Tag: life

Living the Impossible

Impossible.

That’s what they told us. Oh, they used different words at different hospitals, but they all said the same thing. After Kevin’s devastating spinal cord injury sustained in a fall, his situation seemed hopeless. He lay paralyzed from the neck down and kept alive by a ventilator.

He was first taken to the local hospital at Lethbridge, Alberta, but was quickly transferred by helicopter to a Calgary hospital. We drove twelve hours through the night to join him after we received the call. When we arrived at the Calgary hospital the next morning, we were ushered into a gray room and joined by a gray doctor. He talked somberly about all the challenges Kevin faced. I don’t remember much of what he said to us. But his face said it all:

Expect the worst.

The second consultation was with a sour doctor who presented us with a bunch of “nevers.” Kevin would never breathe again. He would never move his body below his chin or possibly his shoulders. He might not even survive the complications of the injury. He would never go home to the United States, because no airline would take him on a flight. No medical crew would consent to accompany him, and no doctor in the States would accept him as a patient.

And, the doctor added, they didn’t have vent patients there. Kevin’s only way out was death.

But God is a God of the impossible.

We rejected this push for euthanasia, and God opened the way for Kevin to be flown back to a hospital in the United States in a chartered Lear jet, accompanied by a volunteer medical team and his brother Erik. Through the generosity of the people of Canada and here in the States, everything was paid in full. Kevin’s Canadian surgeon was a wonderful man who gave us our first ray of hope by telling us Kevin would probably survive, although his chances of recovering any function or feeling were one in a hundred. Virtually impossible.

Kevin’s trials increased after transferring to Spokane, when he experienced two respiratory codes and nearly died both times. He struggled with two bouts of pneumonia, finally stabilizing enough to be moved to a rehabilitation hospital. Along the way, he surprised the medical personnel by beginning to regain feeling and some slight movement.

Still, they reminded him that he could never wean off the ventilator. They told us that it would be impossible for us to care for him at home, and he would have to live in a nursing facility.

Our God is a God of the impossible.

Seven weeks after his injury, Kevin went home with us, his family, as his caregivers. Two years after the injury, he weaned off the vent during his waking hours, only going back on it at night to sleep. He gained more feeling and movement back in his body.

Today he can run a computer, walk with help, and do a few things for himself. Recently he began a new, self-imposed exercise regimen and has made new gains. He taught himself computer animation and 3D graphics, ran a studio with his brother, and now is the founder and senior editor of a website devoted to Christian music, http://www.cmaddict.com.

In 2008, he served as honorary groomsman at his brother Erik’s wedding. He was honorary groomsman at his friend Grant’s wedding, as well. Last September, Kevin rolled down the aisle of our church to stand beside his brother Daniel as his best man at his wedding.

Every day for twenty years, we have lived the impossible.

It has been with great joy we have watched God work in our weakness. He has given us miracles without end in this journey. Together, we have watched God bring our family closer through trial and release the fragrance of His grace in our broken lives and dreams. We have stood amazed at the tenderness and love with which our adult children have served their brother and us. We see with joy that God is building new dreams.

Yes, life has been hard. Kevin has suffered much. But he has chosen to serve God in his suffering. We have chosen to serve God in standing beside our son. The beauty we have been privileged to witness far outweighs the sorrow.

Today, on July 11, 2017, we celebrate twenty years of watching an awesome God at work. We rejoice at twenty years of life restored to our son. We look forward to the future, knowing that our Lord is still a God of miracles. Every day, in His power, we live this wonderful, impossible life together.

 

The things that are impossible with people are possible with God.

-Luke 18:27

 

 

Threads

“For You formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother’s womb.”                                                                                                                                            – Psalm 139:13

My bones were not hidden from you when I was being made in secret, when I was being skillfully woven in an underground workshop

 -Psalm 139:15 (GOD’S WORD Translation)

You’re Complicated.

You probably guessed that. You may have even been told that a few times by a frustrated friend, co-worker, or family member. You may not have realized, though, just how complex you really are.

According to National Geographic, the average human body contains thirty trillion cells. 1. Each individual genome, or set of instructions for the development and operation of one person, contains approximately three billion base pairs of the chemical code that comprise our DNA, attached to twenty-three pairs of chromosomes. 2. This chemical code determines our sex, what we will look like, and much more. That’s why it’s called the master blueprint of the body. 3.

