The Reason for the Season

It was a busy evening in the emergency department.  Patients with chest pains and coughs and weird rashes were waiting for test results and hoping to leave before midnight.

In the midst of this semi-organized chaos, an ambulance pulled up with a four year old boy who had experienced a seizure at home.  As the EMS crew wheeled him in to the department, he went into another seizure.  As the emergency room physician gave some orders, the boy's father arrived.  "Doctor," he said plaintively.  "Why is he seizin'?  Why is he seizin'?"

"I don't know yet,"  the doctor told him, even as he choked back the desire to tell him, "Don't you know that Jesus is the reason for the seizin'?"

Christmas is a busy time.  It is a time of working extra hard to get a few days off,  a time of baking cookies for folks in jail and for neighbors, and a time of visiting people in nursing homes.  There is an awful lot of "good" busyness this time of year and in that, it is awfully easy to forget the Reason for the Season.

Of course, Jesus is the Reason for the Season and while He came to earth as a little baby, He didn't stay a tiny child.  The Incarnation was just one little step on a long road that lead to a cross and then to a victorious morning, three days later.  Without any of these steps, there would be no salvation.

I was reading the words to the poem "I heard the Bells on Christmas Day," recently.  It is easy to forget, in this time of terrorism and these days of chaos that there have been other dark times.  Longfellow penned these words during the American Civil War, when Longfellow's son had been seriously wounded and his wife had recently died.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said:
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

In these words, I find hope in this time of darkness. For, I know that Jesus did bring peace -- not to the world as a whole, but to the hearts of those who trust Him.

What You Don't Know...

"What happened?"  I asked the middle aged gentleman resting in the hospital bed.

"Well, I guess my sugar got a little high," Clifford told me.

"How did that happen?"  I asked him.

"Well, it's a long story.  I guess it started because my sugars were so good.  They were always less than 150.  So, I decided to go off my metformin and I started drinking regular pop.  And everything was going great, except that I had to urinate all of the time and I was thirsty a lot.  So I just started drinking more."

"You were drinking regular soft drinks?"

Clifford looked a little sheepish.  "Well, I was drinking a gallon of whole milk a day, too.  Anyway, my girlfriend thought some of my symptoms might have been related to my sugar going up and so I decided to check my sugar and it just read high."

At the Emergency Department, his sugar had been 764 -- much higher than it was supposed to be.

If "ignorance is bliss, tis folly to be wise."  Perhaps denial is simply the pursuit of ignorance despite all symptoms to the contrary.  Somehow, deep inside of us, there is a feeling that what we don't know can't hurt us -- at least very much.

Perhaps one of the things I can really do as a doctor, is to shine light on to the areas where folks really aren't very healthy and encourage them to do better -- sometimes with medication, sometimes with healthier lifestyle choices.

We have come to a time of year where we remember Jesus' birth. 

When John wrote about Jesus, he described Him as a light shining in the darkness.  Certainly there is plenty of darkness around us, but worse yet, is the darkness that is inside of us.  There are places inside that we don't want to look at, don't want anyone else to see and Jesus came to shine His light on them -- not to hold those areas up for ridicule, but to provide healing in a way that no one else could.

The easiest thing is to say that we don't need healing, that everything is fine.  There are a lot of other people in worse shape out there.  But beneath the surface, we all know that we aren't OK and people wouldn't accept us if they knew who we really are.

Jesus does know.  That's why He came to earth.  And if our sin is exceedingly dark, His light is infinitely more strong than it is.

What you don't know can hurt you and denial can certainly land you in the hospital.

Just ask Clifford.

A New Language

It is hard work to learn a new language.

It still remember when, at the age of eighteen, I landed in Guatemala City and disembarked from my plane to do six months of voluntary service work.  Looking at the signs and hearing people chattering away in an unfamiliar tongue was disconcerting.

I knew almost no Spanish at all.  I could ask people how they were, what was their name, or where the bathroom was, but odds were I would have absolutely no idea what they told me in response.  I had a Spanish-English Dictionary and a desire to learn.

I eventually did learn Spanish -- at least enough that I can get around pretty well in Central America.  I found in that time, that it takes a lot of practice to learn a new language.  In the beginning, you have to translate everything in your head into your native language and the reverse when you are speaking.  It is so easy to get lost two sentences into a conversation, because you are stuck on a word back somewhere in the first sentence.

Eventually, you stop translating and just start speaking the new language.  You think in it.  You even dream in it.

It seems to me, that Jesus came to earth to teach us a new language.

Prior to His ministry, the rule was an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.  Jesus came to teach us to love our enemies.

The language of love, as Jesus taught it, is a tough language to learn.  It involves seeing people in need and reaching out to them.  It involves giving until it hurts and then, giving some more until it stops hurting.

In the beginning, when we are learning the language of love, we have to translate everything into this language.  For me, it means asking the question, "How can I show love to this patient I'm seeing?"  The answer often translates into more time spent and more listening.

I can't say I'm very good at speaking this language.  I fall back all too easily into my old, self-centered behaviors, but with practice, it will come.

Jesus said:  "By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

It is hard work to learn another language, but anyone can do it, if they will only practice.

Thanksgiving

Yesterday was Thanksgiving.  It is a day, when Americans traditionally eat too much and then lie down to spend an unquiet afternoon watching football.

Hopefully at some point, they feel grateful before they rush out to beat the crowds to buy the next electronic gadget that they really don't need.

When the Pilgrims celebrated a day of Thanksgiving in 1621, it was not because they had so much.  They had suffered much in their first year on American soil.  Many of their number had died and by modern standards, their houses were small and hardly insulated to face the harsh Massachusetts winter that lay before them.

Despite having little enough and no Black Friday sales to look forward to, these men and women sat down to a meal that focused not on themselves and their wants and desires and needs, but on the One who gave them what little they had.

What is it that makes us feel grateful?  Certainly it isn't having enough, because there have been plenty of times that I have had more than enough and I still was far from thankful.  It definitely isn't knowing folks that are worse off, because I know those people too and I still struggle with ungratefulness.

It is said that nine out of ten healed lepers don't think to say thank you. 

I sit here trying to figure out what makes the difference.  Why some people are grateful for little, while others are discontented with much.  I think there are many reasons, but I think gratitude is a conscious decision. 

You don't become a thankful person because you just happen into it, you become thankful because you look for ways that God's grace is revealed to you in your every day activities.  There are ways each day that the people you work with and spend time with, bless you.  In those moments, you must find ways to express your thanks.

More than that, thankful people find ways in which to pass on the grace that they have been given to others.

Thanksgiving is not about eating too much, or even making lists of things we are thankful for.  It is about consciously seeing the blessings in our lives and then, even more consciously, passing them on to others.

