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Stories of real faith. Helana Olivier
Читать онлайн.Название Stories of real faith
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780796315533
Автор произведения Helana Olivier
Жанр Религия: прочее
Издательство Ingram
The hours and days in the Intensive Care Unit of two hospitals became weeks, and the weeks became months, and still I clung to those two sentences from a Bible with a thousand other encouraging verses. Just those ten words were enough for me!
During this time other, strange choices also appeared on my path.
At one point my son was sharing a ward with a man of Jewish descent. His brother was a rabbi. One day the rabbi asked me whether he could pray for my son. The question was simple, but the choice was unbelievably difficult in my chaotic mind. If I said “yes”, would God punish me and let my son die? Or if I said “no”, would God then let my son die?
There were other, similar choices: the Hindu woman who also wanted to pray for him and bless him. The woman from one of our sister churches who wanted to serve us with Holy Communion at his bed. The four women who invited me to their home and asked me to confess my sins to them so that they could pray for me and my son would get well. What was I to choose? Would my child die if I answered “yes” to all or some of these requests, or would he die if I refused?
Who could give me the right answers and show me the right direction? What would be the right choice? Should I ask my minister or should I wait until the right answer was revealed to me? Was this perhaps a further direct attack of the evil one to confront me with these strange requests and circumstances? How will I respond to these situations with wisdom and insight and, above all, with the right choices?
I didn’t know then and still don’t know whether, in my human frailty, I made the right choices or not. What I do know is that God’s might and mercy and love are greater than the worst choices we might make in life.
If I look back to that time of the most destructive storm imaginable in our life as a family, when we were nearly destroyed, I try to recall choices we had to make consciously as well as the choices we were unaware of.
My wonderful son was changed in the blink of an eye from a lively, young, dynamic doctor to a person who was locked into his own body. He could not breathe by himself, could not move and could not swallow – not even his own saliva. We had no way of knowing whether he could see or hear. We did not know whether he would survive. The doctors were open with us and did not give us much hope.
He was diagnosed with the feared and extremely rare condition known as locked-in syndrome or man-in-the-barrel syndrome (MIBS). Medical textbooks describe the condition as follows:
Locked-in syndrome is a catastrophic condition that prevents an individual from voluntarily moving any muscles of the body, other than those that control eye movement. As a result, the individual cannot move or speak, although some communication is possible through blinking or eye movements. Despite the devastating loss of function, an individual with locked-in syndrome is completely conscious and aware, able to think and reason normally. Luckily, locked-in syndrome is exceedingly rare. About 40%–70% of people suffering from locked-in syndrome die within a short time of suffering the causative injury.
For me, the situation was a definite reality, but my emotions were, in retrospect, not really in touch with any reality. I tried in vain to rationalise and “realise” everything, especially my choices as to what I was or was not allowed to do, or what I had to or did not have to do.
There was a small Catholic church on the way to the hospital where my son was lying, and I would stop there to pray. I simply prayed my usual prayer of “please”, and even that was initially a problem for me. Suddenly even that was something I had to make a conscious choice about. The question then was: “Should I not rather look for a Protestant church that might just possibly be open, and rather go and pray there?” How ridiculous and confused my fears and anguish were about the choices I had to make!
My everyday choices were necessarily also influenced by what well-meaning people said around me and to me. Words like “These things happen only to people who can bear them. I would never be able to bear such a thing.” Immediately the anguish would come again: What have I done? Did I perhaps have an arrogant attitude? Could my God be testing me in such a distressing way to see whether I can indeed bear such pain? Did I make a wrong choice somewhere along the way?
Or other words that stuck with me for a long time: “Yes, such things happen to a person to call you back to God, to remind you (and all of us) that we must mend our ways … if we and all his friends don’t take this as a wake-up call, I guess nothing will ever bring us back to God.” Then I thought: But have I wandered so far from my God that He had to use something so terrible to bring me back? What awfully sinful choice, or choices, did I make to bring this dreadful thing on us? Or even the following comment: “Yes, I guess one must probably never be too proud of one’s children! You never know what can happen to them!” Oh, Father, please, please, please forgive me if I was too proud of my child ... if my words and deeds and choices made you angry!
These thoughts were like a child on the beach trying to fill the dam he has made with sea water. He runs back and forth with his little bucket between the sea and the dam. The sea does not empty and his dam does not fill up. All the activity and the confusing emotions were so totally and completely in vain.
For 22 months I sat at the hospital every day, usually from nine in the morning till nine at night. I was there of my own free will. I decided to put my life on hold, not because I’m brave or special, but simply because, for those 22 months, my whole life was focused on what would happen to my child at that moment on that day. What would his temperature be, his oxygen uptake figures, or would he possibly, just possibly begin to swallow, or – miracle of miracles: could there possibly, just possibly today please please be the beginning of a flickering of movement somewhere, anywhere, in his body? Perhaps today he might indicate in some way that he could hear us … or even see us.
My choices born of necessity did not begin and end with my child’s accident, the 22 months in the hospital and the time after that, or his still ongoing, on-dragging rehabilitation.
A year ago, my son and I (he in a wheelchair, with movement only in his left hand and arm) were held up in our house during an armed robbery.
My husband was shot later and lost one of his kidneys as a result. Once again, we went through months of someone being hospitalised. All the previous clichés did the rounds again and once more I was confronted by unbearable choices.
But once again, God made choices on my behalf when I was too confused to make them myself. In His great might He taught me again that I need never make the choice myself between bitterness and trust, fear or peace of mind, because if you keep asking “please”, you never become bitter, and if you still keep on asking “please”, the fear does not last forever. The choice is actually so easy.
Every person has a choice as to what he or she will do when something terrible has happened in his or her life. You always have several different choices, regardless of the circumstances. Your choice can be to be furious or sad or scared or worried or demanding for the rest of your life. Or your choice can be to know that nothing in life happens by chance. You can choose deliberately to search for grace and peace.
And you also learn that miracles don’t always happen the following day or the moment you ask for them; you also learn that a miracle can be as small or huge as the flickering of movement in your child’s left thumb – with which he begins to write a book. A miracle can also take the form of a swallowing movement or a drawing in of breath without a ventilator – and you learn also that your choice of words in prayer need not be dramatic and highsounding. Sometimes the word please is enough.
I learned that not one of the clichés people are so quick to use holds water in the light of God’s grace, because He doesn’t always allow things to happen to punish people, but sometimes to direct them in a different way. And then, despite weaknesses, He gives them eagles’ wings to rise up far above the negatives.
With time, my choices became easier again, because I was given the Grace to know that, when you set God as your first choice, all other choices are easier. Then the other things work out by themselves.
Therefore