There is, in fact, nothing simple about the “simple cell.” Each individual cell in your body is a finely-tuned factory working closely with the other cells of the body to sustain your life. You are not generally aware of the incredible processes of the systems keeping you alive, but you know when something isn’t working correctly. The body strives to stay at a pre-set “normal,” a state known as homeostasis, and even a small change in those processes can threaten your health or your life.

All that, and you’re just one person.

On a planet filled with over seven billion people, it’s easy to feel inconsequential. It’s even easier to see others as inconsequential, especially if their lives don’t meet society’s expectations or they become inconvenient. The aged, the weak, the disabled, the unplanned, seem expendable from that perspective. What’s one damaged life out of so many?

What’s one broken thread in the fabric of God’s plan for mankind?

Only everything. Just as every thread is needed to complete a work of art by a master weaver, so every life holds an important place in His plan for the world that is and the world to come.

Complexity points to a designer. A piece of art proves the existence of an artist. We all know that an intricately woven fabric is not made by dumping a bunch of thread on a loom. Someone must create it.

You are part of a grand design.

You and I are living threads in the hands of a Creator immense in power, limitless in imagination, and exquisite in the care with which He fashions His world. The skill with which He wove you in the womb, in all its unfathomable precision, pales beside the magnitude of the loom upon which He crafts history’s story. Not only are you a vital part of that plan, so is every other human. Our job is not to decide the value of others on this earth, but to respect every person’s value before God. Only He knows which threads will display the bold, royal colors of the kingdom, and which will carry the softer shades of grace. All are needed to complete the heavenly canvas upon which His story is revealed.

You matter. So does the homeless man on the corner, the baby with Down’s Syndrome, and the elderly woman with Alzheimer’s. May God forgive us for thinking we can choose the design for Him, for believing we know best.

 

1.http://news.nationalgeographic.com/2016/01/160111-microbiome-estimate-count-ratio-human-health-science/

2.https://www.genome.gov/11006943/human-genome-project-completion-frequently-asked-questions/

3.http://science.howstuffworks.com/life/cellular-microscopic/dna5.htm

What One “Useless Life” Taught Me

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Just an old woman.

She lay against the stark white sheets of the gurney, her face gray and her hands bent awkwardly inward. A series of strokes had long-silenced her lilting Southern twang, and she communicated much as an infant, her cries and grunts only distinguishable to the initiated. At the sight of me, her face contorted in a pathetic wail, brownish-red drool drizzling from one corner of her mouth.

“Pneumonia,” someone at the nursing had said two hours earlier, when they first called to tell me that they were sending my mother to the hospital. I had quickly arranged my schedule to meet her at the emergency room when she arrived. My brother joined me in the waiting room, and we watched in vain for her arrival. Finally I checked again at the desk and discovered she had not yet been sent down from the nursing home.

I called the home, and they said they were still awaiting the doctor’s order to transport her down. We waited some more. I called the doctor’s office to see what was happening. No one knew. After two hours, she finally landed in the emergency room, where she lay untreated as busy nurses and techs buzzed around the nurses’ station. I could only guess they were waiting for doctor’s orders to proceed.

She continued to cry. We continued to wait. I stood at her side, stroking her hair and murmuring meaningless words of comfort as I choked back angry tears.

No one ever came in the room to care for her.

Something was definitely wrong, and I finally lost my patience. I summoned my nerve and marched out to the nurses’ station. “Is Doctor in the hospital?” I asked the startled nurses.

“Uh, I can try to page him for you,” one of them ventured.

“Fine. I want to talk to him.”

They exchanged nervous glances and had him on the phone in short order.

“This is Opal Soyk’s daughter,” I spit out. “We have been waiting hours in E.R. to have her treated. What the h— is going on?”

My rare foray into profanity surprised even me. But Doctor was up to the fight. “I wasn’t planning to bring her down here. She’s only here because you insisted.”

I was momentarily confused by the direction of the conversation. After all, I was only there because I had been called by the nursing home. What was going on? My mind raced to untangle what had happened as I asked, “Well, what are you planning to do for her?”

One worthless life…

“Nothing. I wasn’t going to treat her. She’s an old woman. Her life is useless, anyway. Why do you want to keep her alive?”

My soul exploded into little shards of red-hot pain as clarity came. He had planned to let her die untreated in her bed at the nursing home.

But this was not a useless old woman. This was my mother.