After a Stomach Bug

It always begins in the middle of the night with the sound of a child crying.  At least that's the way it is in our home when a stomach bug invades our hallowed walls.  This is followed by the afflicted child walking aimlessly along carpeted areas vomiting periodically until they reach a non-carpeted area of our home, at which point they cease throwing up.

The whole scenario is more than a little discouraging.

This pattern is fresh in my mind, because my son Vince experienced it this last week, as did my wife and I.  As a dad, helping to clean up the mess after the fact, I had a lot of sympathy for my son, but I also wondered why he hadn't headed for a bathroom at some point during his vomitory journey.

I suppose it is moments like these that make me appreciate my mother more.  I know that there were plenty of times when she was up caring for my siblings and me in the night, knowing at the same that she would have a full day's work in the her office the next day.

I won't ever enjoy when stomach viruses come to our homes, but I am glad that I am there to help in those "not so great moments."  Some day, a long time from now, my children will be cleaning up vomit in a hallway of their own and think about what these little deeds of service really mean.

They mean love.

Turning Nine

My daughter Anna turned nine this week. 

It doesn't seem that long ago that Elaine and I went to the hospital with the hopes that our daughter would appear shortly. 

Well, we met Anna for the first time about twenty-four hours later -- a very rough twenty-four hours for me and obviously, very much harder on Elaine.  I remember that long night clearly and I remember praying a lot for two people -- one of whom I had met and loved dearly and one of whom I had never met and loved, sight unseen.

It is easy to forget how dark and uncertain those moments are, when ten minutes of pushing turns into two hours of desperation and yet, it is in moments like these that God teaches us trust.  In times like these, we grow to doubt our own strength and throw ourselves on His unlimited strength.

The darkest hour is always darkest in that moment before I fully throw myself on the strength of my Savior.

Nine years later, there is no doubt that God blessed us in the early morning hours of October 26, 2006.  He blessed us with a little baby girl, but more than that, He blessed us with the knowledge that whatever dark times we face in the future, He will go through them with us.

That fact alone brings a lot of hope to a sometimes very hopeless world.

Flu Shot Season

Flu shot season is here once more.  It seems as though you can flu shots every where -- your local pharmacy, Walmart, your grocery store, your fire station, and maybe even your family doctor's office.

When it comes to flu shots, people fall into two camps.  One side believes that they cause illness:  "Dr. Waldron, I've never been so sick as I was after you gave me that flu shot last year!  I'll never get another one!"  The other side believes that flu shots saved them from certain death:  "I got the flu shot last year and I don't think I even had one cold."

The reality is that neither camp is right.

I get vaccinated for influenza every year and I usually do get a couple of colds.  I have even had a couple of stomach viruses as well.  By God's grace, I haven't had influenza.

Influenza is an illness in which people run high fevers, get muscle aches all over, and usually have a dry cough.  It lasts two to three days and then usually goes away, leaving its victims pretty weak, but still alive.  This is the only illness that flu shot prevents.

There are a lot of other illnesses out there.

Everyone puts their trust in something.  For those who don't trust vaccines, there is something else that they do trust.  Hand washing, antibacterial scrubs, probiotics, Plexus, or maybe Essential Oils.  These are things they rely on to prevent and sometimes treat the illnesses they fear.

Flu shots are certainly not perfect -- they are made by very smart, but also fallible humans.  They are at best a limited tool in a world full of deadly viruses and bacteria.  But then again, so are all of these other things in which people are putting their trust.

On the other hand, there is One who is worthy of trust, who is neither fallible, nor limited.  There is no virus or bacteria that He does not understand and cannot heal.

I would trust God, even as I get my flu shot.  He's a lot more trustworthy than anything that humans can come up with.

Country Kids

 

My children are from the country.  This fact was made really clear to me when our family travelled out to a medical conference in Denver.

Anna, Vince, and Elliot would attempt to strike up conversations with others in the airport, on the plane, and even on the shuttle going to our rental car.  Often the person would look up from his or her smart phone with a look of distress.

In a small town, your are expected to converse with those around you, whether or not you really know them.  On the other hand, for city dwellers, it seems to be their goal to pretend that none of the thousands of people around them really exist.

Someone who lives in an urban area told me that if they acknowledged everyone around them, that's all they would get done in a day.

Perhaps that is true.

At the same time, there is something important that is lost when we lose that sense of community that is present in a small town.  It is sad that some of the loneliest people live their lives surrounded by multitudes of humans who seldom acknowledge their existence.

It is a good thing to talk to other people, even if we don't know them.  It is a blessing to interact more with real humans than with Siri.

"No man is an island."  All too often people act like they are living on a peninsula -- scarcely connected with the others around them.  Far better to reach out and speak to someone in your path today.  You both will be the better for it.

Physician Assisted Suicide

Physician assisted suicide is in the news again, as California recently became the fifth state to pass a law allowing it.  I guess it is the new "hospice," a way for people to deal with terminal illness -- a law that allows doctors to prescribe a lethal dose of narcotics for a dying person to take, if they so desire.

I have heard these sorts of laws described in terms of "choice" and "death with dignity."  In all honesty though, I feel like it is the opposite of choice and an example of the failure of modern medicine.

I have entered these dark rooms many times.  They are places where Death lies waiting just beyond the window and Suffering lies beside the patient within the bed.  It should be my goal in these situations, not to hasten death, but to bring relief of suffering.  True choice would be to offer patients a chance to have relief of pain and such light as can be brought into such darkness.

Real choice means offering dying men and women comfort, even as they are dying, not a firing squad.

This whole discussion saddens me, because it feels like a false choice.   The real decision should be between pursuing further treatment and accepting comfort care.

The end of life should not be a dark time, although it does include the sadness of good-bye.  My hope for my patients would be to provide relief of pain and also the hope of life beyond these fragile bodies.

Some day, we will be better at taking care of people at the end of their lives, than we are now.  Even so, I pray today that I might provide comfort for those in need.  I pray more, that none of my patients would ever feel that suicide is the answer to any question that comes to their mind.

Garden Thoughts

I was in my garden a couple of evenings ago picking Okra.  It's about the only thing left in the garden now, except for weeds and a few cherry tomatoes.  It always makes me a little sad.

It was a pretty good garden this year, although we have certainly had better ones in the past.  I just didn't spend enough time in it weeding and watering and generally taking care of it.

The Bible tells us that you reap what you sow and that certainly is true, but it is also very true that you reap a lot of things you don't necessarily sow as well.  An uncared for garden will quickly fill up with more varieties of weeds than I can count without taking off my shoes and socks.

There is a good feeling in the spring, when you get out in the cool fresh air and till up the soil and plant corn and bean seeds and put tomato and pepper plants in the ground, but it isn't easy in the heart of summer to get down on your hands and knees and pull weeds and kill squash bugs. 

Did I mention that I hate squash bugs?

