Monday, January 4, 2010

Is God Listening? I Believe He Is...

Elijah's feet will be amputated tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. Central. Tonight, both sets of grandparents are at their hotels, and so is Melissa and my sweet daughter Sophia. It's just me and Eli in the hospital room, watching TV and trying to settle down after a long day of blood draws, x-rays, measurements and several dozen forms to read and sign. Everybody keeps asking me how I'm doing tonight, because they can see something dark in my eyes. I'm trying to stay positive, but I'm somewhere between moderately jovial and barely coherent. And let's face it -- I've made it my personal mission in life to be the one who reassures everyone else, who always sees the silver lining and the ultimate goal. So when you hear me admit that I'm making the people around me sad, it's doubly upsetting, because I'm usually the person you go to when you feel sad.

About ten minutes ago, I finished pouring some food into Elijah's tummy via his G-tube. After I removed the tube, I turned off his little TV. He fussed, and I said, "I just want to talk to you for a minute." He looked at me with those trusting eyes and said, "Okay, Daddy." I began, "We're going to have another surgery tomorrow morning." He said, "Yeah," muffled by his pacifier. Then I asked, "Elijah, where are your feet?" He lifted his legs and touched his feet. "Where are your toes?" He did the same again. Then I said, "Elijah, tomorrow we're going to--"

A knock came at the door. "Come in," I said, exasperated and on the verge of screaming. A nurse I'd never seen before said, "I thought you'd like a snack." She had a tray filled with frozen ice cream bars and cups of applesauce, because they really do think of everything at the Shriners. Eli whined when he saw the nurse, but I said, "She's just giving us some yum yum." Eli perked up and said, "Yum Yum!" So of course, I had to get the applesauce.

The nurse closed the door and I started again, this time as Eli examined his individual cup of applesauce, still with the lid on it. "Elijah..."

The phone rang.

"Phone," Eli said, but I assumed we were both hearing the phone at the nurses' station right outside our door, because no one would possibly call the phone in our room; everyone has my cellphone. I started talking again. "Elijah, tomorrow, we're going to take away your feet." I rubbed his toes, his chubby arches, his soft heels. Meanwhile, it slowly dawned on me that the phone I heard actually WAS our phone. "For crying out loud..."

I picked up the phone. "Hello, this is David." The voice belonged to a man who said, "Is Stephanie there?" He was hard to understand, and I'm a glutton for punishment, so I said, "Could you repeat that?" This time when he spoke, he made no sense at all. I said, "I believe you've called the wrong room." I could still hear noises on the phone, but the man was no longer responding to my voice. I said, "Okay, good night," and hung up the phone.

And believe it or not, I still had no clue what was going on. But when I walked back around to continue my conversation with my 3-year-old son, I stopped to wonder if perhaps I wasn't supposed to continue. I wondered if maybe it wasn't my job to have the perfect explanation for every situation, nor to make everyone feel better when I wasn't capable of making myself feel better. More importantly, I wondered what my motive was for trying to give Eli a heads-up. As if Eli's severe communication setbacks aren't a good enough reason to avoid this particular talk, there remains the fact that making him aware of what's happening won't help him decide this is the right thing to do, or that it's fair, anymore than it will comfort him after the fact. So why do it? Could it be that I'm feeling guilty, and this little heart-to-heart was meant to make me feel better, not him?

What my job IS is to comfort him after the fact, and not with facts. I hold him, I play with him, I attend to his needs, and I somehow make myself feel better in the process. It's not just a good process; it's a good life. Elijah may be dealing some truly terrible medical problems, but his circumstance demands that he and I spend a lot of time together having fun and loving each other, and I'm really happy to spend my day like that.

I'm stopping just short of saying that I'm okay with all of this. What I'll say instead is that I trust my wife, I trust that we've made the right decision, I trust the doctors and nurses who will operate on him tomorrow, and I trust that Eli will make the best of this situation, just like he has every situation that's come before.

And I trust Jesus. That's hard to type, because he and I both know that my brain isn't completely trusting him. But my heart never stopped, and he knows that, too. I'd like to think I wouldn't have needed an interrupting nurse and an intelligible phone call to hear him speaking to me, but I suppose he knows what I need better than I do. And the same must hold true for Elijah. Part of me really wishes my son could have a chance to say goodbye to his own feet, but if the alternative is that he won't remember losing them, I'll make that trade any day.

