One Year Later

We all have events in our lives that shape who we are.  These are usually moments that split seasons of life.  Robert and I often talk about our lives before children versus after children.  I watch my teenagers and remember what life was like before "I had to grow up and get a real job".  I can still feel my dad take my hand when I was ready to walk down the aisle to meet Robert on our wedding day.  I remember with great love and affection the birth of each of my children. 

(Well, MOST of the time it's with great love and affection...)

I think about buying our first home.  Taking a new job.  The last "traditional" Christmas spent with both my grandma and granddaddy along with my extended family.  A lifetime of moments - each changing me little by little into who I am today.  Joy-filled and sorrow-filled.  Sometimes both at the same time.

Graduations.  Marriage.  Children.  Sickness.

Sickness.

Even as I'm typing I can hear the tick-tock of the clock in the dining room marking off the seconds of the night.  Each second jumps to the next.  Steady.  Unstoppable.  We carelessly say to each other, "Time marches on whether we are ready or not."  Yet we don't always grasp the full measure of those words.

A little more than a year ago I was riding on a bus on my way back from a fun field trip.  The sun was bright, the windows were down (which meant my hair was a mess), and I was excited about the end of the school year.  It had been a loonnnng, cold winter and we were all ready for some summer days.  My phone vibrated in my purse and I was tickled at myself for sneaking a peak at the message.  Remember, I was on a bus.  With middle-school kids.  Who had been forbidden to text, tweet, post, take pictures, etc.  A teacher never knows what might end up on The Great Big Internet on her watch.  And - if the kids have no phones - a good teacher also puts hers away - albeit reluctantly.  Very reluctantly.  Ahem.


So, I was a-sneakin'.  Giggling about it, too.


And then.


Out of nowhere...


That teachable moment no one wants.


A flurry of texts.  I'm not feeling well.  At the ER.  Something's not right...  More texts, more calls.  Checking for blood clots.  Checking for a heart attack.  Rapid heart rate.  Dangerously high blood pressure.  Bad test results... A desperate desire of a wife to stop time, jump off the bus, run to the hospital on her own two feet. 

This would mark the beginning of the longest three days of my life.

Even as I write this I'm ashamed.  I know there are so many who have endured much worse.  I know people who are RIGHT THIS MINUTE dealing with much worse.  And yet this is part of my story.  A moment that splits seasons of my life.

The next few days brought many tests for Robert.  CAT scans, MRI's, ultrasounds, cancer tests, blood test after blood test.  There was a big worry of hard-to-detect tumors.  The fear of the unimaginable would not let me go.  The internet became the devil, taunting me with worst-case scenarios and what-ifs.  I questioned what I believed about myself, about life.  The seconds nipped at me, laughing as they sped by.  I couldn't catch them.  I wasn't sure if I wanted to.  And in those very worst of days emerged truth. 

Truth.

Robert and I held on to each other.  We let go of the stuff of life and grabbed hold of real life.  Each other.  Our boys.  Our faith.  We had been so busy living life that we were lost in it.  Because, you know, time marches on...

Those that know us know the rest of the story.  After what seemed like dozens of tests and visits with a specialist, it was concluded that Robert had developed high blood pressure - a special gift from his parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles.  (Grin.)  The bad test results?  A glitch, some kind of chemically-created "perfect storm" in the body which masked what would have otherwise been a quick high blood pressure diagnosis.  A simple solution to such a frightening beginning. 

Looking back on it now, it all seems rather anti-climactic.  A bunch of hullabaloo over blood pressure.  And yet we are unbelievably thankful.  It could so easily have been a different outcome.  It is for so many - and that fact is not lost on me.  Guilt and gratefulness.  Sometimes they hold hands in life, don't they? 

Easter Sunday 2011 marked the beginning of our After.  Our Before was long on stress, over-commitments, quick tempers, extra worry.  And, well, okay, surely it wasn't as bad as I've just made it sound.  We did have lots and lots of laughter and smiles and happiness back there.  A good, blessed life.  But there were also so many times we missed the point of our days.  Life will not stop.  Many times I had good intentions, but little follow-through.  I intended to enjoy my home, but had too many places to be.  I intended to quit griping so much, but why would no one take my advice?!  I intended to spend quality time with the boys, but the house was always a mess.  I intended to show my husband how much he meant to me, if only he would just quit aggravating me so!  I intended...  I intended...  I intended...


I intended.


Those few days in the hospital, just Robert and me, have profoundly impacted my After.  Lest someone gets a false impression, I still have many unfulfilled intentions.  Mucho gripe sessions (just ask my coworkers).  Impatience.  Stress.  Lots of frustration over things so inconsequential in the scheme of life.  Yet it is my most fervant prayer that every day I let go a little more.  Release the stuff of life to grab hold of real life.  Robert and I have developed a saying when we sense that one of us is returning to Before - - We are not going back.

The lessons God taught us in those ticking, timeless seconds are very real even today.  Life is not guaranteed.  Live in today.  Appreciate what we have.  Be content.  Invest in our people, not our stuff.   Live in the fullness of His Joy.  Recognize what is secondary and tend to what is primary.  Laugh more than we cry.  Edify with our words.  Be quick to forgive.  Love.

Because, you know, time marches on.

In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy...being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesuus.

Phillipians 1:4,6

May it be so, Lord Jesus. 


One year later.