Life is like a garden in many ways.  The laws of sowing and reaping apply.  But while people think of sowing as a one time event, what we reap is never dependent on just one day of effort.  Certainly you can mess things up in a single day, but what we reap is really dependent on multiple days of effort.

I think about it most as I raise my children.  For, children are a lot more than the scrambled genetic material of their parents.  They are human beings with minds, hearts, and desires, good points and bad points.  Raising them cannot be done in a single day or even a couple of days.

I pray for my children a lot and for myself as I touch their lives.  It is a fearful thing to have little lives entrusted into your care and to realize that someday they (and their spouses) will reap what you have sowed.

It is better to wake up each day, making a commitment to sow blessing and good, than to wake up one day in the fall angry because all your garden is producing is Okra and Weeds.

Perfect Timing

"But Dad," Elliot wailed.  "I don't want to!"

"I don't really care," I, the hard hearted father, declared.  "I want you to sit on the potty for a little while."

Elliot began again.  "But Dad, I need a book to look at while I'm on the potty."

"That's fine," I told him.  "Just choose one quickly."

He poked around for awhile, getting nowhere particularly fast.  "Elliot," I said.  "I'll choose one for you in just a second, if you don't choose one."

"But Dad," he said (a lot of his statements seem to start with "But Dad").  "I need a book that gets done when I'm done pooping.

Eventually, he chose a book that satisfied his criteria -- The Biggest Bear, as I recall.  With that in hand, he went away relatively quietly.

They say that timing is everything.  Comedians who forget the punch lines to their jokes or, just say them at the wrong moment are not particularly funny.  There is a perfect time to pick corn and beans and squash and sweet potatoes.  And I suppose there is a perfect time to finish a book.

Jesus was both the Master of Time and Timing.  Throughout the Gospel of John, He told His disciples that "My time is not yet come."  Then, near the end of His ministry, He told His disciples that "The hour has come." 

Jesus understood His purpose in this world and was ready to meet it when the time was right.  The crucifixion and the suffering and the glory to follow were upon Him and He would not put them off, even though He could.

In our lives today, Jesus continues to work.  Sometimes it may seem like things are moving too quickly and at others, too slowly, but in the fullness of time, His plans for us will come to pass.

Certainly, we can be certain that there will be suffering and hard ship.  But there will be glory too, to come in His time.

One thing is certain about Jesus, His timing is perfect.

Past Performance and Future Returns

"Past performance does not predict future returns."

This statement, or something like it appears on all stock broker advertisements.  Just because the stock market, or real estate market, or bond market has gone up six percent a year for the last eight years doesn't mean that this won't be the year that it tumbles twenty percent.  Even more importantly, even intelligent money managers will have years where their investments don't hit as well as in the past.

There is no easy prediction of what the market will do.  We tend to think that whatever happened last week is what will continue to happen for the next several months, but there certainly is no guarantee that that is true.  Those who play the market heavily are as likely to lose a bunch of money as to make a bundle.

There are many other areas of life that are unpredictable.  However as I think about God, about how faithful He has been to order the chaos in my life and bring good out of bad situations, it begs the question:  "Will His past faithfulness continue into the future or, is He like the stock market, sometimes up and sometimes down?"

If there is one thing the Bible makes clear, it is the fact that God does not change.  Theologians call this the Immutability of God, but whatever word you use, one thing is clear, God is dependable.

That is a real blessing, for people change and not always for the better, but God is the same yesterday, today and forever.

No one really knows for sure if the stock market will be up or down next week, but we can be sure of God.  The things he has done in the past are just a little sample of the wonders He will do in the future.  God doesn't have bad days.  He has said "I will never leave you or forsake you," and we can depend on that.

With God, past performance does predict future faithfulness.

That's a blessing we can't fully grasp.

Watermelons and Waiting

I'm going to go get some dirt in my bucket!"  Elliot said loudly, holding up a bright orange bucket.

"Where are you going to get dirt?"  Elaine asked him.

"In the garden," he said, which seemed safe enough.  The garden is a good place to get dirt from right now, because about all there is in it is dirt.  Well, dirt, okra, and weeds -- but certainly there is more than enough dirt there to fill up a little child-sized bucket.

Scarcely two minutes had passed when Elliot came hurrying down the hill, yelling proudly and holding something green aloft.  "Elliot David Waldron!"  Elaine said.  "Did you pick that?"

"Yes, Mom," Elliot was exuberant.  "It's a watermelon.  We can eat it."  He was right that it was a watermelon, but it wasn't such a watermelon as would ever grace the shelves of any grocery store.  It was tiny, scarcely bigger than a cantelope and when you tapped on it, it gave no satisfying hollow thud, instead it sounded pretty solid.

Of course, there is no explaining the concept of waiting to a four year old.  Within five minutes of leaving your driveway on a trip, he is ready to be there already.  When he hears about a vacation coming, he is ready to leave the following morning.  And when he sees a watermelon in the garden, he picks it immediately.

Some of this has to do with time sense.  Four year olds just don't have the same sense of time adults have.  Age certainly will let you leave unripe watermelons longer in the garden, but it doesn't necessarily bring patience.  Certainly as we get older, we get quieter while we wait, but that doesn't mean that we have a peaceful spirits in those times of pausing in daily existence.

In those moments when we are ready for the next thing to happen and nothing at all is happening, Patience walks hand in hand with Trust.  For, we can be patient only as we trust that someone greater is in charge and that He will bring things and people into our lives that we need, at exactly the right moment.

Otherwise, we may be tempted to pick the watermelons of life long before they are ripe.

That's far from a tasty proposition.

Peace and Quiet

"I'm a silent 'e,' Elliot," Vince said.  "What letter are you?"

We were out in the garden working, or at least Anna and I were.  Vince and Elliot were having an odd little conversation of their own.

"I'm a silent 'L,' Elliot replied.

"There's no such thing as a silent 'L,'" Vince told him.

"Yes there is," Elliot told him.  "I have one in my name!"

It is odd to me that my children both thought they were silent letters, because they are far from silent in every day life. 

I have thought that it would be nice to have twin girls and name them "Peace" and "Quiet," because that would be the easiest way to obtain both peace and quiet in my home.

However, I know that there will come a day when our children are gone more than they are home.  There will be days when the conversations at the dinner table will have a lot less cackling of laughter and fewer interruptions and a lot more stillness.

I don't know how much I will miss all of the non-funny comments followed by hysterical giggles, but I certainly will miss the fun of a family growing up together.

It seem to me that we tend to long for that which we do not have.  I would enjoy my children as they are now -- giggles and all -- rather than long for peace and quiet that I don't have.

I would have joy in each season of life, be they noisy, or quiet.

Crazy Eyes

It came to pass one day, as the time of school drew near, that my beautiful wife and beloved children did wend their way unto the office of a Doctor of Optometry. 

And there, they found out news, but not all of it was good.

