From Your Lips to God's Ears

This morning was tough.  Over the past couple of days Wes has been responding less and less and he’s been losing ground physically.  They have not been taking him out of bed as much and even with two nurses or aides assisting he is hardly able to stand or turn on his own.  He still knows us, we know he still understands because once in a while we get the tiniest little eyebrow lift, sometimes the tiniest little smile, but mostly he sleeps in that locked room that is his mind.  He’s not been eating that great today; I need to keep him to the softer foods and much smaller bites than he’s used too, both things that don’t thrill him.  They’ve added a thickener to his water as well so that he doesn’t choke on the thin liquid and he doesn’t like that either, that he’s made pretty clear and I can’t say that I blame him one bit!  But, they have no choice since swallowing is a difficulty we don’t want him choking on anything.  Pills are even getting a bit trickier as well and the nurses are willing to try anything to make things work for him.  They are an amazing group of men and women!

I woke up during the night with a headache, the first really bad headache I’ve had since we came here nearly 3 weeks ago, which is a record for me especially because normally when I’m stressed out I have any number of headaches or migraines, so I’m very grateful for this minor one.  Anyway, I took a couple of Advil, grabbed the ice pack that the nurses had given me and froze my head into blissful sleep…well, somewhat blissful sleep, mostly I just felt like someone had knocked me over the head with a baseball bat and out I was!  It was still there this morning when I woke up – shoot!  Another dose of Advil and a long hot shower has gotten it under control, but, it’s still there and now after the third round of Advil I think we’re heading for the home stretch of a pain-free head.  These kinds of headaches are ones that tend to hit my emotions out of the park as well, ok, that’s maybe enough baseball metaphors.  Headaches also tend to make me think I’m funnier than I really am (as you may have noticed) and they make me a little extra tired and a whole lot extra weepy (didn't know that was possible).

Anyway, it was a busy morning this morning, as our mornings typically are.  The nurses get him ready for the day and that completely tires him out, the doctor comes in and we chat, I try to feed him breakfast and chat, but he’s not in a chatty mood today, the nurses come in and we chat, the doctor comes again and we chat some more.  Not the ‘Hey, look it’s snowing’ kind of chat, but, deeper more difficult chats about what everyone is noticing or not noticing, how we’re doing and how should we do some things differently for Wes.  So, I needed a breather, my mind was in overdrive and I needed a place to think and I needed prayer, not with the preamble of a lot of other conversation thrown in the mix, that was not what I was after right now, I was simply thirsty, really thirsty for prayer.  So, I randomly threw a prayer out there to God, asking if maybe there was someone that he could send to pray with me or maybe Wes & me.  I'm not being disrespectful to God when I make these kinds of random requests to Him and I think you know the kind of prayer I’m talking about, the ones that aren’t so formal, you can speak them as your walking and they don’t start with ‘Dear God’ and they don’t end with ‘Amen’.  You just literally throw out the words from your heart to God’s ear and hope for the best.

So, I walked out of our room and wasn’t sure where I was headed, but I just wanted to be alone for a short while.  I landed up in the one place that is the most peaceful place in this whole building.  The Chapel.  When you walk in there it’s like you can shed your heartache at the door and the hurt can’t follow you into this sacred space.  You can still feel the wounds from the battle, but, there is a tranquility that emanates from this room that offers warmth and a serenity that has the potential to heal your broken spirit.

I was going to quickly throw out a text before I would just sit and have a talk with God, but, as I walked in the door I looked over to my right and there stood the young gentleman who is the Spiritual Care Coordinator here at BTHC.  He’s a quiet soft spoken gentleman and he offered me a sympathetic smile.  He offered to leave the room so I could be alone but I really wanted him to stay.  We spoke for a short while and then he offered that if I ever needed prayer or anything, he would be willing to be here for me, for us.

Ok, seriously God?  I asked you maybe a minute before I walked into this room for someone to pray with us and then here he is?  Of course I’m going to take him up on his offer to pray.  Are you kidding?  You know, I’m finding more and more that God never does things in half measures, it’s like the words are barely formed in your mind and he has an answer ready for you.  You just have to pay attention!

Stephen, followed me to our room.  He asked for permission to touch Wes’ shoulder as he prayed.  And the moment he touched Wes, Wes moved his head toward him without opening his eyes.  Then Stephen began to pray.  I watched Wes continue to lean in toward Stephen’s hand and his words.  I can’t explain it, but, it was as though God whispered to me, “Look, he’s listening!”  It was like Wes was soaking in every word that Stephen spoke.  It was a beautiful, heartfelt prayer and I really felt the presence of the Spirit here with us.  The moment that Stephen was done and he released his touch on Wes’ shoulder, Wes turned his head away from us and with a quiet beautiful sigh, he immediately fell into a deep sleep.  Almost like he had been waiting for this all morning, just like I had.  Like an ice cold glass of water on a really hot day our thirst for prayer had been quenched.  Thank you God!

So, when you say, “All I can do is pray!”  Please understand that it is the most powerful thing you can do.  We can move from minute to minute in this part of our journey because of your prayers and because of your prayers we are still able to live, really live.

 

This picture was taken close to our yard in 2015