All my life, my mother had fought for me. Always, unconditionally, and without reservation, Mother had been my champion and protector. It was time to return the honor.

“That is not your decision to make,” I retorted loudly, turning heads at the nurses’ station. “Your job is to treat her.”

Doctor hung up on me.

He never did bother to show up at the emergency room. But shortly afterward, she was admitted to the hospital. With proper treatment, Mother recovered from her illness and lived some time longer before dying peacefully at the nursing home with her family in attendance.

Who Is the Lord of Life and Death?

In the months leading up to her strokes, Mother knew something awful was happening in her body. She kept it mostly secret, but looking back, I realized that she was preparing us for the inevitable. One day she told me that if anything happened to her, she wanted every chance at life. She also said, “I changed your diapers; you can change mine.”

I remembered those words after her strokes, and I was thankful to know her wishes. But I often agonized as I watched her body slowly wither away. I knew, though, that if we hastened her death, it would not be her choice, but ours. That would be neglect. Or worse.

In the long nights during those five years, I reminded God that she had taken Him to be Lord of her life. I asked Him to be Lord of her death.

The last night the nursing home called us, she had fallen into a coma after not responding to medication for a new infection. Her body showed the obvious signs of shutting down. We gathered around her bed, sang all her favorite hymns, and cheered her on. We read Scriptures to her, prayed quietly, and loved her into God’s presence.

My mother taught me how to live. She taught me how to die. And she taught me that God is the Lord of both.

Why I’m Not Fighting to Save Babies: Guest Post by Susanne Maynes

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I’m honored to have writer and counselor Susanne Maynes with us here at Every Life Matters. Susanne has worked at a pregnancy resource center for eight years. Her heart for God and her service to women in crisis uniquely equips her to speak with us today.

 

I enter the room quietly, take my seat across from the nervous teen, and gently ask how she is feeling. Her eyes pool.

“Not so good. I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

Her story unfolds. Courtney (not her real name) hasn’t yet finished high school, let alone pursued her field of study and career of choice. Her dreams are at stake.

On top of that, her parents don’t approve of the boy. They will be disappointed and angry, she fears.

I’m facing a familiar scenario, one I’ve seen many times as a counselor at a pregnancy resource center. My job is to help this young woman understand her pregnancy options, offer her emotional and spiritual support, and help her take hold of hope for both herself and her baby.

Why do I do this?  Because I’m fighting to save babies, right?…or am I?

It’s true that the lives rescued by the pro-life movement are the lives of tiny unborn babies; it’s true that once those babies are born, we rejoice at their delightful, innocent, brand-new presence in the world.

But all cuteness and giggles and coos aside, I’m not really fighting to save the lives of babies. I’m fighting to save the lives of people.

Those infant boys and girls will grow into toddlers, grammar school kids, teens. They’ll be adults one day. We’ll see them on the job, in the grocery store, at church.

And when we see them, we might ask ourselves, When did the sacred value of their life begin?

From the first “stitch” that God knit together in the womb.

Psalm 139:13, 16 says, “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb…Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”

From his sovereign perspective, God sees every life from beginning to end.

At no point in the continuum is a person less than a person in his eyes.

I saw a comic a few years ago depicting two teen girls talking. The pregnant one tells her friend, “I think it’s a puppy!”

Therein lays the problem with thinking of the pro-life objective as “saving babies.”  The issue isn’t just rescuing darling little infants from being sucked out of this world; the issue is fighting for the fulfillment of human destinies.

As Dr. Ravi Zacharias eloquently explained at a conference I attended, God’s answer to human dilemmas is always found in a person. The Israelites needed the right man to lead them out of slavery in Egypt – thank God Moses’ mother was courageous enough to save his life during a time of mandatory male infanticide.

Later, God’s people needed deliverance from various oppressors, and God raised up judges to rescue them.

Ultimately, God’s solution for the biggest human dilemma ever came through the person of his very own son.

Dr. Zacharias wonders how many times we have begged and pleaded for help from God – and become offended at his apparent unconcern — when in reality, he had already sent the answer, and we destroyed that answer in the womb.

This is why I sit across from troubled women to help them take hold of hope. This is why I pray, my heart breaking, while they wrestle with their decisions.

Not just to save babies. To save people. People who are the apple of God’s eye and his answer to our problems.

Courtney decided against abortion. Her little boy will be born in a few weeks.