Later that same day, my oldest son, Vince did approach me.  "Dad," he said.  "I have a Crazy Eye that doesn't see well," and so saying, he squinched up his left eye and he stared out at me from his Crazy Eye.

"I suppose that is why you need glasses," I told him.

Vince nodded his head sagely.  "Yes, Dad, glasses are for people with Crazy Eyes."

Perhaps my son is right.  Maybe it is those with Crazy Eyes who need lenses between them and the rest of the world to help them focus, but I think it is more than that.

It matters little if one has an astigmatism like Vince, or is near sighted, as I have been told my daughter Anna is, the question is whether or not you can see the world around you clearly.  If not, then a little help is just what the Doctor of Optometry orders.

The book of Proverbs says that "Where there is no vision, the people perish."  While it would be tempting to think of this as talking about a community without glasses running stop signs and cutting of digits due to lack of sight, the issue is a lot more important than that.

Vision speaks of seeing the future.

Where do you want to be in ten years?  Now, tell me what you are doing to get there.  Each decision you make is taking you farther from, or closer to your goals.  It takes a special kind of glasses to be able to focus on your own life and your own actions and evaluate where they are taking you.

So it is, that the most important vision is not the kind that optometrists can fix with lenses.  The problem is not people with Crazy Eyes, it is people who do not see themselves as God sees them and who will live in chaos as a result.

Unlocking Doors

"I can't open the door," Vince told me.

"Why not?"  I asked him.

"Because it is locked."

I went to the door of the boy's bedroom.  It certainly was locked.  It wasn't supposed to be locked, particularly with no one inside, but it was.

"Vince, did you lock it?"  I asked him.

"No," he answered.

"Did you lock it Elliot?"  I asked my younger son.

"Yes, Dad,"  Elliot said.  "I didn't want Vince to go in there."  Elliot is a little prone to doing things that aren't exactly well thought out.

I went and got something to pick the lock.  As I went to insert it into the door knob, I found that it wouldn't go.  A very small nail had been inserted into the knob and completely blocked me from getting to the lock mechanism.

"Elliot, did you put this nail in here?"

"I was trying to unlock the door," he said as a way of explanation.

I was pretty frustrated at this point.  It was time for the boys to go to sleep and I couldn't get into their room even to get their pajamas.

I tried to move the nail, or pull it out -- unsuccessfully.  The door's hinges were on the other side so that wasn't a way into the room, either.  "I'm sorry boys," I told them.  "I can't get the door open.  I'm going to put you to sleep downstairs."

They were both a little upset when I left them in the bed to return to working on the door.  I finally managed to slip a straight pin past the nail head and wiggled it till the door clicked open.  I took the knob off and extracted the nail, while Elaine went down to bring the boys up to get changed and sleep in their own beds.

As they were coming up the stairs, Vince told her:  "I was praying that God would unlock the door."

The night before we had sung a song with words by Fanny Crosby:  'Prayer is the Key.'  The chorus says: 

 

Prayer is the key, the only key,

to heaven's unfailing store.

Faith is the hand that guides our own,

but prayer unlocks the door.

 

I had explained to my children how doors are metaphorical.  God opens ways for us when we don't what to do, or where to go next.

 

But Vince knew that God unlocks literal doors.

 

With his child's faith, he reached out and asked for help.  In that moment he reminded me that no task is too big or to small for God.

 

For God hears even the smallest voice speaking to Him from an unfamiliar bed and unlocks his door.

Splint or Crutches?

"Dad," Vince asked me.  "Which do you like better, your splint or, your crutches?"

It wasn't an easy question to answer. 

I was lying on a bed in a hotel room with my leg propped up and a stirrup splint strapped to my swollen ankle and crutches beside the bed.  I wasn't grateful for anything in this picture.  In fact, I was upset at how a sprained ankle was going to spoil a family reunion for me.

As I battled self pity, I remembered a verse from Phillipians.  "Rejoice in the Lord always..."  I wondered how that applied to my situation.  What was the good thing that I could rejoice about?

It has been my tendency to try to figure out the good things that come about because of the suffering I experience.  The traffic accident I avoided because I was running late.  The lessons that I learned because of the difficulties I faced.

But the command is not to try figure out how having a sprained ankle will help me grow, or develop character or, benefit me in some tangible way.  The command is to rejoice.

I never did figure out a reason why I sprained my ankle playing Ultimate Frisbee or, why the elevators weren't working in our hotel and I had to maneuver my way up and down eight flights of steps with an ankle the size of a softball, but that doesn't matter.

My son Vince was right.  I need to have joy in the presence of pain and splints and crutches -- not because I like them, but because I serve a great God.

He's enough for every situation I face.

A Square Meal

"I want a hamburger, Dad," Elliot said.

"How do you ask?"  I asked him.

"May I please have a hamburger?"  Elliot said, very appropriately.

I studied his plate for a second.  He had already had a hot dog, green beans, and some potato chips.  I cut a hamburger in half and put one half on plate.

"Dad," he wailed.  "You cut it in half.  I wanted the whole thing!"

"You wouldn't have eaten the whole thing," I told him.  "If you are still hungry when you finish that, you can have the other half."

"But... but... Dad, I like square food and this is a rectangle!" 

I stifled a smile.  He was certainly correct that the burger had been square initially and cutting it in half made it rectangular,  but this was a reason I had never heard before.  I'm sure that Elliot thought that he wanted a whole burger, but it had nothing to do with the shape of the meat sitting in his plate.

In the same way, perhaps, there are many times that I want something and I work really hard to come up with reasons, good reasons why I want it.  And yet, if I am honest with myself, there is only one reason:  I want it.

As I think about it, it is really important that we are honest with ourselves about our motivations to get or, do things.  There is nothing more confusing than when we manufacture fake reasons to do things we just want to do.

In the end, rationalizations aren't worth much.  No more, really, than the difference in taste between square and rectangular food.

Dealing with Grief

 

Daniel was sitting in a the chair beside the door when I entered the exam room, waiting patiently for me.  We shook hands and then I sat down.

"How have you been doing?"  I asked him.

"Oh, I guess about the same as ever," he told me.

"Is that good or bad?"  I asked him.

"I think it's good," he responded.  Daniel was seventy-eight years old and only on one prescriptions medication.  He was in for visit for an annual physical and to get a refill on his medication.

I pressed a different tab on my computer and his vitals popped up.  "You've lost some weight," I said.  "Is everything OK?"

Daniel hesitated and then tears spilled out of his eyes.  "I... I just don't have as much of an appetite since Mary died.  You knew that Mary died in March?"  I had known, but I hadn't remembered it when I came into the room.  Now I did.

"I'm sorry," I said.  "I'm sure you're missing her terribly.  How are you dealing with Mary's death?"

"It's hard.  I miss her so much.  I was doing something last night and I realized it was time for us to go to bed and I started to say: 'Mary, let's go to bed,'  when it hit me that she wasn't there.  That seems to happen a lot."

