Healing

It's been a couple of weeks now since Marie passed away and Matt was struck by a car. Healing takes time. Sometimes it seems like it will never progress, then suddenly, we find ourselves in a new place that was difficult to imagine just a short time ago. Saturday, Matt raked some leaves in our yard. That's how far he's come. Today, the staples come out of his abdominal incision. Last Wednesday at a church dinner a pastor stopped by to chat with Susan and Matt while I was off talking to some friends. When asked how things are going, Susan responded, "My mother's in heaven and Matt's on the mend." That's a pretty healthy outlook. We're so thankful for so many good friends who have shown us they care.

Instability

We like to forget life is unpredictable. Sometimes it is. My mother in law Marie went to be with God Friday around noon. She lived much longer than we dared hope, and never lost her optimism or ability to fight on against tall odds. Now she's in heaven and more than well- she's perfect. That gives Susan and me comfort. We had time to prepare for this, time to grieve the loss of her strength and functions, time to get used to the idea that soon, she'd be far away from us. In the end, her passing was predictable. After 2 strokes and an abdominal aortic aneurysm, kidney infections, colitis, and pneumonia, it was a matter of time, and we accepted that.

Then about 4 AM Sunday morning, we got a call from St. Johns Mercy Hospital. Our son Matt had been struck by a car as he walked home from closing things down at work. His spleen was fractured and he needed surgery. He heard a car coming from behind him sideways around a corner and Matt dashed up a lawn to escape. The car followed him onto the lawn and struck him, took out two mailboxes on that side of the street, crossed the street, traversed 2 lawns, and struck a van. Matt bounced up and saw he had no broken bones and went to see if the guy was OK. He was already on the cell phone complaining he'd totaled his car. When the police and ambulance arrived, they initially thought Matt was OK, but he then got lightheaded because of internal bleeding, so they took him to St. Johns. When we saw him he was white as a sheet.

Matt is a strong guy and he's recovering well after getting his spleen removed. Now he's walking and starting to eat a bit. He'll miss some work and miss his spleen if ever he gets a serious infection. We're all missing that sense of order in the world, that sense that today, we'll get up in the morning and tonight we'll go to sleep in our own bed, and the next day, and the next day, and the next day. Maybe. Maybe not. The ground feels a little less solid now. We're reminded that things are not as stable as they seem.

Either way, it's hard to not admire Matt's first instincts. He wanted to know if the other guy was OK. That's pretty solid.

Exhaustion

God made us really strong. We saw some unbelievably strong people this weekend at the 5th annual Burnin at the Bluff 12 hour MTB race. The variety in humans is amazing, and just as we vary a lot in height, build, aptitudes, personality, and other traits, we vary a lot in athletic abilities. That was evident from grade school on. There were those kids who always got picked first for baseball, or basketball, kickball, or soccer. There were kids who could run faster, jump higher and farther, for whom dribbling a basketball between the legs and switching hands while moving quickly down court was as natural as solving math problems was for me. For each of us, the activities and tasks we exercise the most become intuitive. It's the learning curve, and where we "top out" that varies a lot.

Endurance sports require a certain mindset and dedication, a tolerance for discomfort, even pain, that is extraodinary. Some endurance sports, like marathon running or doing triathlons, tax the ability to put out a steady effort for a long, long time. I admire those who can get in a zone and pound it out for 3 hours or even longer. For my money, some of the best athletes are endurance mountain bike racers. High aerobic capacity is required, but is not enough. Superb bike handling skills are required, but are not enough. Endurance mountain bike racers also have to be able to endure repeated anaerobic efforts- explosive efforts that may only last a second to clear an obstacle, or may last 20 seconds to carry enough momentum over a steep, short climb. Then they need to rapidly recover while maintaining speed and get back into an aerobic rhythm for 2, 20 or 200 seconds before the next challenge presents itself. When racing at the limit, each explosive effort drives pain a little deeper into the muscles and the mind.

When it is over, there is shared exhaustion, as we are surrounded by people who know. At that level, we're all equal. We dug deep and gave it what we had. In these types of races, the less gifted and those who have not been able to train well for the race suffer more than the winners. Racers stagger across the line, collapse into a chair to recover and when they feel the strength to move again, are wracked by spasms of cramping that throw them to the ground. They left it all out on the trail. And they will do it again. God made us really strong.

Trust?

Our daughter Amy just moved to the Big Apple- New York City- to find a job a as a graphic artist, preferably for a publishing company. This is our first real separation, because she went to college at Washington University here in St. Louis. She lived off campus, not at home, but I could ride by her house on my commute to work every day. Susan and I didn't intrude or impose, but it was comfortable knowing she was nearby. Now she's living with roommates she found online, in Spanish Harlem. These changes bring the question of trust to a whole new level. Do we trust she'll be alright? Do we trust that God watches over her wherever she is, or do we think that somehow our presence, our instruction, our advice is needed for her to be secure? That would be delusional, to think we have power to control what happens in this world. Thankfully, we're not in charge.

Recognition

Yesterday my mother in law Marie recognized her friend Marge who came to visit her, and called out her name. A few days ago that didn't seem possible. When things look the worst, we don't know what the future holds. Even though God has sustained and blessed us all these years, we often live in fear.

The will to live

My mother in law Marie is stabilizing and took some food by mouth Sunday, which is crazy but true. Every time she's pronounced "almost gone" she rallies somehow. This can't be forever, but it is an amazing testament to her toughness and the will to survive. Live is fragile, life is strong. Think about the close calls you may have had, the number of times you could have checked out. I can't recount all of mine. I know it's not in my hands to even sustain my life one more day. I'm OK with that, and just need to work out the balance where I don't push too close to the edge as often as I have in years gone by.

Marie

My mother in law, Marie, is dying. She's had 2 strokes and now has double pneumonia, an aortic aneurysm, colitis and kidney infections. She's strong, but not strong enough to overcome this. I am thankful she will soon be restored to perfect health, physically, mentally and spiritually. She has always been the most enthused person I've ever known. She gets so excited about a craft fair, or historic site, or some scenery she sees for the first time, or even a piece of blueberry pie. "It's the best I've ever had!" she'd exclaim and be perfectly sincere. I can only imagine how she's going to love heaven.