God Answers Prayer With a Spelling Lesson

Sometimes, God has to spell things out for us! http://wp.me/p2UZoK-4B #caregiver via @blestbutstrest

When Plans Crash

My cell phone rang in the middle of a team parent’s meeting at Laura’s gymnastics class. Pedro’s voice sounded worse, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of his facial paralysis or because he really was worse.

“I’m back in the hospital.”

I breathed deeply and gripped the phone. “Why?” I asked as I jumped up and hurried to the lobby. I knew he’d been feeling dizzy lately, and his back bothered him.

“Doctor says we haven’t killed it. Dizziness from the cancer.”

“What are our choices?”

“More chemo.” Pedro’s voice sounded so discouraged. “Might not work.”

“Or?”

“More radiation.” This time, his voice broke.

“What happens if you get more radiation?” I struggled to sound strong, to not break down and let him know how scared I felt.

“Doctor says I’d have Alzheimer’s memory.”

Alzheimer’s at thirty-four?! Impossible! My mind balked at the thought. I’d think about it later; or just erase THAT option from my mind.

“I’ll be there by three o’clock tomorrow,” I assured him. “We don’t have to decide right now, do we?”

“No. Be here soon.”

How Does One Decide Between Alzheimer’s and Death?

Somehow, I made it through the rest of the day: attending parent’s meeting, tucking our girls into bed, explaining that I had to go help Daddy in San Francisco the next day, and then going over to my school to hold auditions for the senior play. A week of prayer meeting had just ended, and I found the principal and our pastor in the lobby of the chapel. When I explained Pedro’s condition I finally broke down.

The enormity of the decision seemed too much to bear. How could Pedro teach if he had the memory of an Alzheimer’s patient? How could he continue being a daddy to our girls if he might not even remember their names from day to day?

We stepped into the copy room, and the pastor and principal prayed for me and Pedro and for the decision we had to make. God held the outcome in his hands. I mopped up my face as much as I could, and went out to hold auditions—grateful that only the stage had lights.

Afterwards, I explained to my students what had happened, and they promised to pray for Pedro. I kept busy until late into the night, preparing lesson plans for who knew how many days, and hunting down clean laundry to carry with me. The future looked dark, but I refused to think about it. I would live in the present.

Frantic Flight to Frisco

Early the next morning I the plane, grateful that the seat next to me held no fellow traveler. I would have time to think. After less than a minute, I decided I didn’t want to think. Someone had left a copy of Catherine Marshall’s book  Adventures in Prayer in the patient library at UCSF, and during my last stay there I’d picked it up and started to read it. I pulled the book out of my backpack and opened it to the place where I’d left off.

The chapter title seemed to mock me—“The Prayer of Relinquishment.”

Oh, I’d given up so much for this cancer. I’d given up my normal life and lived like a nomad. Never in one spot for more than a week or two. I camped out in the office at home so my parents had a nice bed (they moved in with us to help out when Pedro’s condition worsened and he had to go to San Francisco for treatment) and I camped out in Pedro’s hospital room—and that managed to change all the time, too. Even his doctors and interns changed every two weeks. I often found myself on an airplane with nothing more than my computer and a few pairs of clean underwear and no idea as to where I’d spend the night.

I'd given up so much for my husband's #cancer. What more could I give? #caregiver Click To Tweet

I’d learned to shift for myself in the big city and in the big hospital. I’d given up being shy about asking for help and I’d given up taking a shower at the same time every day. I’d given up time with our girls and time with my students. I’d given up regular meals, regular exercise and regular sleep.

Learning to Give up EVERYTHING

prayerWhat more was there to relinquish? I gave myself a mental shake and settled down to read the chapter. It would take my mind off of the decision that waited like a dark abyss. Intellectually, I knew and acknowledged that God was with us, that He had control. But as I read, I realized that while I may have given Him control of the situation, I’d never relinquished the desires of my heart.

More than anything, I wanted Pedro back the way he was before he got sick. I wanted my partner, my best friend, and the father of our children. I didn’t want to make all of the decisions on my own, I wanted Pedro to help me and grow old with me.

It was easy to pray for healing, it was easy to see how God had answered prayers and continued to help, but it wasn’t easy admitting to God that I hadn’t let go of my deepest desire.

The time had come. I bowed my head and started writing furiously in my prayer journal, confessing that I’d held on to my dreams rather than holding on to God. I gave God my dreams of normalcy, of a healthy husband and a happy family. Tears dripped on the page, but I kept on writing. When I finished, I felt completely drained.  My eyes closed and I slumped back in the seat, hearing the roar of the plane’s engines for the first time.

I’d taken a leap of faith as surely as if I’d jumped out of the airplane without a parachute. Like an uncertain child, the first thing that came to my mind was, “Will everything be o.k.?” This time I didn’t tell God what everything should be.

God’s Spelling Lesson

I opened my eyes and looked out of the window. There, below me, two rivers met and joined, forming a giant ‘Y.’ Coincidence? Probably.

I turned to smile at the flight attendant as she handed me a snack. She looked at me with concern. On a small airplane with lots of empty seats, a sniffling, snuffling passenger can’t go unnoticed. I must look awful. When I turned to the window again, hoping to catch my reflection and assess the damage, the view outside caught my eye. A long, country road stretched across the flat terrain. At three even intervals, smaller roads joined the larger road, forming a perfect ‘E.’ Coincidence? Maybe.

The pilot announced our position and informed us that Mount Rainer loomed off in the distance. I looked out the window again, but the mountain didn’t catch my eye. A large river flowed through an incredibly green valley. The trees growing alongside of the river framed the perfect ‘S’ the river made before it disappeared into a darker forest of evergreens. Coincidence? Most certainly not.

This time, I got the message. YES, everything would be o.k.. And this time, I knew that whatever ‘everything’ might look like, God would be there with me.

 

 

Anita currently teaches English to 7th-12th graders. She describes herself as a 'recovering cancer caregiver' who gives thanks daily that her husband has been cancer-free for ten years.

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  • Beautiful Anita. I’ve already passed it on. Thank you so much for sharing!

    • Anita Ojeda

      Thank you for taking the time to share the post with others, Cherry-Lee!

  • Reading your story reminded me to get out of Gods way
    And let him be God. I cannot love cancer away
    I cannot will my husband to live. Thank you and may
    God bless you and your husband.

    • Anita Ojeda

      What a powerful reminder, Evelyn-that we can’t “love cancer away.” So often, that’s what we caregivers try to do, isn’t it? May God continue to hold you and your husband close as you walk through this valley.

  • It’s so hard to give up everything, every last reserved corner or every locked room, and hand it to God. When the house is empty of our dreams (good dreams), then God can fill it.
    Thanks for sharing God’s writing on the earth in answer your plea, “Will everything be o.k.?”

    • You are so right, Constance! Thank you for stopping by :).

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