These are the sort of conversations that medical school doesn't prepare you for.  What do you say to a man who has lost the love of his life -- someone he had shared everything with for the past fifty years?

Everything sounds trite and hollow. 

"She's in a better place." 

"You'll see her again some day." 

"Time will heal your wounds."

While these words may be true, they don't meet the need of the moment.  I don't know what such a loss is like, I can only imagine.  "Daniel," I said.  "I don't think there's anything that can fill the hole in your life, or take away your grief.  Time may make the wounds less fresh, but sometimes there will be things that remind you of her and bring it all back to you.  That's also an indication of how much you loved each other."

I asked him if it was OK if we prayed together and he said yes.  That's what we did.

I am no grief counselor, but it seems to me that the most import thing to do in this situation is to acknowledge the reality of the loss and the depth of the grief.  Maybe for a moment we can share in someone else's sorrow, even if we don't totally understand.

I know that burdens which cannot be borne alone can be shouldered together. 

In the darkest situations, only Jesus can shine a light that will pierce the darkness.

Traveling for the Sake of Traveling

“Classic Travel Stories.” Perhaps it sounds like an interesting book. Certainly, a book that includes an assemblage of true stories from a variety of journeys in numerous different places is sure to have excitement on every page.

This is exactly what I thought when I picked up the book and started wading through it. The stories ranged from Xenephon’s journey from Persia to Greece, to Robert Fallon Scott’s disastrous attempt on the South Pole. All were very interesting indeed, yet I found something distinctly lacking.

You see, I found that the stories of the journeys themselves did not assuage my desire to know what these various individuals did upon reaching their goals. The journey is really only a means to an end.

I know this from my own life. I do not enjoy traveling, I enjoy getting places. I hate the hours that are often necessary to reach a given destination. If it were possible to teleport from one location to another and skip the travels completely, I would gladly take advantage of such an option.

Unfortunately, in life, many people believe that the goal is not nearly as important as the journey itself. Yet, a journey without a goal; travels without an intended end are worthless.

The writer of Hebrews made it clear in chapter 12, that our focus is not on the race, but on the finish line. "Therefore, ...let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eye on Jesus..." Somehow, in spite of all the obstacles, we must arrive in glory with Him.

Life is a journey; one made either aimlessly or in a goal directed fashion. It is only as we fix our eyes on Jesus and make Him the focal point of our travels that our goal of eternity with Him will be realized.

What's Facebook good for?

An awful lot of people use Facebook these days.  According to Google, it has 1.4 billion monthly users.  Now, of course, some of those aren't real people, but still, there are at least a hundred or two folks who use the social media site regularly.

All this begs the question:  "What is Facebook good for?"

I suppose it is good for selling things and for keeping track of people who you haven't seen in a long time.  It also seems to be a good place for finding low calorie recipes and even for drooling over the occasional super-high calorie dessert recipe as well.

Most of all, I think many people use Facebook to reinforce their own strongly held beliefs and to solicit encouragement to do things they were planning to do anyway.

Unfortunately, I see biased individuals posting links to web sites with similar biases and dubious credibility.  The internet is a wonderfully large place where, however unusual my views, I can definitely find a couple of others who hold similar beliefs.

This leads me to thing that Facebook is useless for -- changing someone else's mind.  People who log onto Facebook with a strong opinion are likely to sign off with that opinion held even more strongly -- even if someone calls them a name, or attacks them personally.

I look at these arguments and wish that love would prevail.  I see the anger and desire that kindness would be the rule, rather than the exception in internet interactions.

The cause of Christ will not be furthered by yelling at people, but by loving them where they are and praying that they will accept Him.

For, when Jesus enters a life, He has a way of turning it upside down in a way that Facebook never can.

Good News, Bad News, and Hope

There are a lot of doctor jokes out there.  Many of the ones I have heard are "good news - bad news" jokes.

A doctor comes out to his patient after surgery and tells him:  "I have some good news and bad news."

"What's the bad news, Doc?"

"We cut off the wrong leg in surgery."

"That's terrible.  What's the good news?"

"It looks like your other leg is getting better."

These jokes always bother me a little because of the almost gleeful way in which doctors dispense the most depressing information.  Of course, they are just jokes, but I know how hard it is to share bad test results and how hard I work in these moments not to steal hope away.

It is in these dark-as-midnight moments that people need a little light.  It is never a joke that lifts their spirits, for jokes lose their funniness in these events, but hope.  Somehow, I have to convey that I will not give up and that I will do whatever I can to help them through this time.

Most of all, I turn to prayer.

For, even when medical science holds little hope and when every moment feels like another good bye, there is One who offers light in the darkness, One who promises that we will not have to cross Jordan alone, if we are His.

When I have only bad news and worse news to impart, Jesus holds out hope.  That's just what this dark world needs most.

 

What Goes on Vacation?

We got back from vacation a couple of weeks ago.  Over time, I have discovered that vacations are fun and if not totally stress-free, certainly they lack the normal every day stresses I experience at home.

I leave my pager behind.  I don't answer cell phone calls from people I don't want to talk to.  I leave my computer at home.  I sleep in till 5:45 am.

When I am on vacation, I am no longer a doctor, I am just me.

At the same time, there are certain things I don't (can't) take a vacation from.  I am a father and a husband.  I can't, in the middle of hiking to Laurel Falls, decide I am going to leave my kids to figure things out on their own.  Even as we are leaving for Cade's Cove, I need to remember to let my wife know that I love her.

Being a dad is awesome, but it does involve a lot of responsibility.

More importantly, I do not take a vacation from my relationship with Christ.  I speak with Him and listen to Him every day, just as I would at home.

It seems to me that the things that are truly a part of who you are will never be left behind when you leave your home.  They are qualities and actions that you demonstrate wherever you are and whoever you might be with.

Whether I am in the Smokies, or in Paoli, or at the Shaker Village in Kentucky, my goals are the same.  I would be a good dad, a loving husband, and most of all, I would please my Savior, Jesus Christ.

Of Lilacs and Dandelions

"Do you like the way Lilacs smell?"  I asked my sons, who were sitting at the kitchen table eating a very nourishing breakfast.

Vince just looked at me and said nothing.  Apparently he has no opinion about such trivial things as flower smells.  Now if I had asked him a question about Thomas, that would have been a different story.

Elliot spoke up.  "No Dad, I don't like the way Lilacs smell."

"Really?"  I said.  "What flowers do you like then?"

"I like the way Dandelions smell,"  Elliot said firmly.

I must confess that I am not in total disagreement with my son about the smell of lilacs.  They are currently blooming at my home and it is just too much.  Every time I open my back door, it is as though a phalanx of purple hatted ladies, each of whom had just dowsed herself in perfume, is waiting to assault me.

To this point I have survived, but just barely.

