Family time

Yesterday, Susan was able to join the family at Randy & Dorothy’s to celebrate Nathan’s, Austin’s and Lexie’s birthdays. Aside from her frequent medical appointments and an occasional stroll to the beach, she’s otherwise been hospital-bound continually since June. Needless to say, it was a joyful and memorable event. It was gratifying to have her back with us to enjoy lunch, birthday cake and gift giving, and just being with the family. She even walked from the house to the car when it was time to go, using her wheelchair as a walker. She was tired when we got back to her room after five hours; but I believe she had a satisfying nap. We’ll be back in Westwood this week for Susan’s six-week MRI and oncology visit, plus chemotherapy. These tumor updates always come with cautious anticipation. We hope and pray for the best, are ready for anything, and continue to trust God for the outcome.

Several things stood out to me this week. Susan seemed more aware yesterday of her situation and need for care than she’s been in a long time. That awareness is wonderful because it makes for more closeness, conversation, and a sense of normalcy. But as I’ve said before, it’s also hard because she has a greater notion of what she’s lacking. She felt bad when she struggled to sign birthday cards and knew her penmanship looked childlike. I told her it didn’t matter – the main thing is that she signed them, a gift in itself. She understood. Later, she apologized that I had to help her so much with even the most basic and personal tasks – she’s sorry she’s like this and didn’t choose to be this way. We had another of those look-each-other-in-the-eyes moments when I affirmed my love for her, that I’m glad we’re together, and that I’ll do anything to help her. Again, she understood. Susan has a precious heart.

On Saturday I attended the funeral of Mary Jo Walker, wife of Will (The Great Guillermo), mother of my life-long pal Kurt and sister Traci, companion of my own parents when she and Will were young couples, and add-on Mom to me an a handful of other teenage urchins at the Walker Bed & Breakfast on 6th Street in Downey. I’m not used the idea of her not being there. I’ll miss the 45-minute conversations we might have when I’d make a quick phone call. Her funeral was a glorious example of a vibrant, fun, and unique woman of God who belongs to the Lord in life and in death. Since fun and humor were a hallmark of Jo’s life, we had a lot of laughs as people shared their stories. I’m so proud of Will and how he expressed his love for his wife of 53 years.

During the meal that followed, I had a magnificent vision of Heaven as I looked across the gathering of family and friends. Everyone had come to remember a dear woman, comfort the family, and celebrate the God of the resurrection and his gift eternal life – our hope. I had these things in mind as I sat there between conversations when time seemed to stop for a moment. As I looked upon scores of friends sharing a meal and animated conversation, I saw people who were connected by spans of time and a genuine bond in Christ. The scene was awesome. No one seemed hurried. Joy pervaded. Laughter erupted. The scene was intensified for me because I was looking at people I hadn’t seen in one, two and three decades. I realized this is partly what Heaven will be like – a great feast, a joyful celebration, and the surprise of seeing loved ones who presently exist only in memory (“What? It’s you!). My vision evoked a pleasure that went deep on many levels, and I thanked God for it. The only thing missing, I realized, was the visible presence of the throne of Heaven and the Lamb of God. He was there, but laying low. Otherwise, He would cast an element of majesty and glory over the feast that we’re not capable of imagining; and the one we came to mourn would be at the table with us. To see a world where God Himself replaces the sunlight and there’s no sickness, death or sorrow? That will have to wait awhile.

Finally, I was impressed to reconsider my way of thinking about Susan’s illness and how I’m praying. A reading from Streams in the Desert last week spoke to me of God being more interested in us knowing Him and growing in character and faith than almost anything else. He’s certainly not concerned about our troubles in the way that we are. While we’re consumed by our circumstances and intensely focused on the outcome, the Living God is there working through those circumstances so we can focus intensely on Him. The difference is infinite. It’s not that we shouldn’t hope for the best outcome and ask for it, but what happens with our hearts along the way is so much more valuable. I have been challenged to adjust my thinking and to trust God differently, because the road of suffering is actually a precious gift that yields a priceless fruit in an unexpected way. And, oh yeah, He’s got the outcome all worked out.