Please join me and my family as we pray for Eljah tomorrow morning, January 5 at 7:00 a.m. I know some of you will gather together to pray for him, and a few of the finest prayer warriors I've ever known will even be fasting. If there was any doubt that something good could come from what has happened, that doubt is gone. Say a special prayer for Dr. Gates, Eli's surgeon and Godly man who really does love little Elijah.

Good night.
Dave

15 comments:

Anonymous said...

So open and honest...thanks for sharing your thoughts and this lesson. Eli touches alot of people through you and Melissa and your desires for your precious son. Love you guys.

-mhh

Anonymous said...

Dave:
You don't know me but I am Leveta and have been reading your blog for a long time.Your words were so honest and open and I know the Lord knows our hearts better than anyone.Thanks for letting us know exactly when the surjury will be I will be praying then and throughout the day and will be checking in.
Leveta

Balancing Act said...

This is heart-wrenching to read. We are praying for all of you. May God continue to fill you with His peace, comfort and courage. Tracy

Anonymous said...

I read your post and I'm choked up. I know it must be hard for all of you, and I am fumbling for the perfect words to give you comfort, but I don't think there are any. So I will be praying for you and your family, and that you'll be at complete peace, even in the confusion. God knows, and I praise Him with you even now as He does mighty work in your lives. Love and prayers-Cari Newton Czajkoski

Hewett Happenings said...

Praying...

M.S. said...

I've set my alarm to wake me a little earlier in the morning.

Jennifer Brown said...

David,
Just wanted to let you know that I'm praying for Eli. I know God is going to watch over him during and after the surgery. He is going to amaze people at how quickly he recovers!

"miss" Jennifer

Stacie said...

Melissa and Dave --

My heart is so heavy for you all right now. I am praying for you both. I am praying for Eli. I am praying for Sophia. I am praying for the surgeon and his staff. And I am praying that God will receive great glory when Eli one day walks with ease.

You are excellent parents, who have done an exceedingly great job in helping Elijah. May God continue to bless your child.

I love you,
Stacie

Nadra said...

David and Melissa....we're praying for your family. God works in ways that we never truly understand, but you're holding on the great faith and that's what matters. Such a heart felt post Dave...thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and feelings. May your entire family be comforted by the many prayers that will be and are being spoken.

Nadra & Charlie Conner

pg said...

God IS listening. As stomach turning as it is to read your post, and as big as the lump in my throat and the tears in my eyes are right now, a stubborn, subtle smile remains. David, you are God's strong, loving arms and gentle, comforting voice to this precious little guy, Eli.

I know you would give up your own feet to save his, if it would help. I grieve with you, brother.

As I picture the scene that you have painted, I'm sure the details in my mind look nothing like reality - the color of the walls, the pattern on the floor, the size of the room, the style of the phone. But the detail I have no doubt about seeing completely clearly, is a father putting his whole being into loving his son. How beautifully breathtaking!

The world around may look at this situation and say, "How sad. Poor Eli has been deprived of so much." Yeah, they're right. He has. But he has been granted some great gifts too, on a level that most people go through life without ever experiencing.

Eli has been blessed through you, David. That does not diminish the difficulties he has to go through, but think of his life without YOU. THAT is unthinkably sad. You get to be Eli's daddy! You get to see the eyes that only a father sees - a child's eyes searching his father's for comfort, reassurance, praise, confirmation, pride, affection, adoration, confidence, and love. And because of your "father" who provides all of these things and more to you, you are able to provide all of these things for Eli. Sorry for getting churchy, but we know where the only source of our strength comes from!

May God redeem the tears and may the darkness of this present pain be shattered by the shining light of the joys to come.

Jerry said...

David, I am so proud to have known you for so long and to know the kind of Godly man and father you have become. He hears your cries, dear boy. Please let your mom and dad know that I am praying for ALL of you and the doctor and nurses that will be caring for Elijah. God Bless all of you. Love, kathy

Anonymous said...

For some reason as I pray for you this morning I am hearing "Grace Flows Down" by Christy Nockels That will be my prayer for you this morning.

Anonymous said...

I don't know you but I can tell from three minutes on your site that Eli is so lucky to have you two as parents. Praying for you this morning.

daniele batchelor said...

david and melissa
your precious son will be in my deepest thoughts and prayers today as he goes through his surgery. God is full of miracles. My prayer is that eli will be comforted, with minimal pain and will heal quickly.
If you all need anything please contact me at anytime.
your sis
Daniele Dillon Batchelor

Margaret said...

Anything I could say seems woefully inadequate given the words you've shared, so just know that I'm praying for all of your family, especially Eli.