On the other hand, I can't say that I am too impressed with Dandelions.  Perhaps it is the way they poke their fuzzy heads above the lawn, or pop up in the flower beds, but I don't see much beauty in them.  I have absolutely no idea how (or even if) they smell.

Perhaps that is just my loss.  For, there is more beauty in a bouquet of Dandelions in a child's sweaty hand that he is holding out to his mother than in all of the royal jewels in Europe.  Even if they don't look like peace roses, there is an intrinsic beauty that God placed within them.

But it is more than that.

In the end, it is not the smell of flowers, or the delicacy of their blooms, but the love with which they are given that makes all the difference.

A Large Case of Strep

The smallest deeds make the biggest difference in this world. This is particularly true when they are done in a spirit of giving and humility. I must confess that there have been many times that I have forgotten this. It seems that every time I forget, I am reminded of it by something in my life or practice.

In my three years of residency training I saw hundreds, possibly thousands of patients. Numerous times I was awakened in the middle of the night to admit dying patients or to go rushing up the stairs in a desperate attempt to stave off death in the Intensive Care Unit. In this whole three years I received only two thank you notes from patients. Of these two, one of them stands out clearly in my mind.

It was a busy day in my clinic in my second year of training. I was working in the office seeing patients after having been up most of the previous night on call. I was trying (unsuccessfully) to get done early when my nurse told me that the front office had added another patient on to my schedule.

I swallowed my frustration as I went in to see little Alex. He was just a year and a half old. His mother was a Russian immigrant who spoke poor English. She was on the brink of tears. She explained, in broken sentences, that Alex had run high fevers over the last two days and he was not drinking very much.

I examined him carefully and quickly discovered the source of the child’s fever. His tonsils were huge and swollen with white patches. A quick throat swab confirmed the diagnosis: Strep Throat. After my nurse had given him a shot of penicillin, I assured his mother that Alex would be better soon.

Two weeks later I received an envelope at the office. In it was a card from Alex’s mother, thanking me for curing her son. Reading the broken sentences within, you would have thought that I had saved Alex from death, not cured him from Strep Throat. Yet, in his mother’s eyes I had done much.

These are the things that matter most. It is said that we are called, not to do great things, but to do small things with great love. This is true.

To take care of small matters is very important. There are so many more cases of Strep Throat than there are cases of meningitis to treat and yet, there is a tendency to believe that those with Strep Throat don’t really matter since their problem is small in comparison. Nothing could be further from the truth, for problems that may seem small to others are huge to those experiencing them – even if they just have Strep Throat.

Opossums Are Special

Opossums are ugly -- at least to everyone but other opossums.  They are slow and anything but fierce.  No one would think of naming their sports team after them.  Somehow the "Paoli 'Possums" doesn't sound like it would strike fear in the heart of any but the most timid opponent.

At the same time, there is something special about opossums:  LTNF.

It turns out that opossums have something in their blood stream called Lethal Toxin Neutralizing Factor or, LTNF for short.  Opossums are not harmed by the bites of venomous snakes, or the stings of scorpions or bees.  LTNF even neutralizes the effects of the effects of botulinum toxin and the chemical weapon Ricin.

I had always heard that after World War III, only the cockroaches would survive to take over the world.  Maybe it would actually be the opossums.  Somehow "Planet of the 'Possums" doesn't sound like a big hit, though.

The reality is that God has made each opossum, each animal, and each human with individual attention to detail.  Psalm 139 says "I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.  Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well."

It is tough for me to appreciate the amazing detail that God placed into the people around me.  I -- and everyone else -- are part an amazing creation, and each one of us has been given individual, unique talents that serve a purpose.

There is something amazing about us all -- speedy cheetahs and powerful elephants and tiny lap dogs.

Even beady eyed, slow of foot, not-sure-if-they're-really-dead opossums.

When I'm on My Rocker

"I slept like a baby last night."

I've heard people say this before and I can only imagine that they don't have a new baby at home.  New babies cry a lot.  They cry when they are tired, when they are hungry, when they have a messy diaper, and just generally when they want to (and apparently for no reason at all).

Not that Victoria Grace has been a fussy baby, but she has had her moments.  Elaine and I both have had lots of time holding her and trying to rock her to sleep in the wee hours of the morning.

I don't know what people usually think about when they are rocking their infants at 2:30 am.  Maybe they think about how awesome it is to have a baby to rock or, how tired they will be the next day or, about how tired they are at this exact minute.  I know that I've had all these sorts of thoughts.

What I like to do most in these times, is to pray.  For, I have found in those quiet, dark hours between the sunset and the dawn, that I can focus on my heavenly Father, even as I hold my own child.  I can tell Him about everything that is going on and most particularly, share with Him my hopes and fears for my little girl and her future.

There are many moments of down time in each day (maybe there are fewer now that everyone has cell phones with them at all times).  It is important to take these moments and use them for more than completing the next level of Candy Crush (or whatever the hot game is right now).

Children certainly do not make you draw closer to God, nor do the down times within each day.  And yet, there are plenty of little moments that fill each day to do so, if you take advantage of them.

I have to say my favorite "down time," is cuddling a three week old in the stillness of a predawn morning.

Those prayers just have to be a little extra worthwhile.

Flagging for the Lord

Southern Indiana has turned into a construction zone over the last two years.  I see orange barrels so often that I am afraid one night, I will wake up screaming in terror, as one chases me down an unfinished road and over a cliff.  It hasn't happened yet, but it certainly could.

Of course, with orange barrels come flaggers.  A sign along the side of the road says "One Lane Road Ahead," and around the corner is standing an unfortunate soul, whose job it is to wave a sign informing motorists that they must stop, as the next stretch of road is too narrow for two vehicles to pass at once.

The flaggers all seem to be a little unhappy.  They stand sullenly, staring blankly everywhere except at the drivers of the vehicles they are stopping -- that is, all except for one.  There is one middle aged gentleman, who holds his sign and smiles at the cars going by, waving frequently at the passing motorists.  I don't know him, or anything about him, but it seems that he is doing his best to cheer the hearts of those around him.

With every job there is a way to do it and get it done (hopefully well) and there is a way to do it and make it a blessing to others.  I hadn't really thought it was possible to do this as a flagger, but this man proved me wrong.

I think about this as I see patients.  There are times that I am slogging through my day, a little too tired to smile, just diagnosing folks and prescribing medications, but I really want to go beyond that.  I want to share a smile, listen to the thoughts behind the words.

I am not just working for the coughing people who walk through my doors, I am working for Jesus.  As I bless those I see, I am also blessing Him.

There is a way to do every job in such a way that it blesses others.  Even it is just smiling and waving at the frustrated motorists on the highway of life.

An Easier Life

"I wish I could trade songs with Vince!"  Anna wailed as she sat at the piano bench with tears streaming down her cheeks.  "His songs are easy!  Mine are terribly hard!"