Who knows what kind of an answer he will be?

 

10989255_566024660204946_6084923594370626820_nSusanne Maynes is the Counseling Director at Life Choices Clinic, a pregnancy resource center where she has worked for eight years. She is a Board Certified Biblical Counselor with the Board of Christian and Pastoral Counselors. Susanne blogs weekly at www.susannemaynes.com to help sincere but discouraged Christians find healing, gain insight and take heart so they can live out their faith with courageous compassion.

What They Didn’t Tell Us

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Until our nineteen-year-old son broke his neck in a fall in the summer of 1997, we knew little about spinal cord injuries. His break was very high, and the chance of his survival was bleak. Since he was injured during a trip to Canada and we live in the United States, it was a difficult journey to join him at the hospital. When we were able to get to his bedside, we found him totally paralyzed from the neck down and attached to life support.

Grim-faced doctors told us the many challenges Kevin faced:

  • He would never breathe or move again below his neck or possibly his shoulders.
  • He would need round-the-clock care.
  • He would certainly suffer from a host of complications such as pneumonia, blood clots, and urinary tract infections.
  • He could never live at home again. He couldn’t even return to the United States because no airline would accept him in his condition, no doctor would sign to receive him, no medical team would accompany him on the flight, and the cost to fly him home would be prohibitive.
  • He could not stay in Canada.

For our son, and for us, the situation seemed hopeless. One doctor was angry when we resisted a push for euthanasia.

What most of the doctors didn’t tell us was that their predictions weren’t written in stone. Yes, Kevin did suffer from pneumonia in the beginning weeks. Urinary tract infections have been a continuing challenge for Kevin. And yes, he needs round-the-clock care.

But none of the rest of it happened.

People, churches, and organizations in Canada soon learned of his injuries and rallied to his cause. Within a week, Kevin was flown back to the United States in a chartered Lear jet, accompanied by a volunteer medical team – the entire cost paid by donations.

He was received into a hospital close to home and later released to a rehabilitation hospital.

As his body came out of spinal shock, he began to regain function and feeling, stunning the doctors and therapists. This healing would continue for several years.

What no one told us was that one day Kevin would breathe again on his own, walk with help, and return home to rebuild his life. Although he remains mostly disabled, he has movement and feeling in most of his body. He only uses the ventilator at night to sleep.

In the years since his injury, he has built a computer 3-D graphics studio with his brother and founded a popular Christian music website. He lives each day with faith and trust and without complaint.

No one told us that caring for him would bring us such joy. No one explained how much his life would enrich us, or how much we would learn about courage in the process. Certainly these years have been hard. But when I see Kevin laughing and chasing his nieces around in his wheelchair, or taking his dog for a walk, or working with press agents and music companies and complicated animation software, I am reminded of all the beauty they never told me to expect.

They never told us to have hope.

You are Invited

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If you’re reading this today, you’re alive.

Maybe you don’t feel that way.  Instead, you’re barely holding on. You feel numb, unworthy of God’s love.

It’s especially easy to feel that way if you’re one of the thousands of people suffering from chronic disease or devastating injury. Perhaps you’re one of the millions of people who care for them. Either way, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have what most would call a “normal” life.

Boy, have I been there.

Our son’s spinal cord injury in 1997 plunged him into the world of disability and dumped me into the world of caregiving. I quickly learned that the fight for life is as primal as it gets.

It’s a lonely trip. It’s an honor. It’s a tightrope walk between the two stretched over a chasm of uncertainty.

Today I’ve served more than two decades as a caregiver. Every step of the journey, God has held us, even when I didn’t know He was there. His comfort has been the golden oil sustaining me through every trial. He has taught me to relish each day I can breathe and think and worship my Creator.

Rejoicing in the Lord always.

Trusting in a faithful Father for tomorrow.

Life is a gift, an invitation to a very special party. Let’s treasure what we have this moment and believe God will keep eternity safe for us, for the day when the lame walk and God dries our tear-stained faces.

That day’s coming. Until then, we will conquer whatever comes, together. No matter what you’re going through right now, you can be assured you are never, ever alone. You’re important to God, and you’re important to me.

You’re alive. You’re safe. You’re precious in His sight. 

That’s worth singing about. Come on, join the celebration!

