Month: June 2021

We’ve all had days of trouble, where our circumstances seem to be whispering in our ear, “Where is your good God? Where is this healer you pray to?” We were in our 58th day of trouble by now. Every time we saw a victory of any kind, chaos was waiting around the corner. Things had smoothed out a little and the next day was a good one for Becky. She was feeling rested and seemed to have a clearer mind. It was Friday, September 11th. Due to the restrictions still being in place, I was not allowed to visit her again. I wondered how long it would be before I could visit her on a daily basis. 

That evening, there was a conference going on at our church and I went to it. Being in that atmosphere of worshipping together with others is like medicine to a weary soul. Our church family was still reeling from the passing of Micah Traylor just a few weeks earlier, a six year old boy who had battled cancer for a year and a half. I’ve known his entire family for over 21 years. It was painful to tell Becky about it. We had prayed fervently for his healing and she had shed many tears in the process. Also, in March, I had personally lost a co-worker friend of mine I had known for 15 years due to a stroke, and in April a cousin. She was just a few months older than me.

About 45 minutes into our worship time, I received a text from Tammy: “Please pray for Rick. The boys are taking him to the emergency room. He can’t breathe.” I quickly shifted from worship and adoration to intercession. A little while later, my son, Brian, who was sitting next to me, showed me a message he had just received from Colton, one of Rick and Tammy’s sons, that Rick had gone to be with the Lord. “What!?,” I silently mouthed to him. In shock and disbelief, we both got up and walked out into the foyer. We stood there dumbfounded. 

Soon, a couple of others who were concerned about us joined us and we all stood there in shock. All I can remember anyone saying was, “what is going on”? I felt like death was mocking us with those same words again, “Where is your good God? Where is this healer you pray to?” I thought of Tammy and their entire family and what they must have been going through. “How could I tell Becky?” I thought. After all, her and Tammy were best friends. I knew I couldn’t tell her right away and didn’t until about a week later. I know that she wanted so bad to be able to be there to comfort Tammy but couldn’t. It was heartbreaking, to say the least. Later that evening at the conference, a word came forth from Marty Gabler declaring, “Becky is coming home!” As a church body we began to declare it on a regular basis.

By this time, Becky had tested negative for COVID-19 but officially there were still no visitors permitted. The next day was fairly uneventful as far as Becky was concerned, but things were about to change again when Sunday rolled around. Instead of attending church that morning I decided to go to the Ruckers’ home and be with them. My son, Nathan, had told me that their entire family was gathering and he was going over there to be with them. My heart was broken for that family and I knew I had to be with them. 

While I was there, my phone rang around 11:45 AM. It was the floor supervisor informing me that they were going to have to transfer Becky back to Methodist. She was progressively getting more agitated and confused, mainly due to the severe urinary tract infection. I asked him if there was any way I could come down there and be with her before they moved her, knowing that once she was back at Methodist it would be impossible due to their strict no visitor policy. He said, “sure, come on down”. I got there as fast as I could.

When I walked into her room I immediately noticed that they had restrained her hands to the bed because she had become so delirious and agitated that she tried to pull her oxygen tubes out of her nose.

Her sweet nurse gave me some gloves to wear so I could hold her hand. I was appreciative of her kindness but I had already made up my mind to hold her hand, gloves or not. They had her sedated, which kept her from talking much but the most important thing was just being able to be with her, loving on her, praying, and comforting her. I spent almost five hours with her before the ambulance arrived to transport her back to Methodist. I followed her all the way out to the ambulance and watched as they drove off. I wondered how long it would be until I could see her again.

The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble, and He knows those who trust in Him. (Nahum 1:7)

“The Lord is good” had become a stronghold in my mind and it helped me to stave off fear and discouragement on my drive home that night. The battle wasn’t going away, but the fear was. When I arrived home I called the hospital to check on her .Her nurse told me the transfer had been smooth and Becky was resting. Then, I couldn’t believe my ears when she asked me,

“Will you be coming to visit her tomorrow?”

“Excuse me?”

“Will you be coming here tomorrow?”

“You mean, I can do that?”

“Sure, one designated visitor is allowed per patient.”

“How long can I stay?”

“You can stay all day, as long as you’re out of here by 9 PM.”

I was thrilled that I would finally get to be with her every day, but it was tempered by the fact that the rest of our family, especially our sons, would not be able to visit her. It had been almost two months since they had seen her, other than facetime. Modern technology is great but it is a poor replacement for actually being there. The next couple of days were rough, as the raging urinary tract infection had caused some delirium to come over her, which is sometimes a side effect.  They were pumping a heavy dose of antibiotics into her and by the third day she had improved. She was still on a high dosage of oxygen however, as her breathing had not improved. 

