It was early morning on Valentine’s Day, 2014. My husband
had been out photographing the Northern Lights and had been asleep in bed for
half an hour. Suddenly, his whole body went rigid and began to shake violently.
I knew he was having a seizure and long-ago first aid classes kicked in enough
for me to remember that I needed to clear his airway. His face was smashed into
his pillow, so I struggled to roll his stiff, convulsing body just enough so he
could breathe. After what seemed like an eternity, the shaking stopped. He fell
into a deep sleep. His breathing was loud and awkward, but at least it assured
me that he was still here. I was confused and terrified.
Bryan was scheduled to perform his first wedding ceremony
that night. His best childhood friend was getting married. Bryan wrote out what
he was going to say at the wedding from his Emergency Room bed. He seemed calm,
but I was barely holding it together.
Late in the afternoon, we finally got the results of Bryan’s
MRI. He had a brain tumor in his left temporal lobe. He would meet with a
neurosurgeon the following week. The news seemed to suck all the air out of the
room. We were too young to be facing something like this! Our youngest was only
three years old. Would he have to face life without a father? Would the girls
have a daddy to walk them down the aisle at their weddings? How could I live
without my best friend—the man I loved like my own life?
We somehow managed to collect ourselves and get to the
wedding. Bryan handled it better than I did. I don’t remember much about the
wedding except for feeling guilty that I couldn’t enjoy it more. I had been
looking forward to this night for months. The fear of the future weighed me
down like a bag of wet cement.
That night, we told the kids about their daddy’s tumor.
After they were in bed, the dam broke and my tears wouldn't stop. The weekend
brought more of the same…staying calm for the kids and then sobbing when I
couldn't hold it in anymore.
The next week and a half was a blur of doctor appointments,
testing, and surgery preparations. Bryan’s parents and siblings flew in for the
surgery. Everyone around me was talking about God’s healing, about God’s plans
for Bryan, and how God would work through this.
I had to leave the prayers for healing to others. By begging
for his healing, I would be trying to hold onto Bryan for myself. I knew that
God wanted me to release Bryan into His capable hands. I HAD TO LET GO. I had
to trust God. I had to realize that God was (and is) enough. Though I was
sometimes paralyzed with terror at the thought of life without my husband, I
felt a strange peace as I relaxed into the Father’s arms.
In the dark days of surgery and recovery, I often felt God’s
presence so tangibly that it felt like a third person in the room. He spoke to
my heart with calm reassurances that He was going to take care of
everything...even if Bryan wasn't healed. Other times, the despair and
frustration overwhelmed me. I try not to think about those times. It wasn't pretty.
God prompted His people to offer help with things I didn't
even know we needed yet. From meals to childcare to a daughter’s birthday
celebration, God met us at each step. He didn't take the pain away, but He
walked with us through each agonizing minute. No matter how much I failed, He
stayed with me.
God chose to heal Bryan through modern medicine. There was
no instant miracle, but just slow and steady progress as his brain healed from
the trauma. His life expectancy can now be measured in decades, rather than in
months or years, as is common to many brain tumors. His tumor was in an area
that controls speech and hearing. Miraculously, those functions were
unaffected!
Our story isn’t done. Life is fragile…brain tumors or not.
Bryan and I are still discovering our new normal. But I have learned that God
will be with us.
GOD. IS. ENOUGH.
Hard times can bring out the worst in us. The Father knows
and understands. He remembers that we are made of dust. He doesn't always take
the pain away as soon as we'd like, but He will get us through it. He will turn
the pain into something new and beautiful. Sometimes the miracle is the
healing...as it was for Bryan. Sometimes the miracle is the growth that comes
out of the pain...as it was for me.
Has the bottom fallen out of your life? Is the darkness
covering you with suffocating closeness? Just say the name of Jesus. Call upon
Him. He alone can carry you through the hard times. He longs to be your Abba,
your Daddy, and to hold you close to Him.
When you go through deep waters and great trouble, I will be
with you.
When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown!
When you walk through the fire of oppression,
you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume
you.
For I am the LORD, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your
Savior.
Isaiah 43:2-3 NLT
Carol
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