune deficiency is the body’s inability to fight infection.  To this day, even after an extremely thorough autopsy, the doctors do not know why Byron died.  Their best guess is that the infection they thought they had fought off with multitudes of antibiotics right after his heart transplant came back with a vengeance and took his life in a matter of minutes.

I am so happy that after 30 years of stomach problems with no cause and after 10 years of non stop head pain with no cause, Narissa has a diagnosis that makes sense.  And a diagnosis that can be treated, even if she receives treatment for the rest of her life.  But my heart is broken once again to think if we had had this knowledge when Byron was alive, he may still be alive today and leading a productive life. 

But in it all, I still confess “God is Good” and “His ways are not my ways”, Isaiah 55:8.

Peace

Philippians 4:7  “The peace of God that transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

The dictionary’s definition of peace states that peace is: 1) a state of tranquility or quiet; 2) freedom from disquieting or oppressive thoughts or emotions; 3) harmony in personal relations; 4) a state of concord or tranquility.

I call this worldly peace.  This kind of peace can only exist in the absence of difficult situations.  As it relates to the above definition: 1) absence of noise or commotion; 2) absence of oppressive thoughts or emotions; 3) absence of strife; 4) absence of discord.

God’s peace which is referred to in Philippians 4:7 can coexist with the most difficult situations.  That is because God’s peace is transcendent – it rises above both the circumstance and understanding.  The dictionary’s definition for transcend is: 1) to rise above or go beyond the ordinary limits of; 2) to triumph over the negative or restrictive aspects; 3) to be prior to, beyond, and above (the universe or material existence); 4) to outstrip or outdo in some attribute, quality, or power

I have personally experienced this peace several times in my life.  My first experience with the peace of God happened 3 weeks after I accepted Christ into my life.  I received a phone call on a Saturday afternoon from my first husband’s girlfriend - that is when I found out my husband had been having an affair for several weeks. 

Another time was when my son, Byron, was born.  The doctors gave him less than a 50% chance of living and said if he made it the first 72 hours of life, he would live.  I remember going home from the hospital and sleeping soundly between hours 48 and 60 – knowing beyond any doubt that if we lost Byron, God would see me through it. 

Another time was when Byron had his first open heart surgery at age 2 – I remember him being wheeled on the bed into the operating room and he had to pass through these double doors that had two teddy bears painted on them waving to the people on the outside of the operating room.  Of course we were at a Children’s hospital.  While we waited in the family room I had such a peace that I was able to work on my Sunday School lessons for the next week.  This peace was not centered on Byron surviving these situations, it was centered on God taking care of me no matter what happened. 

And most recently when Byron passed away.  I felt God’s peace once again in the hours we spent saying good by to Byron as he lay passed in the hospital room. 

There have been other times I have experienced this peace of God but this is only a blog, not a book, so I will limit my shared experiences.  According to the definition of worldly peace, I should not have had peace at any of these times.  But God is greater than this world and His love and His power and His care extend beyond all we know in our finite world.   

Counter Attack

Yesterday was the one year anniversary of the death of my son, Byron.  Expecting it to be a difficult day the family had made plans for the evening to all get together at my daughter’s home and eat some of Byron’s favorite foods such as wings and Magnum ice cream bars. 

The night before I went to bed praising God. I made the decision to praise God all day yesterday no matter what.  I know from the Bible and I know from tons of personal experience that God truly does inhabit the praises of His people.  I also know beyond any doubt that Satan has to flee when God’s people praise Him.  So not knowing how hard and difficult yesterday would be, I made the choice to praise God through song and prayer and spoken words through out the day.  And the one year anniversary day turned out to be a good day filled with bittersweet memories, family time and laughter, and new memories made. 

As my husband and I sat in a coffee shop we started talking about how the day was going.  I told him what my plan had been and then got to think that maybe this is the way God wants us to treat every day of our life.  Maybe this is what putting the armor of God on is all about.  Entering the day, expecting Satan to do all he can to cause our downfall, and counter attacking with praises for our Lord and King. 

I have to admit I have never truly understood what putting the armor of God on means for me, and maybe God is teaching me this firsthand.  Something to ponder… 

Lesson Turned Discipline

God has given humans the unique capacity to observe their own thoughts.  Resulting in the possibility to monitor our thoughts and make choices about out thoughts.  “Worry is largely a matter of thinking about things at the wrong time” ~ Sarah Young from Jesus Today.  

I often subscribe to the philosophy that where matters of the heart and mind are concerned, timing is everything.  Thirty years ago when I was going through a heart breaking gut wrenching divorce and custody battle I would find my stomach growing into  knots.  I soon learned to stop and consider what I was thinking about at the time when I would feel this physical pain in my stomach.  99.9% of the time I was reflecting on mean words spoken to me or by me, jealous thoughts of the “other woman”, hateful acts, etc. 

I made a conscious effort when I would catch myself thinking about these things, to start singing praises to God.  By this time in my life I had been a Christian for about 10 years.  And since I love to sing, I had learned a lot of praise songs over the years.  And there were a few short stanzas I would sing over and over, many times through tears, many times with voice breaking because of the raw emotion I was feeling at the time.  By doing so each and every time my spirit was lifted out of the miry den of self absorption to a higher plane of God focus.  At first this praise discipline would result in only minutes of higher relief, but with lots and lots of practice it became second nature to praise God in song when feeling hurt and pain. 

 

Eleven months ago my adult son passed away 10 days after receiving a heart transplant.  The new heart did not give out; his weakened body succumbed to a massive infection that  quickly fought all antibiotics.  I was at home in my pjs at 10pm when I got the call from my daughter that Byron was dying.  Nurses and doctors had been performing CPR for over 25 minutes at this point.  After being advised by the doctor that it was time to let Byron go, I hung up.  My husband was 250 miles away; my other daughter and her husband were at the hospital.  I got dressed, headed to the hospital 40 minutes a way. 

During that 40 minute drive I went into default mode after years of discipline training and sang praise songs to God.  I knew this was my only survival.  Who knew that a lesson - turned discipline - 30 years prior would be my survival kit to get me through the darkest night of my life?  God knew.

Healing

Scars are a sign of healing.  I was thinking about this today as I looked at the scars from my ankle surgery.  In a few days I will have another surgery with a new incision going right on top of the current scar.  As much as we may not like the scar, it does mean healing has taken place.  And for that we need to be grateful.  Even if the scar can bring ridicule from others.

My son had his first open heart surgery when he was 2 years old.  He had over 120 stitches in his little chest.  As he got older and started swimming lessons I remember him being very reluctant to take off his shirt.  He finally told me he knew other kids would make fun of his scar on his chest.  I think that was the first time I told Byron that his scar was a sign of healing and how brave he was to go through all he had to, to get that scar.

Over the years of Byron growing up we had this conversation several times.  When he became interested in girls as a teenager, he just knew once a girl saw his scar she would cower away from him.  I told him then that the "right" girl for him would not be bothered by this scar.  That she would see him for all the good character he possessed and not care what the scar looked like.  He could use the girl's reaction to gauge his future with her.

How do you view your scars?