Now that the infection was starting to clear up, it seemed to lift her spirits that I was there with her now. I could speak with all the doctors and even help the nurses from time to time. On the fourth day Physical Therapy decided it was time to work towards getting her up and out of bed to at least be able to sit in a chair and then eventually to walk some. The goal was to be able to move her back to the LTAC facility for long term rehab and then eventually to go home. This gave me some extra hope. I had even read some stories of people who had been hospitalized longer than her and even on ventilators who had made miraculous turnarounds.

Physical therapy came every day and at least different times were able to get her sitting on the side of the bed with support. Each time they tried to get her to stand up, her oxygen saturation level would drop drastically, she would panic, and then the session would be over. I tried to be the best cheerleader possible and pushed her to try as hard as she could but she couldn’t get any further. Over the next few days, some of her numbers began to look a little better and the decision was made to move her back to Cornerstone (LTAC). I was able to spend eleven days by her side. Most days I was there at least 11 hours. Now she was back at the LTAC and their visitor policy had changed some too, but it was a little more restrictive, only allowing me to come every other day for a couple hours at a time. I didn’t like it but it was better than nothing at all. She had been hospitalized for 72 days but I still believed that someway, somehow, she was going to get through all of this and eventually come back home. She was a fighter and an overcomer. It had been said of her by several of our friends that she was like a cat with nine lives.

The Apostle Paul spoke of a “peace that passes all understanding”. I experienced that practically every day. I can’t tell you how, except to say that I began every day by simply putting my trust in the One whose mercy endures forever. Goodness and mercy followed me into that hospital every single time. I experienced the goodness of God in the midst of things that were not good. I understood that my trust had to be in Christ more than it was in any particular outcome. I had to trust the assurance that He, The Word made flesh, dwelt in me and with me. Like everyone else, I had questions that I wanted answers to. More importantly though, I knew at the end of every day that the Answer had me.

To be continued….

I have always been a morning person. That’s just the way I’m wired. I can remember, as a young boy, waking up at the crack of dawn on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons on TV. Looney Tunes, to be precise. To this day, one of my unfulfilled childhood dreams was to see the coyote catch that smart aleck roadrunner just once! Never happened. I can remember my mother coming to the door of the living room, sleepy-eyed, after hearing the turned up television volume, giving me that “Why can’t you sleep in like the rest of us?” look.

I love mornings. It is the time of day when I can hear God the clearest. It’s quiet and I have my coffee. Thank you Jesus for good coffee, dark roast, black, undiluted and unpolluted. 

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 

“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, therefore I will hope in Him. (Lamentations 3:22-24 ESV) I have always been fascinated with this passage of scripture. If you are like me, you’ve had nights when you’ve climbed into bed wishing you could have a do-over of the day. We had a bad attitude, complained, snapped at someone, or just didn’t put our best foot forward. It is refreshing to know that there are new mercies and a fresh start awaiting me when I get out of bed in the morning.In her book, Switch On Your Brain, neuroscientist Dr. Caroline Leaf says “…every morning when you wake up, new baby nerve cells have been born while you were sleeping that are there at your disposal to be used in tearing down toxic thoughts and rebuilding healthy thoughts.” Wow!

Isn’t that just like God in His goodness to do that for us, giving us another opportunity to build new healthy thoughts? Micah 7:18 says He delights in mercy. He doesn’t do it because He has to. He does it because He wants to! Every night, as I got ready for bed, I would remind myself of the new mercies he had promised to me, not knowing what the next day would hold. Peaceful sleep would come. As I look back on it now, I am in complete amazement. I needed those new mercies to walk down the path that lay ahead of us.

The day after Becky arrived at the medical center, she was administered a drug that had been successful in other patients in reducing inflammation in the lungs. This gave me some more hope, but it was going to take some time. The next few days and weeks were like a roller coaster ride of emotions. One day she would seem to be improving and the next day was a step backwards. Practically all the nurses who took care of her were excellent. They were compassionate and attentive to detail. There was one exception, however. Becky had been having a very difficult day. While the nurse was attending to her, Becky asked her if she would hold her hand. The nurse answered in an irritated tone, “Sorry, I don’t do that”. Maybe the nurse was having a bad day, I don’t know. That evening, when we talked on the phone, she told me about the incident. Then she said through tears, “I wish you were here to hold my hand”. It was gut-wrenching to hear and I was heartbroken. I felt helpless. She needed me there by her side and I couldn’t be. I prayed and released the peace of God over her.

One of the reasons I told you about the incident was to highlight the isolation and separation that hospital and nursing home patients were having to deal with during this time. Imagine yourself in a hospital bed alone with not one family member or friend permitted to come in. Even the chaplains have to stand outside the window and talk to the patient by phone and the nurse and doctor who come in the room are wearing masks, keeping you from seeing a smile or facial expression. Anxiety, depression, and covid psychosis sets in, not to mention the difficulty in breathing.

It seemed like things had improved a little with her condition and on September 3rd she was discharged from Methodist Hospital and moved to Cornerstone Hospital, a long term acute care facility about a mile away.