"But Anna," I told her.  "Vince hasn't been playing as long as you have and so of course, his songs are easier.  He'll get to your songs down the road."

There was no consoling her. Her songs were just too hard and Vince's were easier.  It just wasn't fair.

Of course, I didn't mention to her that I am sure her piano teacher has some other students are playing songs quite a bit harder than Anna's songs too.  How fair is that?

This is the danger of comparisons.  It seems like when we compare our situations, our talents, or even our children to others, we end up in one of two places.

Either we choose folks who are better off than ourselves, have better behaved children, and easier life circumstances and end up feeling dissatisfied with our lot or, we contrast ourselves with people who have less talent, worse life situation, and terribly behaved children and feel good about how successful we have been.  Neither one of these comparisons is useful.

The Apostle Paul says "For we would not dare to classify or compare ourselves with some of those who recommend themselves.  But when they measure themselves by themselves and compare themselves with themselves, they are without understanding."  Comparisons with others only lead to poor understanding of who I am and what my goal is.

My goal is not to be better than another human, it is to be like Christ.

Even when my life isn't easy, when my children aren't well behaved, or my baby doesn't sleep enough, I would not compare myself to others.  Maybe there are better children out there, people with easier lives, who get more sleep, but it doesn't matter.  These life circumstances and children are the ones God picked out for me.

I wouldn't choose differently if I could.

Small Packages

 

"I want to see her teeth!"  Elliot said emphatically.

"Well, dear, she doesn't have any yet,"  Elaine told him.

His sister walked over.  "Victoria can't bite you, because she doesn't have any teeth!"  Elliot told her, as if this was the most important thing to settle.

Our household is still getting adjusted to a tiny package that was delivered just a week ago, after a nine month wait.  This tiny package has a name.  Victoria Grace.

As I think about my small daughter's arrival, it brings certain things to my mind.

Anything worth having is worth waiting for.

I don't know that any of us would have wanted to wait for ten months for her to arrive, but we certainly didn't want her to come any sooner than she did.  Something about waiting for her makes us love her even more, now that she is here.

The best things in life are often contained in the smallest of packages.

Victoria Grace weighed just 6 lbs 11 oz, but, she brought an amazing amount of joy and change within our home. 

It doesn't change a mother's love one bit if her baby only weighs a pound or two at birth.  The blessings are still there, the prayers are more constant, and the love even deeper, if possible, as she watches her little one fight back from prematurity.

Just because something happens normally a hundred times does not make it less of a miracle.

I have attended many deliveries in my time and perhaps by now, it should be stale.  Just one more baby entering a fairly well populated world.  But it isn't stale at all.

For, we are fearfully and wonderfully made and God's hand is clearly visible from birth on. 

As I stand by the basinet of my children and of other children that I have delivered, I silently pray a blessing on their lives.  It is a dark world.  There is much fear and hate and suffering.

I pray that in this, they might find God's light and Christ's love.

I pray that they would grow up to share it with others.

Even, share it with those who have no teeth.

Spring Peepers

A couple of weeks ago, snow filled the air and the temperatures plummeted to below zero.  Crazy weather for the first week of March in southern Indiana.  Then, scarcely a week later, it was sixty degrees and my children and I were running around outdoors without any jackets on.

That's when I heard the sound.  High pitched.  Fluctuating a little.  It is a sound that always brings a smile to me face.

The sound of spring peepers.

It is no bird that sings so loudly.  This sound is produced in the throats of many, many tiny frogs, barely an inch long.  Sitting in the mud, they raise their voices to say that yes, spring is on its way.

These are tiny creatures.  Each one with its little voice that has very little impact.  And even though it is swallowed up in the sounds of a huge Universe, each one still sings.

They are not singing to impress me or, other humans.  They are not even singing to other frogs.  They are singing because God made them with that one talent and they will use it to their utmost, for Him.

There are many times that I feel my voice is weak and far from beautiful.  There are times that I feel that my talents aren't very useful.  And yet, I still would praise my Maker, while I've breath.

It isn't for the other humans around me or, even to lift myself up on some emotional high, that I sing.  Rather it is for an audience of One, who is my focus.

It is a huge Universe and I am small.  No one has ever yet paid to hear me sing.  Still, God hears and hears the thought and the love behind my song.

And He accepts it.

That's why the Spring Peepers sing.

That's why I sing too.

The Wages of Dieting

The man sitting across from me cleared his throat uncomfortably.  "Well...” he said in a grumbly sort of voice that told me that he didn't like the subject of our current conversation.

We were talking about his diabetes and how he was following his diet, which I could tell by his reaction, he wasn't.  I flipped open his chart to look at the lab results that it contained. They told the story themselves.  His blood work had consistently increased since his diagnosis of diabetes 3 years previously.  The medications had initially made a big impact, but now, they seemed to be doing very little.

Kenneth cleared his throat again and began telling me the story about some man who came over to his house every evening to eat supper.  I couldn't see what it had to do with everything else that we were talking about, but I didn't want to cut him off either, so I listened, less than raptly.

"Yup," Kenneth was saying  "He comes over every evening whether I invite him or not.  He's an old guy and just as cheap as they come.  Why he wouldn't even pay to have his wife get a proper head stone.  Just got the cheapest thing they would give him and stuck it in the cemetery...” I wondered idly if it was worth saying anything more about Kenneth's diabetes or if it was a lost cause.

Kenneth continued "Last night I made a cake..."

"With real sugar?"  I asked.

"Yes,” he answered brazenly enough. "But I only had two small pieces and then Bill came over and wondered if I had any sweets in the house.  Well, I told him I did and showed him the cake.  Well, do you know what he did?"

I could guess easily enough.  "He finished the cake."

"Yes, he did! How did you know?"

"I just guessed.  Does Bill have diabetes?"  I asked, innocently enough.

"Oh, yes. But he doesn't follow his diet at all.  He'll eat anything, particularly if it's sweet.  He just doesn't stop."

Now I could see it all.  Kenneth was telling me this story, not to distract me from scolding him over his diet, but to pardon himself. "See," he was saying.  "I know someone who is much worse than myself.  I'm really not so bad."

This of course is human nature.  It is difficult to change our actions and so, we find people around us who are "worse" than we are and point at them.  Someone is following their diet worse than we are, or someone is exercising less than we are.  It makes us feel better about ourselves, without our really having to change a thing about ourselves.

Unfortunately, when it comes to sin, it is not enough to point to someone worse off than us. The Bible tells us "All have sinned and come short of the glory of God." (Romans 3:23)  There is no question that there are plenty of others around that are full of sin, but the question is whether we personally have made an attempt to make things right with God.  Until we are willing to do that, we will be stuck with the wages of sin -- death.