The Battle for Renewal

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Then He showed a river of the water of life, clear as crystal,
coming from the throne of God and of the Lamb, in the middle of its street.
On either side of the river was the tree of life, bearing twelve kind of fruit, yielding its fruit every month;
and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.
Revelation 22:1-2

Winter has never won the battle of the seasons, but this year it seemed to have its cold, gnarly fingers firmly clamped around the ground and my heart. The garden lay in dead disarray. My life followed a similar trend. Heartrending situations with my family and friends gripped us in an icy chill of  relentless drama and tragedy.

Faith ran daily to the window to look for signs of life on my horizon. It was usually met with gray skies and new storms. It seriously looked like spring itself had given up and taken off for a long southern vacation.

Then I began to notice that although the storms still buffeted us, spring seemed to have a change of heart and decided to show up, after all. It was still cold, and uninviting outside my window. I was delighted to discover that the daffodils had gotten the memo, though, along with the hyacinths.

Once it decided to commit to a change of seasons, spring braved the weather and cued the greenery. The cold raised a challenge with a blast of hail. Tender life, having gained new courage, marched forward to undaunted.

Every year, the battle for renewal rages in the earth. Each year, death appears to triumph over the promise of resurrection along with our dreams. We know, however, that life always wins.

Today it is gray and cold again here. But I can look out my window and see that spring is going to conquer. In fact, it already has. My garden is blooming.

There are still parts of my life which haven’t felt the sun’s warm rays. I tell my impatient heart that renewal is on its way. God encourages us to look not to the daily storms, but the inevitable thaw what will arrive.

Winter will end. Spring will come.

Rooted in Reality: Building Character, Part 1

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You will know them by their fruits.  
Matthew 7:16

Several years ago, the Dallas Morning News reported that an elderly North Dallas couple, the Davenports, were sitting at home one quiet evening, enjoying a delicious meal. As they finished up, a burglar broke into their house, pointed a gun at them, and demanded money.

While Mrs. Davenport frantically searched through her purse for some money, the burglar noticed that the television was on, so he asked Mr. Davenport what they were watching. Mr Davenport replied, “The 700 Club.”

“Are y’all Christians?” the burglar asked.

“Yes,” Mr. Davenport replied.

The burglar said in all seriousness, “Me, too.”

It’s easy to be more than a little cynical of this man’s profession of faith, because we know faith is supposed to go hand-in-hand with a lifestyle change. Jesus used the example of plants to help us understand this concept.

Grapes are not gathered from thorn bushes, nor figs from thistles, are they?
So every good tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears bad fruit.
A good tree cannot produce bad fruit, nor can a bad tree produce good fruit.
Matthew 7:16-18

The reality is this: It is our character, not our words alone, that reveals who we are to others. Character is who we really are. It’s the essence of our being. It is, as D.L. Moody said, “What you are in the dark.” Without character, we can only fool people for so long. Without character, we can’t fool God at all.

What’s so important about character?

     1. Character sets us apart.

In this day, age, and culture, people constantly strive to set themselves apart from the crowd. Some of us use shocking dress and behavior; some of us climb the rungs of the social ladder; some of us search for money and power. In reality, though, the lower elements of humanity are so prominent today it is the person of integrity and pure character that stands out from the rest. Deep inside, we long for someone to show us something real and solid and clean.

     2. Character creates trust.

Solid relationships have to be founded on trust. Trust is the oil that keeps society moving forward and reduces friction from personalities clashing.

     3. Character promotes excellence.

Excellence in behavior does more than promote the welfare of an individual. It is the glue that cements the higher ideals of families, the workplace, the political sphere, and nations into a cohesive unit.

    4. Character gives us staying power.

It carries us through the tough times, because the same self-discipline we need to cultivate integrity also keeps us going when we are weary and discouraged. Ironically, trials are also the very tools God uses to solidify our character.

And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, 
knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; 
and perseverance, proven character
and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint,
because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts 
through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. 
Romans 5:3-5 

Like a good piece of pottery, we are “hardened” by the fire of trial. Someone has said fire either destroys or hardens that which it touches. When we emerge from the fire of hardship and suffering with our faith intact, our character has been “proven.”

     5. Character extends our influence.

Everyone wants to have an influence on others. But without character, we are simply performing for others and competing to be noticed. If we want to have a lasting impact on others for good, it’s going to be the godly character we exhibit that will shout above the din.

So how do we cultivate godly character? Next week we’ll identify and discover how to implement L.I.E.S. in our search to live in integrity.

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