Presence

God can be very sneaky sometimes, at least from our perspective. On the evening she was moved to Cornerstone I received a call from her, telling me that the EMTs who came to transport her had left her bag of belongings back at Methodist. She had been told that the only way to retrieve it would be for me to come down there and get it myself. Without hesitation, I jumped in the car and made the 50 minute drive to the medical center in Houston. It’s normally about a 55 minute drive but I was on a mission, knowing how things can get lost in hospitals. I was able to retrieve the bag and then drove about a mile down the street to Cornerstone. I parked the car and walked into the lobby where I was met by a large, tall African American man in scrubs standing there next to the Covid regulations sign. I told him I was there to drop off Rebecca Sherman’s bag. He asked me which room she was in and I told him. Then he nonchalantly said “Go ahead and take it up there”. “Excuse me?”, I said. “You can take it up there”. “Are you sure?” “Sure, go ahead”.

“Is this really happening?” I thought to myself. I assumed I would have to leave it at the nurse’s station and go no further. I was in for a huge surprise! I got to the desk and told them why I was there and the head nurse said, “take it over there to her room but you can only stand at the door and look in”. “Thank you”, my voice already quivering. I walked over to the door and said “Honey, I’m here!” We looked at each other and immediately tears filled our eyes. I was allowed to stay there a couple of minutes six feet from her bed. I can’t even remember what we said to each other but it didn’t matter. After nearly eight weeks of separation I was present in the same room with her and it was glorious! The nurse told me it was time to leave so I pulled my mask down, gave Becky an air kiss and an “I love you”.

As I walked or possibly floated back to the elevator and down to the lobby, it was as if I had been given a shot of hope-filled adrenaline. When I stepped off the elevator into the lobby, I wanted to thank the man who had let me go up to her floor but he was gone and a woman had taken his place. There are things that make you go hmmmm. He knows just what we need and when we need it. There was something about my unexpected presence there that did something wonderful for her and I both, even if it was for only a couple of minutes. There were many times throughout our trip across this deep valley that I would feel His presence so strong and it would be at the most unexpected times. We were traveling through uncharted territory. I’ve heard the Bible referred to as a manual and I read it every day, but God gave us Emmanuel! I had the word to look into but The Word (Himself) had me! 

There was so much of the unknown that we lived with daily during this entire ordeal. This coronavirus was so new that it felt almost like Becky was a guinea pig. It seemed like every few days a doctor or nurse would call me to get my permission to try some kind of treatment. Feeling a sense of desperation, I would say “yes, go ahead.” What did we have to lose?

The decision to move her to Cornerstone gave us some hope. For the most part, the purpose of a long term acute care facility is to begin the process of rehabilitation to the point of getting the patient well enough to go back home. Becky had already been in the hospital 51 days. “That is long enough!” I thought. “Finally, we’re getting near the end of this nightmare”. Things were about to get more chaotic, though.

On Sunday morning, two days after she arrived at Cornerstone, I got a phone call from her at 6:00 AM. She told me she had not slept at all that night due to a light above her bed that wouldn’t turn off. I immediately called the nurse supervisor and she said maintenance was coming to fix it. Something in Becky’s voice didn’t seem right though. At 7:30 the doctor called and said he was very concerned about Becky’s anxiety. He said the long period of separation was to blame for it. “I think you need to come down here and spend a little time with her,” he said. “Will they let me do that?” “I think your chances are pretty good,” he said. I got ready as fast as I could and drove down there. I spent 45 minutes with her before I was told I had to leave. I must have said “thank you, Lord” a hundred times on the drive back home! The next day, the doctor called and told me she looked much better. He told me he believed it was because I had come to see her. 

Becky had developed a bad urinary tract infection during these few days and it caused her to have some mental confusion and disorientation that set in on the evening of September 9th. At 3:30 the following morning I was startled awake by my phone ringing. It was Becky. She sounded like she was having a nervous breakdown. Nothing I could say to her or pray seemed to help. I decided I was not going to go to work that day but instead, make the drive down to the hospital and ask them to let me see her. It was a risk but I knew I had to be with her. Before I left, our good friend, Tammy, called me and said Becky had called her earlier that morning and simply said “rally prayer”. Tammy and I prayed over the phone and I could hear her husband Rick praying in agreement with us in the background. 

The drive to downtown Houston seemed like it took forever. I worshipped and prayed in the Spirit for practically the entire trip. By the time I parked and made my way into the hospital lobby the peace of God had enveloped me. He is the Prince of Peace and He is so good!

Because of her emotional state, mental confusion, and the extreme anxiety she was experiencing, I was graciously allowed to spend 45 minutes with her again. Although supernatural peace had come over me, I couldn’t see much of a change in her while I was there but I was told later that she slept most of the day after I had left, which was a gift from heaven. I was thankful for this lull in the storm but there were more rough waters ahead.

To be continued…