Simple Fun

Somehow this week, we were hit by another six inches of snow.  It was pretty late for such weather here, but it gave my children and me one more chance to go sledding

I've always wondered who came up with the idea of sledding.  Who decided to take a board and smooth it out and shape it, just so they could climb to the top of a high snowy hill and try slide down?

Even now, sleds are pretty ancient technology.  Other than the fact that most are now made of plastic, there isn't much that has been updated.  There are no shock absorbers, no brakes, and no safety features like seat belts or, air bags.  Not that you would really want to be strapped to one of these thin plastic toboggans anyway, in case of a wreck.

The biggest thing about them, is that they are fun.

Watching my children careening down our hill on these sleds makes me remember what fun is.  Genuine fun is simple, contagious, and shared.

I am afraid that too many in this world have forgotten that.  With all of the high tech devices out there and the complex game worlds that have been designed for them, the simplicity is gone and the shared aspect is left behind.

I would hope that for a few moments people would put away their phones, grab their kids and a sled and share a little winter joy together.  And when they are tired, come inside and drink hot chocolate together and pull out a board game and have more fun.

In the midst of this simple fun, something greater happens.  Relationships are formed, memories are made, and joy is kindled in eyes and hearts.

It doesn't really matter who was the first person to sled.  It is just important that we experience fun as a family.

Make it simple.

Make it shared.

That's what your children will remember.

Room to Grow

When I was growing up, my mother was a firm believer that you should buy clothes with "room to grow."  This meant that my clothes never fit at the beginning of the school year and sometimes not at the end of the school year, either.

At the beginning of my third grade year, my mother went out and bought me new shoes.  They were very nice, but they were big enough that they kept slipping off. 

At recess, we had a game of kick ball going.  When it was my turn, I ran up and viciously kicked the ball.  Unfortunately, my shoe traveled farther than the ball did, flying out and landing just past second base.

It was very embarrassing.

These days, I don't  buy my clothes with room to grow.  I achieved my adult height long ago and while I may get bigger around the waist, I would prefer to remain the same size.

At the same time, there are areas in my life where I hope I never stop growing -- in knowledge, in kindness, and in wisdom.  In love for God and love for those around me.

I'm afraid in a spiritual sense, it is all too easy to reach a place where we feel like we are good enough and become complacent.  There is little need for spiritual growth when you believe you have achieved everything you need to achieve.

I am afraid that there are lots of people who, having reached base camp at Mt. Everest never have a desire to climb higher.  Just being there is good enough for them.

At the same time, the giants for God did not become so overnight.  Day by day they experienced growth.  Through trials and tempests they struggled on, never complacent, never satisfied.

They were always looking for a closer walk with God and a deeper connection in prayer.

They always bought their spiritual clothes with a little room to grow.

That's how I want to live.

Surprises

I don’t like surprises. It is not astonishing, since in my business, they are almost always of a negative nature. They usually begin with a telephone call at 2 am and an apologetic, breathless nurse on the other end saying something like: “I’m sorry to bother you Dr. Waldron, but…” It all goes down hill from there.

A couple of years after I began practice, I remember one such event.

 

My patient Caesar had been in the hospital for four days and he was going to a nursing home. “Not long term.” I had assured him. He would only stay there long enough to get his strength back and then he would return to his own home.

Caesar was a cantankerous old man who had lived in the community for all of his 76 years. He experienced a small stroke and now had some residual weakness. Not a lot of weakness, but enough to keep him from going straight home.

It was two o’clock in the afternoon on my day off when I received the telephone call. The nurse on the other end was breathless. “Dr. Waldron, Mr. Campbell is not doing very well.” I grimaced internally. That statement could mean almost anything, but it was almost definitely bad. “What’s going on?” I asked.

“He’s breathing much harder and he can’t seem to catch his breath…”

I listened with half my mind, inwardly reviewing his medical problems. When the nurse finished speaking, I gave some orders. I finished by telling the nurse that I would be right in.

The nurse had been right about Caesar. He wasn’t doing very well. His breathing was labored and he was using his chest muscles to assist with every breath. As his labs and imaging results began to come back, the cause became much clearer. He had developed a pulmonary embolism.

A blood clot to the lungs in a young person is bad enough, but in a 76 year old with emphysema it is life threatening. I had the nurses call the family to come in.

Caesar’s only daughter arrived and I went over the situation with her. I asked her is she knew her father’s wishes about being ventilated. She shook her head. “I don’t think he does, but I’m not sure. Have you asked him?”

I hadn’t, so we went together to his bed. Caesar was laboring to breathe, but he was still alert. I explained the situation to him and asked if he wanted to be put on a ventilator. He shook his head no. “You understand that you will probably die if we don’t put you on the machine?” I asked.

Caesar nodded “I don’t… want… machine.” He gasped out.

I wrote orders to make him comfortable and to try to stop the clot, and then stood at the foot of his bed, feeling helpless. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Caesar was supposed to get well and go home. I had promised him as much.

Caesar’s daughter seemed to sense some of my helplessness, for she rose from her chair at Caesar’s bedside, and touched my arm. “It’s OK.” She said simply. “It’s what dad wants.”

She spoke the truth. He had not wanted a ventilator. As I stood there, I realized that I was feeling sorry, not for Caesar, but for myself. It is the nature of young physicians to believe that they can predict and control all in their patient’s lives. I felt distress for not having predicted this embolism and as I realized this, a kind of peace came to my life.

For, I learned what many physicians never learn. I learned that human life is hopelessly complex and that no one can completely understand it. I learned that the most important thing is to follow the patient’s wishes. Most of all, I learned that I am not God. Despite all of my efforts, some things cannot be controlled. There will always be surprises and that will not come as a surprise to me again.

Seeing the Light

As I was driving home from work last night, there were clouds everywhere.  The sky was a slate gray, with the sun hiding somewhere just above the western horizon.  Then, suddenly, for a brief moment the sun poked its head out, lighting up the edges of the clouds and turning the heavens all orange and pink.

As I looked at the beautiful sunset, I realized that the loveliest sunsets have clouds.  The sun sinking behind a ridge on a cloudless day is not nearly as breath taking as the sun shining through broken clouds.

It is the contrast between the clouds and the sun that lets us see and appreciate the beauty of the sun.  It is the darkness that makes us reach towards the light.  It is the sorrow of death that makes us hope for heaven.

I have found that this world is a very dark place.  There is anger and hatred.  Sadness abounds on every side.  I wonder how to explain this sort of a world to my children.

I cannot explain to them the evil that is around us.  I cannot understand it.  But it isn't important that they understand it.  It is far more important that they know that they are loved and in that love they can feel secure, whatever winds may blow.

It is in these sorts of times that I seek my Heavenly Father's face.  For, I cannot comprehend this world and its darkness.

As I stand before Him, God doesn't explain the mystery of the darkness to me.  He only shows to me His light and His love.  In that moment, I understand a little better who He is and how great His love is for me.

And that's enough.